From Ashes, Yet Unburned

Rokuro flinched.

“Wait—what did you just say?”

The king rose from his throne, each step down the dais echoing like a verdict.

“What is your name, young man?”

Rokuro paused, then answered, “Adachi Rokuro.”

“A fitting name.” The king smiled faintly. “Adachi Rokuro. You are the Lock we are in desperate need of.”

Gasps echoed through the hall. The moment the king raised his arm, silence fell.

The Lock? Summoning? Portalia?

This time, Rokuro didn’t care who he was speaking to. He simply snapped.

“Okay—no offense—but I have zero idea what in the blue hell is going on! What’s a Lock? How did you summon me!? I watched everyone I know die, and now you expect me to just roll with this crap!?”

“Know your place!”

“Show respect to His Majesty!”

The servants erupted, but the king silenced them again—this time with a glare that warned them not to speak out again.

“I understand your outburst,” he said. “I will explain.”

“Explain…” Rokuro muttered, pressing his fingers to his temple, “Then please do…”

Before the king could speak further, the sliding doors opened once more. A tall, lean man stepped inside, his walk graceful, his white-and-gold robes flowing with purpose. His long brown hair was parted to the side, his face clean-shaven and sharp beneath the chandelier light.

“Ah, Lucas. Just in time.”

“Your Majesty,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I heard you called for me.”

“I did.” The king gestured toward Rokuro. “It appears this young man is the Lock of prophecy.”

Lucas blinked, then turned to Rokuro, brows raised.

“I see.” He gave a knowing smile, then looked back to the king. “Is he familiar with it?”

“He is not,” the king said, sitting back down. “You may brief him.”

Finally, Rokuro thought.

“Master Lock…” He began, voice measured, “You are special.”

“Special…” Rokuro echoed flatly. It didn’t feel like a compliment right now.

“Locks are born with the purpose of maintaining balance across all realms within a single Ring Realm. Ring Realms are made up of worlds—your own, Portalia, and many others. When that balance is threatened, the Lock appears to restore it.”

Lucas spoke with arms folded behind his back and a voice that left no room for doubt. But to Rokuro, it sounded utterly insane.

“I’m sorry, I… So I’m in another world, and I’m some kinda chosen kickass being that fights between multiple worlds?”

“Essentially, yes,” Lucas replied smoothly. “A kickass special being, as you put it.”

“But… how am I supposed to believe that? An hour ago, I was home. Everything was normal!” Rokuro snapped.

“Calm down, Master Lock—”

“You can’t just tell me I’m in another world! Stuff like that doesn’t happen! This isn’t fiction!”

His voice rang through the hall. Silence followed.

“The ‘real life’ you speak of,” Lucas began, “is likely your world’s version of logic and order. But here in Portalia, what you call fiction is taken as fact.”

He extended his arms toward the grand chamber.

“Look around you. Where do you think you are?”

Rokuro’s eyes scanned the palace. The clothes, the guards, the air—none of it belonged to Tokyo. This wasn’t just far from home. This was somewhere else.

Why did it feel so real? Why did some part of him accept it?

“Perhaps,” the king said, rising once more, “if we show him, he’ll begin to understand.”

╒ 🗝 ╛

Once again, Rokuro walked the polished halls of the palace. This time, without guards—just the king and his right hand man.

“Young man,” the king began as they descended into the dark belowground, “Could you perhaps explain to us what happened in your realm?”

Like a stab to the chest, Rokuro’s jaw clenched.

His sister. His best friend. His mom… he didn’t even want to think about it. The events hadn’t even begun to process in his mind, and yet…

As the king waited, Lucas unlocked a tall, wrought-iron door at the end of a torchlit hall.

“I… It was a normal day,” Rokuro said slowly. “Then my sister’s school exploded. Soldiers in strange armor came down in an airship.”

Lucas froze with the key mid-turn.

The king, too, went still.

“I tried to find her. But the soldiers overpowered me and my friend. Then a man showed up—their leader. They… killed my friend.” Rokuro’s voice caught. “And then right before he slit my throat... Everything went dark.”

That was it. His final memory. And for a moment, the king and Lucas just stood there.

Then the king gave a nod. Lucas opened the door.

