Next day.
The morning did not break with the crow of a rooster. It broke with the thunderous, rhythmic booming of giant ceremonial drums.
Arthev jolted awake.
He remembered that day clearly. On Earth, he had simply gone to sleep. It had been a Tuesday. He had finals coming up.
Sometimes, in the quiet moments before he fully woke up, he wondered if he was still sleeping in that bed on Earth. Maybe this whole world, the Spirit Souls, the killing, the blood, was just a fever dream.
Maybe if he pinched himself hard enough, he'd wake up and Sarah would be yelling at him to get ready for school.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The drums outside shattered the thought.
'NOISE!' Shukaku roared inside Arthev's head, the sudden mental shout nearly blinding him.
'Why are they banging on hollow wood?! It's annoying! Arthev, let me out. I will bury the drummer in a sand coffin. I will make silence!'
'Stand down, Shukaku,' Arthev groaned, rubbing his temples. 'It's a festival. Noise is mandatory.'
'It is rhythmic,' Matatabi observed calmly, her voice a soothing contrast to the Tanuki's screeching.
'A celebratory rhythm. Your heart rate is synchronizing with it. You are excited?'
"Not a dream," Arthev muttered, swinging his legs out of bed. "Just another day."
But today wasn't just another day.
Before he could even reach for his black traveler's cloak, the door burst open.
Sunlight flooded the room, outlining a silhouette that was practically vibrating with energy.
"Rise and shine, Wolf-boy!" Lian stood there, holding a bundle of fabric.
"If you sleep in, you will miss the Opening Dance. And if you miss the dance, Grandma Li will hit you with her cane."
Arthev blinked, shielding his sensitive eyes against the glare. "I'm up. And I don't dance."
"Everyone dances today," Lian declared, marching in and dumping the fabric on his bed.
"And you can't wear those dusty black rags. It's bad luck to wear the color of mourning on Serenity Day."
Arthev picked up the garment. It was a tunic made of high-quality silk, dyed a deep, rich indigo with silver embroidery along the hems depicting flowing water.
"It's... blue," Arthev noted.
"It brings peace," Lian corrected. She was wearing a matching set, though hers was crimson and gold, her hair intricately braided with fresh flowers.
She looked radiant, like a spirit of the harvest brought to life. "Put it on. I'll wait outside. You have two minutes before I drag you out!"
She slammed the door, leaving a trail of floral scent in the air.
Arthev looked at the blue tunic. He looked at his black combat gear, reinforced leather, hidden pockets, non-reflective coating. The gear that had kept him alive for twelve years.
He sighed, unbuckling his belt. He slid the indigo silk over his head. It was soft. It didn't chafe. It felt... normal.
He tucked a single, small kunai into his boot, some habits were impossible to break, and stepped out.
------------
Meanwhile, on the Northern Ridge.
Miles away at the edge of the valley, where the mist hung thick, silence ruled.
Two figures moved through the gray fog.
They glided over mossy stone, leaving no trace. Their heavy robes drank in the dim light, blending them into the slate rock of the pass.
The one in front carried a box wrapped in sealing talismans. It hummed against their chest, low and heavy.
They did not speak. They did not glance back at the celebrating village below.
The second figure paused just long enough to watch the faint festival smoke rise.
Something cold and amused settled in their posture. Then they turned away.
The job was done. The switch completed in last night's darkness.
A moment later, they were gone, swallowed by the high-altitude wind.
--------
Back in the Village.
The village had completely transformed.
If yesterday was the preparation, today was the explosion. Every inch of Still Heart Village was draped in color. Streamers of red and gold fluttered from the eaves of every house. The scent of food was overwhelming, roasting wild boar, steaming buns, caramelized fruits, and the sharp tang of spiced wine.
The air was thick with sound. Flutes chirped like birds, string instruments hummed, and beneath it all, the deep, resonant heartbeat of the drums.
"Wow," Lian breathed as Arthev stepped out.
She circled him, nodding approvingly.
"You clean up nice. You almost look like a young noble from Heaven Dou City."
Arthev felt exposed without his hood, but the sun on his face felt surprisingly good.
"It's loose. Bad for combat. If I need to move suddenly, the sleeves will drag."
"No combat today," Lian laughed, grabbing his wrist. "Today, your only enemy is the Spicy Dumpling Challenge. Come on!"
The next few hours were a blur of sensory overload.
Arthev, the cold calculator who analyzed enemy weaknesses for a living, found himself completely disarmed. He was dragged from stall to stall.
He watched the village blacksmith perform a fire-breathing trick using his Spirit Power. He watched children chasing greased piglets, shrieking with laughter.
At the "Test of Strength" stall, a burly man with a Bear Spirit was challenging comers to ring a bell by striking a lever with a hammer.
"Step up!" the man roared. "Who has the strength of a titan?"
Lian nudged Arthev. "Go on."
Arthev looked at the hammer. "It's a simple lever mechanism. Force equals mass times acceleration."
"Just hit it, nerd," she teased.
'Do it!' Shukaku cheered. 'Show them the power. Turn the hammer into dust! Blow up the stall!'
'Just hit the bell, Arthev,' Matatabi sighed. 'Do not listen to the badger.'
