Shunjiro woke with his cheek pressed against cold earth.

For several seconds, he remained where he was, listening to the silence around him. The ground beneath his face was dry and uneven, packed with dark soil that had stuck to his sleeve and the side of his jaw. A thin layer of mist moved through the trees in slow currents, low enough to cover his boots but not high enough to hide the twisted trunks surrounding him.

His eyes adjusted gradually.

At first, he could only make out shadows. Then the forest began to take shape. Dead trees stood in every direction, their branches stripped bare and stretched toward a black sky. There were no leaves underfoot. No grass. No distant calls from birds or insects. The entire forest felt abandoned in a way that made his breathing sound too loud.

Where am I?

He pushed himself onto one elbow, then stopped as memory began returning.

Tsubasa.

Shunjiro remembered the portal swallowing the ground beneath him. He remembered the pressure around his body as the battlefield disappeared. After that, there was nothing but darkness.

His hand moved toward his waist.

The moment his fingers touched the place where Suzu’s attack should have been, he froze.

He remembered being cut apart.

The memory was too clear to doubt. He remembered the pain, the blood, and the feeling of his body giving out beneath him. He remembered thinking that he would never stand again.

Slowly, Shunjiro pulled his shirt aside.

There was no wound.

His fingers moved across his stomach, then along his side, searching for torn skin, a bandage, anything that explained why he was still breathing. His body was whole. There was no scar. No blood. No soreness beyond the dull weakness running through his limbs.

This makes no sense.

He sat up more quickly, then had to brace one hand against the dirt when dizziness passed through him.

I should have died then.

His eyes lowered to his hands.

Itsuki healed me.

Itsuki had been there when he fell. She had been close enough to reach him. She had already used everything she had trying to save Suzu, and Shunjiro had seen how empty she looked before Tsubasa appeared.

Still, she had saved him.

She should not have had enough energy left.

His throat tightened.

She gave me whatever she had left, and then I disappeared right in front of her.

For a moment, Shunjiro could see her exactly as she had been on the battlefield. Silent. Broken. Staring at the place where he had been taken. 

He clenched one hand against the soil.

I cannot let her believe I am dead. I will come back, Itsuki. I do not care how far he took me. I am coming back.

He let out a slow breath and forced himself to look at the situation in front of him.

His body had healed, but he did not feel strong. The weakness inside him was familiar. It was the feeling that came after pushing spiritual energy too far during training, except this was worse. His energy felt distant, like there was only a small amount left beneath everything else.

Shunjiro closed his eyes and reached inward.

His spiritual energy barely responded.

Enough to defend myself once or twice, maybe. If I use too much now, I will have nothing when I actually need it.

He let the energy settle again.

Do not panic. Panic wastes energy. Worrying does not give you a weapon, food, water, or a way home.

Shunjiro stood slowly.

His knees held beneath him, though his body felt heavier than it should have. He looked himself over carefully. He still wore the clothes from the battle, torn in places and stained with dirt, but he had nothing else. No bag. No weapon. No water. No food. No lantern.

He checked his pockets anyway.

Of course he left me with nothing.

A sharp anger moved through him at the thought of Tsubasa. The man had taken him from the battlefield alive, dropped him somewhere unknown, and made no effort to explain why.

Shunjiro felt the anger rise, then forced it down.

Later. You can be angry later. Right now, think.

He looked around the forest more carefully.

Nothing here was alive.

The trees were dead, but they had not fallen apart with age. Their bark had not rotted. Their trunks had not collapsed into the ground. It was as though life had simply been pulled out of them and left the shells behind.

Shunjiro raised his eyes toward the sky.

A black circle hung above the forest.

At first, he thought it was a cloud. Then he realized it was too clear, too round, and too still.

It was a sun.

Or something that had once been one.

A dark disk sat against the black sky, ringed by a thin gray light that never reached the ground. It gave the forest no warmth. It did not help him see farther. It only hung above the dead trees like an eye that had been watching the world for too long.

Shunjiro’s stomach sank.

No sunlight. No moonlight. Dead trees everywhere.

He turned slowly, searching for anything that might prove he was wrong. A road. A wall. A distant village. A sign that he was still somewhere within the continents.

There was nothing.

