When the Light Finally Stepped Forward:
Ren had always believed silence meant safety.
That belief shattered the moment the wind stopped.
No rustle.
No echo.
No breath.
The ruined street froze mid-moment, dust hanging unnaturally in the air. Ren felt it before he saw it—the pressure, deep and ancient, like standing before something that had outlived entire eras.
His sword trembled.
Not violently.
Respectfully.
Ren's grip tightened. "Show yourself."
The words barely left his mouth when the world answered.
---
The First Step
Light bent.
Not bright, not blinding—but pure, slicing clean through shadow like a blade through mist.
A figure stepped forward.
Tall. Calm. Cloaked in white layered with faint gold sigils that shifted when viewed directly. His presence alone straightened the air.
Ren's knees almost buckled.
Not from fear.
From instinct.
From something buried deep in his blood that whispered:
Stand properly.
The man rested a staff against the ground.
"I am Hokuren," he said.
"Keeper of the First Oath."
Ren's breath caught.
Before he could speak—
---
The Second and Third
Two more presences emerged, one from Ren's left, one from his right.
The second was a woman, eyes sharp as broken glass, armor etched with scars instead of decoration. A sword rested across her shoulder like an extension of her spine.
"Astraea," she said bluntly.
"Blade of Judgment."
The third laughed softly.
A man with loose robes, chains wrapped around his arms—not binding him, but anchoring him. His smile was easy. His eyes were not.
"Kaien," he said.
"Watcher of Balance. Don't worry, kid—you're still breathing."
Ren realized then—
None of them felt human.
---
The Remaining Four
The shadows behind Ren peeled away like torn paper.
A young woman stepped out, carrying scrolls bound in glowing thread. Her gaze softened when it met Ren's.
"Mireya," she whispered.
"Bearer of Memory."
Next came a massive figure, face hidden beneath a helm cracked down the center. Every step he took felt like a heartbeat striking the earth.
"Gorun," he rumbled.
"Shield of the Covenant."
The sixth arrived without sound.
A man cloaked in twilight, his outline flickering like a mirage. Ren couldn't remember his face no matter how hard he tried.
"Noiriel," the man said.
"Warden of What Must Not Be Seen."
Finally—
The air behind Ren split.
Light and shadow braided together, and from it stepped the last Guardian.
A woman.
Young—too young.
Yet her eyes held centuries.
She carried no weapon.
She didn't need one.
"Elthea," she said gently.
"Voice of the Light Guardians."
Seven.
They formed a circle around Ren—not trapping him.
Protecting him.
---
The Truth Hits
Ren's sword screamed.
Not in pain.
In recognition.
He fell to one knee, chest burning, memories he never lived crashing against his mind—battlefields, oaths, bloodstained banners, a dragon-shaped shadow curling around steel.
"Why… are you here?" Ren whispered.
Elthea stepped closer.
"Because the Dark remembers you," she said.
"And because you are standing at the same crossroads as the one before you."
Ren looked up, eyes shaking.
"I don't want a destiny."
Astraea lowered her sword slightly.
"None of us did," she said.
Hokuren planted his staff into the ground.
"The Dark Dragon Sword has stirred twice," he said gravely.
"The third time will not be a whisper."
Kaien's smile vanished.
"And when that happens," he added, "the world will stop pretending this is a coincidence."
---
Elsewhere — At the Training Ground
Tobi gasped.
The Dark Dragon Sword erupted with power—not uncontrolled, but vast.
Yanshi stepped back.
Miss Shiratori's eyes widened.
Ishawa muttered, "So they've decided…"
The markings on the blade flared.
And for a split second—
A circle of seven lights reflected on the steel.
---
Back to Ren
Elthea extended her hand.
"Ren," she said softly.
"You are not alone anymore."
Ren hesitated.
Then took it.
And somewhere deep beneath the world, something ancient smiled.