----
The rains of late summer painted Inarihara in gold. Mist drifted between the terraces like silk, and every lantern shone through it as if the city were breathing light. Ria walked the upper gardens barefoot, dew soaking her sleeves, the air sweet with morning jasmine.
The world was perfect—perhaps too perfect.
Peace had settled across the city since the last tremor faded months ago. No darkness stirred, no new flame demanded tending. Yet the calm pressed against her chest like an invisible weight. Her heart beat with a rhythm that didn't belong to this valley.
> System Notice — Status Stable. No Active Quests.
That silence from the System used to comfort her. Now it felt like a cage.
Ren found her sitting on the temple's edge, legs swinging over the drop, staring at the endless mountains. He carried two cups of plum tea. "You're up early again. Thinking or brooding?"
"Listening," she said.
"To what?"
She tilted her head. "The wind. It's carrying other voices. I hear chanting—human words, ancient ones. I see rivers that don't belong here."
He laughed softly. "You've been reading too many scrolls."
"Maybe." She sipped the tea, then frowned. "Or maybe it's time to see the world those scrolls talk about."
---
That night the dreams returned. She stood on a mountainside under a violet moon. Below, cities sprawled like constellations—mortal cities, bright and loud. Towers of stone, markets filled with music, waterfalls that cut through mist and smoke. And beyond them, peaks crowned with temples whose roofs caught starlight like mirrors. Voices chanted:
Qi flows through all things; balance is the blade that shapes it.
When she woke, her heart was racing. The air of her room smelled faintly of rain and incense, as though the dream had left traces behind.
She whispered, "The human world is calling."
---
By dawn she was at the Temple of Dawnfire. Lady Tsumika was already awake, meditating among the flame-lotus. The elder opened her eyes before Ria spoke.
"You've heard them, haven't you?" the elder said gently.
Ria nodded. "Their chants, their striving. They try to reach what we were born as."
Tsumika sighed. "Mortals who chase divinity forget that divinity once chased mortality. The human world is hungry. It births miracles and monsters in the same breath."
"I want to see both," Ria said. "I want to understand what drives them."
The elder studied her a long time. "The balance you seek can't be taught here anymore. Go, then—but remember, the human heart cuts deeper than any flame."
She turned to the altar and lifted a pair of small fox-shaped pendants from a bowl of light. "These will hide your aura. As long as you wear them, you'll appear mortal. But you will also be mortal—weak, woundable. Do you accept that cost?"
Ria held the charm, feeling its quiet pulse. "Yes."
---
Ren took the news with predictable dramatics. "You want to go where? To the world that burns trees for sport and mistakes us for household pets?"
"They're not all like that," she said, laughing. "Besides, you don't have to come."
"Right," he said, crossing his arms. "Leave you alone to get eaten by the first cultivator who mistakes you for a spirit-beast? Not a chance."
A week later they stood before the city gates, dressed in travelling clothes—simple robes dyed with foxfire thread, packs slung across mortal shoulders. The elders and half the city had come to see them off. Children threw petals; illusionary butterflies swirled through the air.
Lady Tsumika raised her staff. "May your feet learn patience and your hearts, imperfection. Walk well, children of flame."
They bowed, and the great gates opened.
---
The road from Inarihara wound through canyons veined with crystal streams. Each night they camped under skies that felt wider than anything Ria had known. Ren entertained her with stories from the merchants they passed—tales of human sects that grew forests in a single night, of swords that sang, of cities that floated above the clouds.
"Sounds chaotic," she said.
"Exactly," he grinned. "My kind of place."
By the seventh day the foxfire talismans began to glow faintly. Ahead, the mountains parted to reveal a plain where rivers braided like silver ribbons. Smoke rose from distant towns, carrying the scent of hearth and metal. The human world.
Ria's breath caught. "It's beautiful."
"Beautiful and probably dangerous," Ren muttered, adjusting his pack. "Remember—no sudden glowing, no tails, and definitely no talking about cosmic balance at dinner."
She smirked. "You're saying that like it's not your plan to show off."
"Who, me? I'm humble now."
---
Their first stop was a border village built along the riverbank. Children ran through the streets chasing paper kites; old men played dice outside teahouses. The sight filled Ria with quiet wonder. So fragile, so fleeting—and yet so full of laughter.
They rented a room at an inn whose sign read The Drifting Willow. The innkeeper, a kindly woman with gray hair, poured them tea and asked where they came from.
"From the northern hills," Ria said quickly, repeating the cover story the elders had given them. "We're wanderers seeking cultivation."
"Ah," the woman smiled, "another pair of hopefuls. The world's full of them lately. You'll want to try the Cloud-Ridge Sect, then. They're always recruiting bright-eyed dreamers."
Ren leaned over. "Do they have free food?"
"Three meals a day," she said, chuckling.
He looked triumphant. "Ria, fate clearly wants us there."
---
That night they watched the river glow under lantern light. The water carried the reflection of the moon like liquid glass. Ria felt the quiet pull again—not divine this time, but earthy and alive. The qi of the world moved around her, slow and vast, the pulse of something she could join but not command.
Ren studied her expression. "You're already falling for it, aren't you?"
She smiled. "For the first time, I can feel the flow without shaping it. It's… humbling."
"Just promise me one thing," he said. "If they make you scrub floors at that sect, don't call it a divine trial."
She laughed, leaning back against the railing. "No promises."
---
Days later they reached the base of Cloud-Ridge Mountain. Mist coiled around the cliffs like breath; stone steps climbed into the clouds where a gate glimmered faintly. Monks in pale robes tended gardens that grew along the path, their eyes curious as the travellers approached.
A disciple stepped forward. "New aspirants?"
Ria bowed. "We seek to learn."
The monk studied them, then smiled. "Then climb. The path tests all who take it."
Ren looked up at the endless stairs and groaned. "Tests already? Can't they start with lunch?"
She nudged him. "Come on, humble one."
---
As they began their ascent, the valley below spread wide—a world of color and noise, full of life. The wind carried laughter from the villages, the ringing of hammers, the chant of cultivators in practice. Ria's heart swelled.
The flame within her flickered, not with divine power, but with anticipation.
> New Quest — Begin Cultivation in the Human World.
Objective: Join a Sect and Learn the Way of Balance.
Ren glanced back down the mountain. "Think they'll let foxes into their little club?"
"They'll never know," she said, grinning. "But they might learn something new."
And as dawn broke over Cloud-Ridge, the first true light of the mortal world touched them both, setting their borrowed hearts alight.
----