The wind tugged at Kaizetsu's sleeves as he and Kazuki stood at the edge of a forgotten trail, far beyond the city's reach. The land around them was desolate—no roads, no signs, only the whispers of the wind through tall, brittle grass. Clouds loomed like ghostly towers above, casting shifting shadows over the earth. A storm felt close, though the sky had yet to open.
In Kaizetsu's hands rested the weathered book they had retrieved from the hidden library—its leather cover cracked, pages delicate, yet the aura it carried was undeniable. Every time he opened it, the air seemed to hum.
"Here," Kaizetsu said, pointing to a torn page. "It mentions a mountain range past the border. It's vague, but this sketch—it matches the ridge we crossed yesterday."
Kazuki leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the crude illustration. "You're sure this isn't just a squiggly dragon?"
Kaizetsu gave him a look. "I'm sure."
"Alright then." Kazuki sighed, brushing dirt off his coat. "Lead the way, oh chosen tour guide."
Their boots crunched over gravel and dry roots as they continued onward. The climb was relentless. The incline sharpened, winding through narrow paths and sharp ledges. The further they moved, the more the world behind them disappeared—no signs of civilization, no sounds of life. Only wind. Only stone.
Kaizetsu glanced behind once. The path they'd taken was already swallowed by mist. A strange pressure lingered in the air, like something unseen was watching.
Kazuki, usually the talker, had grown quieter as they ascended. He occasionally pointed out strange carvings or pathways Kaizetsu might have missed, his eyes sharper than they let on. There was still the occasional joke—but beneath it, a quiet tension. He wasn't just following. He was watching.
They passed twisted trees growing sideways from cliff faces, bark scorched black, as if struck by ancient lightning. Strange symbols had been etched into scattered rocks, barely visible beneath moss and erosion. Kaizetsu paused a few times to sketch them into the margins of the book, though even he didn't know why. It felt important.
After several hours of climbing, they crested a final rise and stepped onto a narrow plateau carved into the mountainside.
And there it was.
Almost missed beneath vines and rubble, a stone arch lay nestled against the rock—a structure so still and seamless, it looked like it had grown from the mountain itself. Only the engraved runes gave it away, curling along its sides like roots of flame.
Kazuki let out a low whistle. "Well, this looks extremely cursed."
Kaizetsu stepped forward, flipping open the book again. "This is it. The gate to Elerion."
Before Kaizetsu could move closer, Kazuki reached out and stopped him. "Wait," he muttered, crouching beside the arch. He brushed aside a layer of dust and moss, revealing a second set of symbols—different from the ones on the arch. "These weren't made at the same time. Someone added this later... maybe a warning."
Kaizetsu frowned, inspecting the marks. "Then why leave the path open?"
Kazuki stood. "Because someone wanted it found. Just... not walked through."
He approached the arch carefully. The wind shifted—softer now, almost reverent. He ran his fingers across the worn symbols. A low warmth stirred beneath the stone, responding to his touch.
From deep within the book, a phrase pulsed in his memory. He didn't know why he remembered it so clearly—but it came, unbidden:
To part the veil where time forgets, speak the truth the earth rejects.
Kaizetsu whispered the words.
The mountain trembled.
A deep breath seemed to roll through the rocks, pulling the air taut. The arch shimmered faintly—once, then again. The space beyond it twisted, folding inwards like wind-torn cloth. What had been solid stone was now a shifting veil, a rippling passage into blackness.
"Oh great. Now the rocks are bending reality."
Kaizetsu stared ahead, heart pounding in his chest. "It's not just hidden… It was sealed."
And beyond that veil waited Elerion—a city buried not just by time, but by purpose. A city that wasn't meant to be found.
—
Meanwhile—
Far beneath the mountain range, torches lit a vast underground chamber. The city of Elerion stood silent, suspended in eternal dusk. Its once-great towers now leaned with age, half-devoured by root and ruin. Magic laced the air, humming with a rhythm long forgotten.
In the center of the city, where the great temple once stood, The Secret Hand had gathered.
They had chanted the ancient words to break the barrier weeks ago. The ritual was not to awaken the Crown—but the energy source buried in the ruins beneath Elerion. A power older than the kingdom itself. A power meant only for the worthy.
Now, glowing runes danced beneath their feet, forming a seal around the cracked stone beneath the temple floor.
The leader stepped forward—his cloak heavy with dust, but his presence commanding.
"The world silenced this place for a reason," he said. "But we've remembered. We've endured. And now… we reclaim what the King failed to control."
One of the cultists hesitated. "But the Crown rejected you. What if this does too?"
The man's eyes narrowed. "The Crown was forged from the will of the King himself. It carries judgment… absolute and ancient. It didn't reject me because I was weak. It rejected me because I wasn't him."
A tense silence followed—until he continued, voice barely above a whisper.
"The prophecy… It was never meant for me."
He turned slowly, gaze distant now, shadowed by something unspoken. "It speaks of the blood of the King… of the heir who will wear the Crown and shake the world."
His fingers curled into a fist. "I thought that heir was me."
Then his eyes flared with defiance. "But it's him. My son."
Shock rippled through the chamber. But the man didn't waver.
"I will not beg fate for a crown that was never mine. Let the boy have the symbol. I will take the power that lies beneath."
He stepped toward the glowing runes. "The source doesn't care for prophecy. It only obeys those who dare to claim it."
Another voice tried to speak, but he silenced them with a raised hand.
"We don't need the Crown, not yet. The ritual is almost complete. Once the power awakens… everything changes."
Far away, on the edge of the veil, Kaizetsu froze as a pulse of energy surged through the ground beneath his feet.
Kazuki looked around. "Did
you feel that?"
Kaizetsu's expression hardened.
"We're too late."