The mist swallowed every direction.

The Shadow Realm.

He had heard enough stories to understand what the place was. The Shadow Realm was where corrupted people were sent when the continents decided they could not be killed. It was where creatures lived beyond the safety of the barriers. It was a place adventurers entered with teams, supplies, and routes prepared ahead of time.

And Tsubasa had left him here alone.

Shunjiro pressed his palm against the bark of a nearby tree.

It felt cold beneath his hand.

He expects me to die here.

The thought was frightening.

It was also useful.

If he expects me to die, then he probably does not think I can get out. That means I have to prove him wrong.

Shunjiro looked down at the dirt where he had woken. The shape of his body remained faintly visible in the soil, but the mist was already moving across it. If he walked away without marking the area, he could turn around once and lose his path completely.

First rule. Do not get lost before you even start.

He crouched and began searching the ground for broken branches. Most cracked when he picked them up, dry enough to snap between his fingers. He found several longer pieces and arranged them in the dirt into the shape of an arrow.

He stared at it for a second.

This is not going to save me. But it might stop me from walking in circles.

He placed another marker farther ahead, then stood and studied the forest.

The mist was thinner to his left. The trees were spaced farther apart in that direction, and the ground looked flatter. It did not mean there was anything useful ahead, but it was the only difference he could see.

I need to choose something. Standing here will not make someone appear with a map.

He looked once more at the black sun above him.

It did not move.

It gave him no direction.

Great. Even the sky is useless.

The thought almost made him laugh, but there was no humor in it. He drew in a slow breath instead.

Walk in one direction. Leave markers. Watch the ground. Listen for anything that does not belong. Do not use spiritual energy unless you have to.

Shunjiro started walking.

The ground was mostly level, but roots pushed through the dirt often enough that he had to keep his eyes lowered. The trees crowded close together in some places, forcing him to turn sideways to pass between their trunks. In others, they leaned at sharp angles across the path, their branches tangled above him like the remains of a ceiling.

Every few minutes, he stopped long enough to leave another marker.

The forest did not change.

The mist remained around him.

The black sun never moved.

After a while, Shunjiro stopped trying to guess how long he had been walking. It could have been an hour. It could have been much longer. Without light or a clock, time had become another thing he could not trust.

I need water soon.

His throat was already dry, though he did not know whether it was from the walk or from waking up in the Shadow Realm with nothing.

Food can wait. Water cannot.

He kept moving, watching for signs of a stream, rainwater caught in stone, or anything that suggested there might be water nearby.

Then a feeling settled between his shoulders.

Shunjiro slowed.

Someone is watching me.

He stopped walking.

No footsteps followed behind him. No branches shifted. No voice called through the mist. Still, the feeling did not fade.

Shunjiro turned his head slowly, keeping his body still as his eyes moved between the dead trees.

Do not imagine it. You have been in dangerous places before. You know the difference between being scared and being watched.

Nothing moved.

But the mist behind one of the trees seemed darker than the rest.

His hand lowered beside him.

Do not use spiritual energy yet. If it can sense it, you will be telling it exactly how weak you are.

He studied the ground around him instead.

A fallen trunk lay behind him, split down the middle. A knot of exposed roots pushed through the dirt near his right foot. The mist was drifting from left to right.

If it comes from the front, use the fallen tree. If it comes from behind, make it trip over the roots. If there are two of them, run.

He paused.

What a horrible plan!

His jaw tightened.

It’s all I have right now.

Shunjiro waited another moment before speaking.

“If you understand me,” he said quietly, “come out.”

The words disappeared into the mist.

No answer came.

The pressure between his shoulders remained.

It is smart enough to stay hidden, or it is waiting for me to make a mistake.

Neither possibility gave him much comfort.

He started walking again, this time more carefully than before. He kept close enough to the trees that he could use them as cover if something attacked, but he avoided narrow spaces where he could be trapped. He watched the mist for movement and listened for anything that did not match the sound of his own steps.

As he moved deeper through the forest, Tsubasa returned to his thoughts.

The man had taken him alive.

That was the part Shunjiro could not ignore.

If he wanted me dead, he had chances. He could have killed me on the battlefield. He could have left me there after Suzu attacked but he didn’t.

