The Prophecy

The scene opens with Sumato and Kazumi panting, standing in front of an empty takoyaki stand. A small sign hangs where trays of food once were: “Sold Out.”

Kazumi slowly turns to Sumato with a deadpan stare of betrayal.

“You said we had time,” he mutters.

Sumato whistles, avoiding eye contact, and awkwardly gestures toward the dorms. “Nap first? Clears the mind. Heals the soul.”

Kazumi exhales. “Fine. But only because I wasn't feeling that hungry anyway.”

With a sheepish grin, Sumato bolts ahead, disappearing into the sprawling dorm complex. The dorms are massive 240 rooms, each able to house five people. Every unit comes equipped with personal baths, walk-in closets, toiletries, and a private bedroom area.

Sumato immediately claims the master bed, sprawling across it like a king. Kazumi, as usual, chooses the room closest to the kitchen before slipping into sleep.

Sumato jolts awake into a realm not his own.

The sky burns a muted red. Dead trees claw at the air. The ground beneath his feet is cracked and lifeless, scorched from endless fires.

He steadies his breathing and grabs his sword. His eyes scan the horizon.

“This again?” He mutters.

It had been years since his last dream like this, since the early days of bonding with Sermonta. Back then, the nightmares were relentless, coming every night for a month straight. But they stopped.

So why now?

He walks.

Ash kicks up around him as he moves through the desolate world. Time stretches. The silence presses in.

Eventually, he spots a ruined temple in the distance. Vines and charred stone stretch toward a glowing blue light. Inside, twenty pillars line a path to a single floating amulet.

He approaches cautiously.

Just as his fingers graze the amulet’s glow, something rustles behind him.

He spins, blade ready but nothing’s there.

He exhales, heart steadying. But in the reflection of his sword, there it is.

A black figure. Silent. Watching.

He turns again and now it stands before him, wearing the amulet.

Its voice is gravelly, a whisper that scratches at his ears:
“I know you more than you know yourself. Listen to me.”

Sumato freezes, more curious than afraid.
“…Go on.”

“I am with you. And you are with me. I once asked you why you treated every battle like a joke. But now? You’ve improved. Partially.”

The figure lifts a finger.
“So here’s your reward. I’ll tell you when… but not where.”

Sumato furrows his brow. “When and where, what?”

The figure turns. With a gust of wind, it flings open a massive coffin near the altar.

Inside… lies Sumato’s lifeless body.

He clenches his jaw. “So… you're telling me when I die?”

The figure nods slowly.

Sumato sits on the temple floor, gaze heavy. “And what about who?”

A chuckle echoes through the hall.

“Why so serious?”

Sumato shrugs. “Might as well know what I’m dealing with.”

The figure leans forward.
“It’s someone you know. They’ll kill you… at the waxing of the moon.”

Sumato stands. Nods once. Begins walking away.

But just before exiting, he pauses.
“… Who are you?”

The figure stands in the same place, unmoving, silent, until, “The founder of your story.”

Sumato bolts upright, sweat running down his temple.

Kazumi is at his side, shaking him. “Hey, get up. We may have a problem.”

Sumato rubs his eyes. “Problem?”

Kazumi points toward the door.

Standing in the doorway are Viera and a girl they’ve never seen before.

Both stare at them in complete silence.