Sakuya was still dazed.
The wall behind him, cold and unmoving, felt like the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely. A metallic taste clung to his tongue.
Blood.
And the pain… it didn't stay in one place. It spread. It seeped across his face, slid beneath his skin, burrowed into his skull as if every bone had suddenly decided to assert its existence.
Mizunashi's words reached him—but distorted. Distant. As if they had to pass through a thick layer of water before reaching his mind.
Defend yourself with everything you've got.
It took him a moment to understand.
Not long.
A few seconds at most.
But within those seconds, everything was blurred. The images wouldn't connect. The intent remained unclear.
Then everything snapped back into place.
This wasn't a standard exercise.
This wasn't a warning.
This wasn't something said just to test his reaction.
This was real.
Something shifted inside him.
Sakuya slowly raised his head.
His gaze immediately found Mizunashi's.
The man hadn't moved. Not an inch. Still upright. Still perfectly steady, as if anchored into space itself. His aura remained compressed around him—dense, vibrating—intense enough to subtly distort the air, like invisible heat bending the horizon.
He was waiting.
Without impatience. Without doubt.
With that calm, unsettling certainty of those who have already decided everything. Those who no longer hesitate, who no longer need to think about their limits—because they've already surpassed them.
And now, he was waiting to see if Sakuya could do the same.
Sakuya held his gaze.
Something stabilized within him.
It wasn't fear.
Not anger either.
It was deeper.
Calmer.
If I want to protect people…
If I truly want to become strong…
A pause. Internal. Absolute.
Then I have to be able to face anything.
His gaze didn't waver.
And anyone.
He stood.
The movement was difficult at first. His muscles protested, his breathing still caught in his chest as if every inhale pulled against something cracked inside him.
But he kept going.
Slowly.
Without rushing.
Until he was standing.
At the same height as Mizunashi.
Back straight. Eyes locked.
The silence between them changed.
It grew heavier. Denser.
Almost tangible.
Then Sakuya spoke.
His voice was low. Steady. Completely controlled.
"Mizunashi Seishō."
A brief moment passed.
Barely half a second.
But it carried everything they had been through so far—the training, the failures, the tension, the unspoken.
"Know this."
"I will never back down."
He didn't give room for a reply.
"Come."
---
The special training room was isolated from the rest of the complex.
A place designed to contain what should neither be seen…
Nor heard.
At least, in theory.
---
Three corridors away, Agent Daichi Mori was finally enjoying a moment of peace.
Slouched in a worn but comfortable chair, he held a still-steaming cup of green tea. The television idly broadcast NHK news, the volume low enough not to disturb the silence.
After several consecutive nights on patrol, he had allowed himself this break without the slightest guilt.
The tea was perfect.
The news, predictable.
His eyelids grew heavier.
Then a sharp alert tone rang out.
An emergency interruption.
He opened one eye.
A red banner was already flashing across the screen. The presenter—usually composed—showed a barely concealed tension.
"We interrupt this program for a matter of national importance."
Daichi straightened slightly without even realizing it.
"For the first time in its history, Japan will participate in the Seoul World Seimei Tournament. The official N.A.S.C delegation will consist of four selected agents, whose identities will be revealed in the coming days. This decision marks a historic turning point in national Seimei policy."
Daichi froze.
Japan.
In the world tournament.
For the first time.
But his thoughts didn't have time to go further.
A dull sound interrupted the broadcast.
Then another.
Then several.
Impacts.
Close.
Rhythmic.
His gaze slowly shifted toward the wall on his right.
(Sounds like Sky Shifts…)
He didn't get to finish the thought.
The wall exploded.
Not cracked. Not weakened.
Destroyed.
Concrete gave way all at once, blasted inward as if it had never been meant to resist anything.
And through the opening, a body shot across the room at full speed.
Violet hair.
Before slamming violently into the television with a sharp crack.
The silence that followed was brutal.
Daichi stared at the gaping hole.
Then the man.
Then the shattered remains of the screen.
Then his tea, spilled across the floor.
He inhaled slowly.
…That was my break.
A silhouette appeared in the opening.
Unlike the other, it wasn't thrown.
It entered.
Simply.
One step. Then another.
As if the wall had never existed.
As if the chaos meant nothing.
The presence it carried crushed everything else.
Daichi shot to his feet.
"Omega-0…?"
His gaze flickered between the two men, desperately searching for logic, context—something he could understand.
"Is that man a threat?"
He tried to take a stance.
But his body refused.
Too slow. Too stiff.
As if it had already understood what his mind hadn't—that it wouldn't matter.
No response.
No acknowledgment.
He didn't exist.
Sakuya rose from the debris without hesitation.
Without thinking.
And he attacked.
With everything he had.
Mizunashi intercepted the movement with absurd ease.
One hand.
Grabbing his collar like stopping a falling object.
Sakuya hung there, suspended, unable to move forward.
"This is what separates an Epsilon or a Theta from the rest."
His voice was calm.
Almost instructional.
His free hand extended toward the shattered remains of the wall.
Concrete and steel reacted instantly.
They vibrated.
Then moved.
Pulled. Guided.
Within seconds, they gathered into a spear.
Dense.
Stable.
Perfect.
Then it ignited.
An intense, unstable flame—almost alive—warping the air around it.
"We can manipulate our surroundings through our Seimei."
A brief glance toward Daichi.
Still frozen.
"Don't worry. It's just a special training session."
Then his full attention returned to Sakuya.
Who was still struggling.
Uselessly.
"You became intangible against Jūzō."
His fuchsia eyes locked onto his.
Sharp. Precise.
"Let's see if that ability is still there."
In one smooth, precise motion, Mizunashi brought the spear down toward Sakuya's right shoulder.
No hesitation.
No restraint.
A clean, decisive strike.
But at the exact moment the burning tip should have pierced flesh—
Something shifted.
The air changed.
Around Sakuya, a violet aura burst forth without warning.
Violent.
Unstable.
Almost unbearable to look at.
It didn't just exist—it altered everything around it, slightly warping space like heat without a source, as if reality itself hesitated to remain coherent near him.
The spear passed through him.
Completely.
Without resistance.
Without impact.
As if Sakuya had never been there.
The tip emerged from his back—intact, untouched—without the slightest interaction with a body that, a fraction of a second earlier, had undeniably been real.
At the same moment, Mizunashi's hand closed.
On nothing.
His fingers clenched into empty space, meeting that strange absence—that presence without substance, like a misalignment between two states of reality.
Sakuya didn't think.
Didn't analyze.
His body had already decided.
His fist moved.
A straight punch.
Brutal.
Direct.
All his strength concentrated into a single point.
This time—
There was contact.
Real.
Clean.
The impact echoed through the air—sharp and precise, like a period dropped without warning.
It wasn't enough to hurt Mizunashi.
Not yet.
But it was real.
Real enough to make him step back.
One step.
Just one.
But it existed.
And that changed everything.
The silence that followed had nothing in common with the ones before.
It was no longer filled with anticipation.
Nor tension.
It was marked by a new certainty.
Mizunashi smiled.
A real one.
Not amused. Not mocking.
Satisfied.
"This…"
A brief pause. His gaze fixed on him.
"…is what a being becomes when Seimei and the mind are no longer two separate things."
Another pause.
"The Fusion of Seimei and Soul."