Tsubasa had fought Kaito without fear. 

Why take me?

Shunjiro did not have an answer.

Maybe he knows something about my energy. Maybe he knows that I’m Takeshi’s brother.

His hands tightened at his sides.

It does not matter yet.

He looked forward into the mist.

I will find out why later. First, I survive. Then I get back to them.

Shunjiro kept moving until the trees began to feel less like separate shapes and more like a single wall closing around him.

The mist never fully cleared, but his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness enough that he could see farther than before. He learned to notice the pale outline of dead roots beneath the dirt and the faint differences between one cluster of trees and another. It did not make the forest easier to navigate. It only made it possible to avoid tripping over something that might leave him injured in a place where he could not afford to be injured.

The feeling of being watched stayed with him.

It did not grow stronger, but it did not disappear either. Every time he stopped to listen, the forest remained still. Every time he turned toward the mist, there was nothing waiting where he expected to find a shadow moving between the trees.

Either it is following me, or it wants me to think it is.

Shunjiro kept his pace steady. He did not run, because running would waste energy and make it easier to lose direction. He did not slow too much, because standing in one place gave whatever watched him more time to decide what it wanted.

Keep moving. Keep listening. Do not give it an easy opening.

His throat had grown dry enough that swallowing had begun to hurt. He had not found water, a path, or any sign that another person had ever walked through this stretch of forest. The dead trees seemed endless, and the black sun above him gave no indication that time was passing.

At some point, he stopped leaving markers.

The branches beneath the trees had become too brittle to stay where he placed them, and the mist had begun swallowing his previous arrows almost as quickly as he made them. He remembered the last direction he had chosen, but he no longer knew whether he had traveled in a straight line or slowly drifted farther off course every time he stepped around a fallen trunk.

I am lost.

Shunjiro did not try to deny it.

He did not know where he was, did not know how far he had come, and did not know whether walking in this direction would lead him toward safety or deeper into the Shadow Realm.

Fine. I am lost. That does not mean I stop.

He wiped one hand over his face, smearing dirt across his skin.

I just need something. A road. A building. Water. Anything that tells me people have been here before.

He took several more steps before something changed in the mist ahead.

At first, Shunjiro thought it was another line of trees.

Then he noticed the shape was too straight.

He slowed immediately.

Dark metal rose from the ground beyond the mist, forming an iron fence that stretched across the forest in both directions. The fence was tall enough that he could not see over it clearly, and its pointed tops disappeared into the gray air above him. Dead vines had grown around some of the bars, curling through the iron in thin, brittle strands.

Shunjiro stood still.

That is not natural.

For the first time since waking, he had found something made by people.

It should have made him feel relieved.

Instead, it made his stomach tighten.

The fence belonged to no village he could see. There were no lights behind it. No voices reached him from the other side. The forest itself seemed to bend around the structure, leaving the iron barrier standing alone among the dead trees as though it had been waiting there long before he arrived.

He moved closer, careful not to touch it at first.

The iron was old, but it had not rusted away. A thick gate stood in the center, decorated with curved patterns that had become difficult to recognize beneath years of dirt and dead vines. Beyond it, he could make out the beginning of a long path made from dark stone.

The path led into the mist.

Shunjiro looked over his shoulder.

The dead forest behind him was unchanged.

No movement. No footsteps. No sign of the thing that had been watching him.

This could be a trap.

Tsubasa had taken him alive. He had brought him to the Shadow Realm and left him alone with no explanation, no supplies, and no way to know where he was. It was possible that this mansion had nothing to do with him.

It was also possible that Tsubasa had dropped him exactly where he wanted him to go.

Shunjiro looked back at the gate.

He could have sent me anywhere. If this is here, I cannot pretend it means nothing.

His fingers settled against the cold metal.

But walking through a dead forest with no water is not a better option. I have been out here long enough to know that.

He looked down the dark path behind the gate.

If this is a trap, then I will deal with it when I understand what kind of trap it is. If it is shelter, I cannot afford to walk away from it.

Shunjiro took a breath.

Take the risk you can see instead of waiting for the one you cannot.

He pushed the gate.

It opened with a long, low groan.

The sound carried through the forest farther than it should have. Shunjiro stood still again, listening for a response. Nothing came from the trees, and nothing came from beyond the gate.

