The Gate was not meant to exist.
According to the surviving sect archives, there were once Five Gates forged to seal the primal echoes of creation — fractures left behind after the Tower of Babel fell from the sky. Each Gate was guarded by a lineage of warriors sworn to silence, their names struck from time and memory. The world believed four had already crumbled.
The fifth was a myth.
Until now.
Jinryu stood at the base of a stone ravine, its walls covered in ancient symbols too deep to be etched by human hands. The wind here carried no scent, no sound. Not even the rustling of his coat echoed back.
It was a place forgotten by Qi — where energy itself dared not flow.
The black cat perched atop a jagged stone, tail flicking. "This is where your trail ends," it said, though no words left its mouth.
"No," Jinryu replied, eyes fixed ahead. "It's where it begins."
Before him, half-buried in the earth, stood a massive circular door — over ten meters tall, carved into the mountain itself. Its surface was smooth, unmarred by time, save for a glowing line down the middle.
At its center: a symbol — a closed eye, carved in crimson stone.
Jinryu stepped closer. Haeryun pulsed once, then fell silent.
"I've seen this in dreams," he whispered.
The cat narrowed its eyes. "Or memories."
He placed his hand on the eye.
A vibration passed through his fingers — subtle, but deep, like the heartbeat of something enormous beneath the earth. The stone flared red.
Suddenly, a voice boomed inside his skull.
"Who walks with the blood of the Ninth Core?"
"Who carries the blade of Babel's sin?"
Jinryu's breath caught. His hand recoiled slightly, but he didn't step back.
He answered without thought — or perhaps, memory answered for him.
"I am the one who was abandoned. The one who was sealed."
The Gate shuddered.
Rocks crumbled from the cliffs above.
The eye opened.
Not metaphorically — it literally opened. The crimson gem in the center split wide, revealing a shifting iris of glowing symbols and light. A sound like whispering thunder filled the air.
The cat jumped behind him, fur bristling. "It's reacting to your Core."
A thin line of red light traced its way down Jinryu's arm, glowing through his veins — a fragment of the Mythic Core sealed within his body, awakening.
But as the Gate began to open, something else surged forward from within.
A pulse of resistance.
A being.
Guardian. Warden. Sentinel.
It emerged slowly — not through the Gate, but from the earth itself. A creature carved of stone and light, shaped like a man but far too large. It carried no weapon. It needed none.
Its voice was layered — thousands speaking at once.
"You are not ready."
Jinryu drew Haeryun without hesitation. The blade gleamed white-blue, hunger dancing across its edge.
"I open the Gate by right of inheritance."
"You are untested. Your Core is sealed. You are… broken."
Jinryu stepped forward anyway.
"I am still enough."
And then the guardian moved.
The battle was not a blur. It was not instant.
It was pure clash — elemental and raw.
Stone fists collided with steel will. Every blow shattered the ground, sent shockwaves through the ravine. Jinryu dodged, spun, countered, each strike measured with deadly restraint. He was fighting to prove something.
Not to the guardian.
To himself.
Haeryun's blade bit deep once — enough to make the guardian stagger. That was all it needed to see.
The creature stepped back and lowered its arms.
"Spine unbroken. Blade loyal. Core… awakening."
It turned, stepping into the Gate.
"Follow. What you seek waits inside. So does what you fear."
Jinryu sheathed his sword.
The cat stared at him. "If you pass through, you can't go back the same."
"I'm already not the same," Jinryu said quietly.
Together, they stepped into the Gate as it sealed behind them.
Inside, the air changed.
No longer wind. No longer cold.
Only whispers.
Only light.
And at the far end of the chamber — pulsing on a stone pedestal — was a second Core.
But this one wasn't sealed.
It was calling to him by name.