They stepped into a vast chamber, far larger than the narrow hallway had hinted at. Purple torches lit walls lined with scrolls and books. The ceiling stretched so high it vanished into shadow.

But at the center—was the gate.

A pulsing magical archway leading into a void of swirling violet light, so deep and endless that looking into it made Rokuro’s head spin.

Lucas turned toward Rokuro.

“Master Lock. The leader you saw—can you describe him?”

Rokuro’s eyes darkened. “Red cape. Full silver and red mask. Couldn’t see his face but he had a glowing… third eye.”

Lucas and the king exchanged a look.

“Then it seems,” Lucas said quietly, “Our troubles won’t end with just your summoning.”

“What… what do you mean?” Rokuro asked. Were they familiar with the attack?

“That you don’t need to take our word for it. You need only believe your eyes. That masked man—the one who led the attack on your world—is the one causing the disturbances we speak of. And you saw him.”

“He made it to your world as well.” the king sighed, arms folded,“But the army you saw… Draven hasn’t acquired that yet.”

“Draven?” Rokuro repeated, his blood going cold.

“That man… is the one you must stop,” the king said. “His name is Draven, and he will tear the Ring Realms apart to get what he wants.”

Rokuro’s mind blanked. That guy? That monster was his target?

“But… how the hell am I supposed to stop someone like that? Did you even see—”

“We’ll get there,” the king interrupted. “But first… your world. Your family.”

Rokuro straightened. His eyes burned with defiance.

“What would you say,” the king asked, “if I told you… you could still save them all?”

“How?”

Rokuro didn’t waste a second. He stepped up to the king, eyes locked in a hard, steady stare.

“Master Lock.” Lucas reached out, grabbing his arm—likely the closest he could get to his liege.

“Be calm, Lucas. The Lock isn’t as irrational as he appears,” the king said.

“I don’t know about irrational,” Rokuro muttered, “but I know I can’t ignore what you just said, Your Majesty. Now, if you’d be so kind… how can I save my family? Is it even possible?”

“It most certainly is.” The king placed a steady hand on Rokuro’s tense shoulder. “You see, the realms are interconnected—but time doesn’t flow the same in each of them.”

“What His Majesty means,” Lucas continued, “is that while Draven may have already reached your world with an army… here, in Portalia, in this specific time he hasn’t yet acquired such power. If you confront him before he grows stronger… it’s possible that future may never come to pass.”

“What in the blue hell are you talking about?” Rokuro winced, pain shooting through his skull like a blade. He staggered back, clutching his temple. “You’re talking about… time paradoxes? How does that even work?”

“Do you truly need all the details?” the king asked gently. “Or will you trust our word?”

“Let’s leave the details for later…” Rokuro muttered, shaking off the pain in his head. “You said may never… That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“It’s a highly educated guess, based on real possibilities. And those possibilities seem to be in both your favor and ours.”

Rokuro’s fists clenched. “Then what do I have to do to turn that guess into a guarantee?”

“Be fast,” the king answered. “Every second counts. Even a single clash with Draven may be enough to shift the course of time. But if you want to be certain—truly certain—you must stop him. Completely.”

Those words struck harder than any theory or prophecy before. Cold. Final. Real.

Rokuro took a step back, his thoughts racing.

None of this was a dream. Not a hallucination. Not a delusion. The world he left behind—his mother, his sister, his friend, his city—it was gone. Reduced to nothing.

And here he was, standing before a king and his aide in some fantasy chamber, being told he was chosen. That he had a role to play. That he had the chance—no, the duty—to make it right.

Could he do it?

Did he have the right not to?

His mind reeled with flashes—

The mother he ignored.

The sister he always brushed off.

The friend who annoyed him daily.

The streets he hated walking.

The house he never appreciated.

Even the father he could barely remember.

He wasn’t sentimental. He wasn’t even aware of what he had… until it was gone.

Now, in that hollow space inside his chest, where regret had taken root, only one thing remained: resolve.

He couldn’t undo the past. Couldn’t rewrite the things he failed to say or do.

But he could fight—for them.

Just this once.

The choice felt like it had already been made. Not by prophecy. Not by a king.

But by him.

“I’ll do it,” Rokuro said quietly. Then louder, “If there’s even a chance that what I saw back home won’t happen… then there’s no way I’m walking away from that.”