He stepped through.

The path stretched ahead of him, wide enough for a carriage to travel along it. Dead gardens lined both sides, their stone borders cracked and overgrown with gray weeds that had long ago lost any color. Statues stood at uneven intervals beside the path. Some had been worn smooth by time, while others still held enough shape for Shunjiro to recognize armored figures, robed women, and creatures with wings that had broken away at the edges.

None of them had faces.

The mist curled around their feet as he walked past them.

Someone built all of this.

Shunjiro kept his eyes moving.

The grounds were too large to inspect properly, and the trees beyond the fence still surrounded everything. There were no signs of recent travel on the path. No carriage tracks. No footprints in the dirt along the edges. The silence was just as heavy here as it had been in the forest.

Then the mansion came into view.

It stood at the end of the long path, rising beyond the gardens in a shape that looked almost black against the black sky. Its walls were made from dark stone, and its narrow windows reflected no light. Several sections of the roof had steep angles and pointed towers, giving the building a shape that felt more like a fortress than a home.

Shunjiro slowed.

The mansion was enormous.

It did not look ruined, but it did not look welcoming either. The building seemed old enough to have existed before the forest around it died, and the darkness clinging to its exterior made it difficult to tell whether anyone had been inside recently.

I found a mansion in the middle of the Shadow Realm.

The thought sounded absurd even in his own head.

Either I am very lucky, or this is exactly where Tsubasa wanted me to end up.

The path led him to a broad set of stone steps and a pair of tall double doors. The wood was dark and polished, though dust had settled along the carved patterns around the edges. There was no lock he could see. No guards. No warning carved into the walls.

Shunjiro stopped at the bottom of the steps.

The forest was behind him. The gate remained open in the distance. He could walk back into the mist and continue searching for something else.

But he had no reason to believe he would find anything better.

Is walking through the front door smart?

He looked up at the mansion.

No.

The answer came easily.

But neither is dying outside because I was too scared to knock.

Shunjiro climbed the steps.

He raised one hand and knocked against the door.

The sound echoed through the mansion.

He waited but nothing answered.

He knocked a second time, harder than before.

Still nothing.

Shunjiro rested his hand on the handle.

He pushed the door open.

The hinges moved with a quiet groan.

A wide entrance hall stretched before him, lit by several dim lamps mounted along the walls. Their flames were low and pale, casting just enough light for Shunjiro to see the faded carpet beneath his feet and the old paintings hanging along the walls. Most of the portraits had been darkened by age, their faces difficult to make out. A large staircase curved upward toward a second floor that disappeared into shadow.

The mansion smelled of dust, old wood, and something warm beneath it.

Shunjiro stopped just inside the doorway.

His hunger tightened sharply enough that he had to swallow.

Someone is living here.

He kept one hand near his side, prepared to draw on spiritual energy if he had no other choice.

“Hello?” he called.

His voice traveled down the hall and vanished into the house.

For several seconds, there was no answer.

Then a voice came from somewhere deeper inside.

“You could have waited for someone to answer the door.”

Shunjiro turned toward the sound.

A man stepped out from the shadowed hallway at the far end of the entrance hall.

He was tall enough that Shunjiro had to lift his eyes to meet his face. The man stood close to seven feet, broad through the shoulders, with dark skin and long dreadlocks falling behind him. He wore regal clothing in deep colors, old-fashioned but clean, with a long coat that reached below his knees and faint silver details along the collar and sleeves.

A massive sword rested across his back.

The weapon was large enough that Shunjiro could not imagine carrying it comfortably, much less fighting with it.

The man’s eyes were purple.

They settled on Shunjiro without hostility, but they did not miss anything.

Shunjiro felt the pressure of his gaze immediately.

This man was strong.

Stronger than anyone who needed to prove it.

Do not make sudden movements.

Shunjiro kept his stance relaxed, though every part of him remained ready to move.

“I knocked,” he said.

The man raised one eyebrow.

“You did.”

“You did not answer.”

“That is also true.”

Despite himself, Shunjiro hesitated.

The man’s tone was calm, almost amused, but the sword on his back made it difficult to forget how dangerous he could be.

The man stepped farther into the light.