Arthev stepped up. He just channeled a flicker of Soul Power into his arm and swung.
CLANG!
The metal weight shot up the track so fast it nearly flew off the top. The bell rang so loudly that the birds in the nearby trees took flight.
The crowd erupted into cheers. The burly man stared, jaw dropped, then laughed and slapped Arthev on the back, handing him the prize: a stuffed toy dragon.
Arthev stood there, holding the plush toy, bewildered. People were clapping. They weren't looking at him with fear or suspicion. They were smiling.
He looked at Lian. She was clapping hardest of all, her eyes crinkled in that familiar crescent shape, Sarah's shape.
For a moment, the overlay of memories faded. He wasn't looking at Sarah anymore.
He was looking at Lian. And he realized, with a start, that he liked her smile, not just the memory it invoked.
"Here," Arthev said, shoving the dragon into her arms. "I have no tactical use for this."
Lian hugged the dragon, beaming. "I'll name him Grumpy. After you."
------
As the afternoon sun began to dip, painting the valley in hues of violet and orange, the festivities quieted down. The music slowed to a reverent hum.
Crowds began to move toward the center of the village, where the dais stood. The white cloth had been removed from the "Stone of Serenity."
It sat on the altar, a perfect, polished geode pulsating with a soft, milky light.
Arthev stood near the front with Elder Mu.
He frowned slightly.
'Something is wrong,' Matatabi said instantly.
Her voice was sharp, cutting through Arthev's relaxed state. 'The radiation signature. It's... empty.'
'What do you mean?' Arthev asked, tense.
'Yesterday, the stone felt heavy,' Isobu whispered. 'Like a deep ocean anchor. Today... it feels like a bubble. It's shiny, but there is nothing inside.'
"The resonance..." Arthev whispered to himself.
"Strong, isn't it?" Elder Mu smiled, misunderstanding him. "The Stone is eager to receive our thanks."
Arthev didn't reply. His senses were sharp. Yesterday, the air around the village felt heavy, anchored. Today, the Stone looked the same, it glowed the same, but the feeling of heavy gravity was gone. The air felt... thin. Fragile.
'Perhaps it is part of the recharge cycle,' Arthev rationalized, pushing the paranoia down. 'Lian said the barrier lowers today.'
'I don't like it,' Shukaku growled. 'It smells like a trick. Like false gold.'
"Tonight," Mu said, his voice raising to address the gathering crowd. "We renew the pact! We offer our Spirit Power to the Stone, and it grants us another year of peace!"
The villagers cheered. The atmosphere was electric with faith and unity.
Twilight settled. The valley was now lit only by hundreds of lanterns and the glowing Stone.
"It's starting," Lian whispered, standing beside Arthev. She clutched the stuffed dragon to her chest.
"This is the best part. When the barrier resets, the sky clears. You can see the stars like nowhere else in the world."
"You stand close to the altar?" Arthev asked, noting her position.
"I'm the Flower Bearer this year," she said proudly, puffing out her chest. "I have to place the first offering. Wish me luck?"
Arthev looked at her. The crimson dress, the flowers in her hair, the unburdened hope in her eyes.
"Luck," he said softly.
Then, driven by an impulse he couldn't name, he reached out and straightened a flower that was slightly askew in her braid.
"Don't trip."
Lian blushed, swatting his hand away playfully. "I never trip."
She turned and walked toward the dais, joining the circle of elders.
Arthev stepped back into the crowd, folding his arms. He watched her go. He felt a profound sense of calm.
He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of pine and incense.
'This feels like.....,' he thought.
The music stopped. The chanting began.
Elder Mu raised his staff. A visible stream of white Soul Power flowed from him, joined by the energy of the other elders, channeling directly into the Stone.
"Oh Ancient Anchor, accept our spirit!" Mu chanted.
The energy hit the Stone.
It should have absorbed it. It should have glowed brighter and released a wave of stabilizing force.
Instead, a high-pitched whine pierced the air.
SCRREEEEEEEE
Arthev's eyes snapped open. The sound wasn't right. It sounded like glass under too much pressure.
'IT'S GOING TO BREAK!' Matatabi screamed in his mind. 'Arthev! It's a generic storage crystal! It can't hold that much density!'
'TRAP!' Shukaku roared. 'GET DOWN!'
His instinct screamed. The calm vanished instantly. Soul Power flooded his optical nerves.
Shinragan.
The world turned monochrome. He looked at the Stone.
His breath stopped.
Under the gaze of his eyes, the Stone wasn't a dense core of spatial energy. It was hollow. It was a shell. A cleverly crafted forgery made of common spirit glass, unable to hold the massive influx of energy being poured into it.
"Stop!" Arthev roared, his voice cutting through the chanting. He lunged forward. "Don't....!"
But he was too late.
He looked up, his enhanced vision catching a blur of movement miles away on the horizon, two shadows disappearing over the peaks, long gone, leaving only the trap behind.
In the center of the village, the fake stone couldn't hold the charge.
CRACK.
The sound was louder than thunder.
The fake Stone of Serenity didn't just break. It detonated.
And without the Anchor to hold it back, the ancient, unstable rift beneath the village didn't just open.
It screamed.
To be continued....