The sky outside Tier's home was quiet.
No war. No blood. No pressure. Just the sound of distant waves lapping against cliffs, and the soft wind pushing lazily through the trees. Inside, it was peace for once. Real peace. Not temporary. Not forced.
Tier's living room was lit by warm, yellow light. Soft cushions. Wooden floors. A couch that had definitely seen better days, but still managed to hold four people without collapsing.
Dark sat furthest left, slouched deep into the couch with one leg hanging over the edge, his coat half-buttoned, his eyes lazily on the TV but not really watching. Tier was beside him, remote in hand, half-focused on flipping channels, half-focused on the drink in his other hand.
Leona sat with her knees up on the opposite end of the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest, eyes soft, resting—not asleep, just calm. Gilmuar leaned back in the armchair, long hair tied loosely behind him, eyes closed, but awake. Always awake.
Cron was in the kitchen, flicking his fingers lazily as he tried to toast bread with a flick of dark energy that failed over and over.
Tier: (snorting) Just plug it in, man.
Cron: Why would I use a toaster when I can literally bend space?
Tier: Because you've been bending space for the last 20 minutes and the bread's still white.
Cron: (mutters) Technicalities.
Dark didn't respond. His eyes were half-closed, his arms crossed. For once, the weight of everything wasn't pressing down. This was a moment. A small one. But real.
And then—
beep
The screen flashed. Tier raised an eyebrow.
Tier: What the hell?
The TV cut from whatever old comedy rerun they had left on, replacing it with an emergency news broadcast. A reporter stood with panic half-hidden in his voice, hair being blown by wind that didn't feel natural.
Reporter: —I repeat, this is not a drill. Strange phenomena have begun emerging on Bejiru Island. Citizens have reported time distortions, rapid aging, reverse aging, clocks freezing, shadows moving independently, and... something else.
The image flickered. A wave of static cut through the signal.
Reporter: Scientists believe this may be tied to a temporal anomaly deep beneath the island's surface. Energy signatures match ancient relics previously linked to... Sojo.
Everyone in the room froze.
The air changed. From cozy, to something thinner.
Tier: (sits up straight) Did he just say... Sojo?
Cron dropped the bread.
Gilmuar's eyes opened fully now. No tiredness in them. Just sharp calculation.
Dark sat forward, elbows on his knees, gaze fixed on the screen.
Reporter: The anomaly is growing. The local government has closed access, but dozens have already gone missing. Anyone watching this—stay away from Bejiru Island.
Dark: (flatly) That's where we're going.
Tier: Dark, didn't you hear what the guy said? People are vanishing. Time's breaking.
Dark: Exactly.
Leona: (quietly) You think it's connected to Sojo?
Dark: No. I know it is.
Cron: Then why would he let that happen?
Dark stood. His eyes had already changed.
Dark: Because Sojo's not behind it. He's warning us.
Gilmuar stood too, cracking his neck.
Gilmuar: That island... Bejiru. It's old. Older than most realize. It was sealed by time, not nature.
Cron: Sealed by time?
Dark: (nodding slowly) If anyone could do that—it's him.
Tier: But we've already met Gilmuar. We've met Kenzo. Who the hell else is related to Sojo?
Dark: (thinking) Or what...
The silence was different now.
It wasn't fear. It was expectation. Pressure beginning to form under the skin.
Because this wasn't just another cursed island.
This was Sojo's legacy—spilling into the world again.
And it was calling for them.
Dark: We leave by morning.
Cron: Should we pack?
Dark: No. If time breaks, packing won't matter.
Leona: Do you think... we'll meet him again?
Dark turned his head toward her slowly.
Dark: We're not going to meet Sojo.
Dark: We're going to meet whatever he locked away.
Gilmuar: (narrowing his eyes) You think it's another son?
Dark: (softly) I think it's worse.
The lights flickered once.
Just once.
The wind outside stopped blowing.
And somewhere—far across the ocean, in the cracked heart of Bejiru Island, something opened one eye.
It didn't remember its name.
But it remembered who sealed it.
Its voice was not a whisper.
It was decay given sound. Malice layered in ash, laced with something far older than hate. A growl, cracked and stuttering like it had been buried alive in broken time.
???: (low, snarling growl) Sojo...
???: I... am coming for you.
The wind didn't carry the voice. It retreated from it.
Somewhere deep beneath Bejiru Island, something pulsed once—then stopped. Not a heartbeat. Not a signal. Just weight. The kind of pressure that didn't belong in the world, yet had been buried in it like a miscalculation made flesh.
Stones cracked in silence. A mountain slope twisted slightly, like it had shifted in its sleep. And across the jungle, birds that didn't exist anymore suddenly screamed before vanishing into dust.
Meanwhile—
Dark: (looking up toward the sky) ...Did you feel that?
Leona: Yeah. I felt it in my bones.
Cron: (gritting his teeth) That wasn't pressure.
Cron: That was a threat.