“You are either very brave,” he said, “or you have had an extremely bad day.”

Shunjiro considered the question.

“Both.”

The man gave a short laugh.

“That is honest. I appreciate honest people.”

He studied Shunjiro for another moment before speaking again.

“My name is Malachi. You are standing in my home, though I suppose the forest has a way of making people forget their manners.”

“Shunjiro,” he replied. “I did not mean to enter without permission.”

Malachi glanced toward the open door behind him.

“You did knock first. That is more courtesy than most things outside these walls offer.” His eyes returned to Shunjiro. “Where did you come from?”

Shunjiro did not answer immediately.

He did not know this man. He did not know whether the mansion was safe, whether Malachi had any connection to Tsubasa, or whether speaking too freely would make his situation worse.

But he had come inside because he needed help. Refusing to say anything now would only make Malachi less likely to trust him.

“I am from the Light Continent,” Shunjiro said. “I was in the Coastal Kingdom with my guild.”

Malachi’s expression shifted slightly.

“The Coastal Kingdom is a long way from here.”

“I know.”

“What brought you into the Shadow Realm without food, water, or even a light?”

Shunjiro met his eyes.

“A man named Tsubasa teleported me here.”

The humor disappeared from Malachi’s face.

“Tsubasa?”

Shunjiro nodded.

Malachi’s purple eyes narrowed slightly.

“Tsubasa Astoria?”

“I do not know his last name,” Shunjiro said. “But he had black hair with a white patch, and one of his eyes was purple while the other was white.”

Malachi became quiet.

He looked genuinely concerned.

“That is him,” he said.

Shunjiro watched him carefully.

“You know him?”

“I know enough.” Malachi’s gaze moved toward the open doorway, then back to Shunjiro. “What were you and your guild doing against a man like Tsubasa?”

Shunjiro looked down briefly.

The question made the night feel real again.

“We were not fighting him at first,” he said. “My guild was in the Coastal Kingdom for business. Then the kingdom was attacked by an SS-ranked corrupted person.”

Malachi’s expression darkened.

“An SS-ranked corrupted person?”

“Yes.”

Shunjiro continued before Malachi could ask anything else.

“We fought her with other guilds. We were trying to stop her from destroying the city. Then Tsubasa appeared through a portal after the battle had already gone too far.”

“And what was he there for?”

“He said he was taking her with him.” Shunjiro’s jaw tightened. “Then he said he was taking me too.”

Malachi looked at him for a long moment.

“What reason did he give?”

Shunjiro shook his head.

“He said I had an invitation to join his guild.” His expression hardened. “I do not know why. I do not know who he is. I do not know why he would want someone like me.”

Malachi’s gaze stayed on him.

Shunjiro expected suspicion. He expected Malachi to question him further, perhaps accuse him of leaving something out.

Instead, the older man’s expression became thoughtful.

He knows something.

Shunjiro could see it in the way Malachi looked at him.

Not recognition exactly.

Something closer to interest.

Malachi glanced toward the hallway behind him, where the warm scent of food still drifted through the dim mansion.

“You have had enough questions for one doorway,” he said.

Shunjiro did not relax.

“I still need answers.”

“You will get some.” Malachi’s tone remained even. “I cannot promise every answer you want, but I can tell you what I know.”

He turned slightly and motioned toward the hallway.

“Come inside properly this time. There is food prepared, and you look as though you have been walking through that forest for far too long.”

Shunjiro hesitated.

He could be lying.

The sword on Malachi’s back was still there. The mansion was still unfamiliar. Tsubasa could have sent him here deliberately.

But Malachi had recognized the name. He had not tried to hide that it meant something. He had not demanded Shunjiro’s secrets or made threats. He had offered food, shelter, and information when Shunjiro had nothing else.

I came here because I needed help. I cannot reject the first person who offers it just because I am afraid of what could happen.

Shunjiro gave a small nod.

“Alright.”

Malachi’s expression softened.

“Good. Make yourself at home, Shunjiro. You can join me for a meal, and I will explain all that I can.”

With that, Malachi turned and began walking deeper into the mansion.

Shunjiro looked once toward the open front door, where the dead forest waited beyond the iron fence and mist.

Then he stepped away from it and followed.