At sunrise, Kyomisu stirred like an old song. Wooden bridges creaked as merchants opened their stalls. Wind chimes swayed above clay roofs, their tones blending with the rustling of silk banners marked by the five elemental sigils—Stone, Wind, Fire, Lightning, and Shadow.
The entire village seemed to breathe in rhythm with the mountains surrounding it. Streams of luminous water cut through its streets, carrying the faint glow of Ryuma, energy harvested from underground springs that fed the region. The villagers called it "the lifepulse," believing if Kyomisu ever lost its glimmer, the mountains themselves would sleep forever.
To outsiders, Kyomisu was humble—a training post in the heart of nowhere. To its people, it was sacred. Legend claimed it had been built atop the fragments of an ancient Seal that once connected mortal lands to the five elemental realms. That secret was spoken only in half-whispers during the festival nights, when children begged elders for stories and the old men laughed too loudly to hide their fear.
The People of Kyomisu
Every resident carried traces of Ryuma, even if faint. Carpenters could shape wood faster, healers closed wounds with warm palms, and blacksmiths tuned their hammers to the earth's hum. Power was a way of life—a gift meant for harmony, not war.
Disputes were settled not with blades but with demonstrations of control. Once every season, villagers gathered at the Square of Echoes to test their precision. A woodcutter with perfect rhythm could silence an arrogant soldier by splitting wind and timber so evenly that the air blades hummed in tune. Here, Ryuma arts were forms of conversation, not destruction.
But there existed one exception to that quiet order—the House of Kelivin.
The Shadow of a Legend
Kelivin's house stood at the upper terraces overlooking the village, its garden walled by stone and bamboo. To the villagers, he was not merely a teacher; he was the remnant of an age gone. Older tradesmen still whispered how he once fought in the War of Falling Stars, when rogue elemental spirits poured through shattered realms. They said he single‑handedly sealed an entire army of Fire Wraiths inside the sea cliffs of Tenji.
Yet the same villagers avoided his home after dusk. Children dared each other to peek over the garden wall, claiming they heard whispering voices in languages they didn't understand. Kelivin rarely visited the marketplace, and when he did, the air around him dimmed, as though night walked beside him.
Only the head priestess, Lady Ai, spoke openly of him. "He is not cursed," she used to tell those who asked. "He has seen too much truth—and truth makes even light afraid."
The Three Sons
Against this aura of legend, Kevin, Kris, and Dylan lived in awkward contrast. The villagers admired them yet kept distance, half in respect, half in superstition. The boys tried to blend in—helping merchants stack crates of glimmer-grain, racing along the bridges, testing their small control over Ryuma to light lanterns during festivals—but even their laughter carried that faint hum of untamed power.
When they trained in the square, crowds gathered quietly. The sons of the Shadow Master still drew curiosity. Kevin's dark aura bent the light; Kris cracked cobbles with each step; Dylan's hair sparked when he was excited.
One day, an old fisherman whispered to a traveler, "They're smiling now. But one morning, the sky will rumble for them. That family never gets peace for long."
The Whispered Secret
Beyond folklore and routine, hidden chambers existed beneath Kyomisu's shrine—the Repository of Seals. Few knew of its existence; even fewer entered. Only those chosen by the elder council guarded its inner sanctum, where carved stones pulsed gently in the dark.
Unseen, the shrine's stones trembled that year. Unstable energy licked across their surfaces, signaling something the priests could not name—a stirring beneath the mountain, a thinning between worlds.
Late one night, Lady Ai watched the seals from the altar above, the candles around her flickering. She thought she saw a figure within the dark—a phantom wrapped in shadow and light—bowing before the stones as though greeting an old friend.
The wind that followed carried a single whisper:
"Soon, the heirs will see what their father buried."
A Calm Before the Break
At dawn, the brothers were awakened by their father's voice. Training would begin earlier than usual. The air outside already shimmered with drifting streaks of Ryuma dust—a sign that something in the mountains had shifted.
Kyomisu still hummed with peace, but beneath the surface, old powers were moving again.
And as Kevin stood at the edge of the courtyard, he had no idea that within a handful of days, that peace would shatter—and the path to the Shinsei Market of Elements would open at last.