The next morning dawned unusually quiet. Even the birds that danced through the bamboo groves seemed to avoid the eastern ridge, where thin threads of violet mist had begun to coil through the treetops.
Kevin noticed it first during meditation. The air vibrated faintly—too steady for wind, too soft for thunder. When he opened his eyes, tiny sparks of Ryuma flickered around him like dust caught in sunlight, drifting toward the forest.
"Do you feel that?" he asked, standing.
Kris rolled his shoulders. "Yeah. The ground's humming again."
Dylan grinned. "Or maybe it's calling us. We've been training for days without anything interesting."
"Father said not to chase what we don't understand."
Dylan arched a brow. "Since when have we listened after he stops watching?"
Kris cracked his knuckles, already curious. "We'll have a look. Then come back before he notices."
Kevin hesitated, instincts tugging between discipline and curiosity. The pulse of energy in the air strengthened—a slow, deliberate rhythm, like a heartbeat hidden under the soil. It felt alive.
"Fine," he said at last. "But we stay together."
The Forest of Breaths
They followed the path beyond the cedar grove, past the stream that marked Kyomisu's boundary. The mist thickened, swallowing color until the world shimmered in silver and violet tones.
The deeper they went, the stronger the vibration in the air grew. Trees bent slightly inward, their leaves whispering as though passing messages between one another.
Dylan glanced at the shadows. "Is it me, or is the forest breathing?"
Kevin touched a trunk; it pulsed faintly beneath his palm. "It's Ryuma. A lot of it. Too much for a natural surge."
They reached a clearing where stones formed an ancient circle, half‑buried in moss. At its center lay a small pool, still as glass. Ryuma light trickled upward from its surface like smoke.
Kris crouched beside it. "This feels familiar."
Kevin nodded slowly. "It's the same pulse from our father's training sigils—and from the nights the sky glows."
"Then maybe it's his work?" Dylan asked. "A test?"
Before they could guess further, the pool rippled. Concentric waves spread outward, glowing brighter. The brothers stepped back as the ground began to hum. Then came the sound—soft, melodic, like someone whispering names beneath the water.
The Call of the Market
The whisper grew clearer. Multiple voices now, overlapping in tones of earth and lightning and shadow.
"Kevin."
"Kris."
"Dylan."
Their names.
The moment each was spoken, their Ryuma flared on instinct—Kevin's shadow stretching outward, Kris's aura trembling the stones, Dylan's lightning sparking through the mist.
The pool responded. A symbol formed across the surface—a spiral of five interlocking sigils glowing in colors they had never seen before. The air around them bent, warping like heat haze.
Dylan's hair lifted as the static grew wild. "So… that's not normal."
"No," Kevin breathed. "That's the Market."
"How do you—" Kris began, but the words faded as the world shifted.
The pool exploded upward silently, light wrapping around them like liquid glass. The stones lifted, weightless, spinning faster until everything dissolved into a stream of pure luminescence.
The Realm Between
When they opened their eyes again, they stood in a place that didn't obey any rule of sense.
An endless hall stretched before them, walls built from floating mirrors reflecting impossible versions of themselves—older, younger, twisted by different elements. The floor shimmered as though it were made of sky.
Banners flapped overhead though there was no wind, each marked with ancient symbols identical to the ones in their father's training scrolls. Shadow figures moved along the distant edges of vision—merchants, spirits, perhaps dreams.
Kevin whispered first. "This… it sees us."
The hall responded with a low chime, and words formed in the air before them, glowing faintly:
Welcome, heirs of Kyomisu. Welcome to the Shinsei Market of Elements.
Dylan stepped closer, eyes wide. "It's real. All those stories…"
Kris clenched his fist, awe fading into caution. "Then why call us? What does it want?"
The hall shimmered again. Five doors appeared at its end—each burning with a different element: onyx shadow, amber stone, violet lightning, crimson flame, and pale gold light.
Their energy resonated with the brothers' hearts, pulling gently, like familiar music waiting to be played.
The Choice
Kevin looked at the doors, his breath shallow. "Each leads somewhere different."
Kris touched his chest. "I feel the earth one pulling."
Dylan's hands sparked lightly. "Lightning for me. No thinking needed."
Kevin glanced at the shadow‑carved door. Its darkness rippled like water. Something inside it called—not hostile, but patient.
Before they moved, the Hall spoke again, Maiko's voice echoing softly through their minds:
Only through the Market may truth reveal itself. Choose, sons of Kelivin. Your paths must divide before they can reunite.
The brothers exchanged glances. Each saw the same mixture of fear and purpose.
Kevin exhaled slowly. "Together again when the doors lead back."
"Together again," Kris agreed.
Dylan grinned, reckless light sparking behind his eyes. "Let's get lost then."
They stepped through their doors, and the Market swallowed them whole.