Tier stood near the edge of a shattered cliff, staring into the fog-drenched horizon. The island's terrain dipped unnaturally ahead, forming a crater-shaped valley overgrown with trees that bent like they were hiding something beneath them.
Tier: There's a cavern under that valley.
Gilmuar: (tensely) And under the cavern... there's something Sojo locked away.
Dark didn't blink. His gaze stayed locked on the distant horizon, on that unnatural pulse that had just radiated through existence like a warning bell stuck in reverse.
Dark: Then we break the seal and see what time was afraid to bury.
Cron: (cautious) You sure that's smart?
Dark: Never said it was.
He turned away from the group and started walking toward the dip in the earth. The air grew colder the closer they got—yet the jungle didn't shiver. It paused, like everything was holding its breath.
Leona stepped up beside Dark, glancing toward him with quiet concern.
Leona: You think this... thing knows who Sojo is?
Dark: No.
Dark: I think it knows what he is.
They reached the edge of the valley.
And far below, etched into the walls of the cavern, was a single symbol—older than language, carved in reversed time.
The mark of Sojo.
Dark: (thinking) This isn't just about time.
Dark: This is about something Sojo couldn't control.
He walked forward.
The entrance split open with a hiss.
And deep within—something smiled in the dark.
The stone corridor inhaled them.
That was the only way to describe it.
Dark stepped in first, boots scraping against the warped surface of the tunnel floor—stone that hadn't been carved, but compressed by centuries of pressure. Pressure not from earth, but from decisions. From regrets. From locked moments in time no one was supposed to revisit.
The moment the last of them entered, the entrance behind them sealed.
Not slammed shut.
It simply stopped existing.
Cron: (gritting his teeth) The hell...
Tier turned around, fingers immediately tapping the side of his wrist-mounted interface. Lights flickered, attempting to stabilize a readout.
Tier: My scanner's dead. No signals. No interface. Nothing.
Gilmuar: Tech won't save you here. Same as magic. This place isn't bound by systems.
Leona: Then what's it bound by?
Gilmuar: Memory. Trauma. Time.
Dark: (quietly) This place was made before logic.
They moved deeper into the tunnel, the light thinning into a pale, gray luminance with no source. The walls pulsed faintly, like veins around a slumbering heart. Strange symbols pulsed along the stone—sigils that seemed to rewrite themselves whenever anyone tried to focus on them.
Then—without warning—the silence broke.
Not by sound.
By presence.
Something was watching them.
It didn't crawl. It didn't breathe. It just was—like a wrong number that still rings your phone.
Gilmuar stopped cold, eyes narrowing.
Gilmuar: ...We're not alone.
Cron: How close?
Gilmuar: Close enough to smell us. But far enough to remember us.
Dark: (low) It's not hunting us.
Dark: It's testing the ground we're walking on.
A long, dry breath echoed from ahead.
It wasn't coming from a throat.
It was the sound of memory exhaling.
Then a voice.
Low. Beautiful. Male. But wrong.
???: Dark...
The group froze.
The voice wasn't hostile.
But it wasn't clean either.
It sounded like someone speaking through a cracked mirror—each word distorted as if echoing from a future that had already died.
???: You've finally arrived.
Dark stepped forward again, unfazed. His aura was dimmed—but focused.
Dark: Who are you?
There was silence.
Then a humanoid figure stepped into view, emerging from the deep fog at the far end of the corridor. It had no footsteps. Its legs didn't even fully form—just a slow drift forward, like time refused to finish shaping it.
The being's body was lean, tall, dressed in white robes marked by rusted gold trim and fractured clockwork etchings. A thousand spinning gears were embedded into its arms and spine, many of them jammed, cracked, or bleeding ash. Its face was a blend of porcelain and rotted flesh, flickering between expressions like it hadn't decided which era it belonged to.
Only its eyes remained constant.
Eyes like Sojo's.
Leona: (softly) He looks like him.
Cron: (tensed) No. Something's off.
Tier: (analyzing) My sensors are back online for half a second. Whatever that thing is—its structure's breaking every rule of time. Like... it's glitching between realities.
Dark's eyes narrowed.
Dark: Are you his creation?
???: Creation?
The voice flickered.
Then turned sharp. Tainted. Burning.
???: No.
It raised one broken hand, the tips of its fingers fraying into strands of rusted clock hands.
???: I am his mistake.
Dark didn't move.
Dark: Then you're...
???: His son.
Dark: ...Impossible.
???: I wasn't born. I wasn't made. I was discarded.
It stepped closer. The corridor darkened.
???: Sojo cast me out of time itself. Because I carried the one thing his perfect world couldn't allow.
Dark: And what was that?
The being's face cracked into a smile.
???: Hate.
It stepped into full view now—no longer flickering.
???: I am Jiryu. Cursed Son of Time.
Jiryu: And I've come to collect what Sojo left unfinished.
To Be Continued....
End Of Arc 5 Chapter 23.