TIME FOR ACTION

The world shifted around them. A glimmer, then a sudden jolt solid stone underfoot, the crisp mountain air biting at their lungs.

Above them, a sky stretched endlessly, heavy with silver clouds. The sharp scent of frost and pine danced on the breeze.

Jett was the first to shatter the stillness.
“...So… where the heck are we?” He squinted at the horizon, as if a street sign might magically appear.

B’shara let out a frustrated groan. “Please tell me you were actually paying attention during the council meeting.”

Jett shrugged, scratching the back of his neck, completely unbothered. “I was listening… mostly. I caught the part about ‘danger,’ and then something about ‘glory,’ and then…” He let his voice trail off, feigning a yawn.

“You fell asleep on your feet,” B’shara shot back, her expression deadpan. “I swear, your eyes rolled back like you were possessed.”

"Falsehoods,” Jett declared with a grin. “I was simply… meditating.”

B’shara chuckled, shaking her head. “Well done, Wind-Walker you’ve managed to meditate us right into the heart of the Yarna Highlands.” She spread her arms wide. “Welcome to the Draconic Dimension.”

Shimei could still hear Liora's voice, cold and precise, echoing in his mind as if those words had etched themselves into his very bones.

“The Draconic Dimension isn’t just one place it’s a wound in the fabric of the world, torn open long before anyone wrote history. Each land within it is like a scar, shaped by the beasts that bled through.”

She had stood before the grand mural in the council chamber when she spoke, her pale hand gliding over landscapes painted in flames and frost.

Yarna Highlands:

“A cradle of stone and storm. The dragons once made their nests here, their roars rolling across the peaks like thunder. The air is thin but thick with mana—every creature born here is unnaturally swift and resilient.”

The Gulf of Gallansomin:

“A restless sea. Black waters stretch endlessly, with tides that drag entire fleets into the abyss. The bones of leviathans lie beneath, and sometimes… they stir.”

The Misty Wastes:
“A desert where sight deceives. Sandstorms twist into illusions; paths diverge where none exist. To wander too long is to lose not just your way, but your name, your very self.”

Antinora:
“The southern edge of this dimension. White, endless. A land of silence and frozen corpses that never decay. Scholars whisper it was the first battlefield between man and dragon—its snow remembers the blood.”

Qososamo:
Her voice dropped here, almost reverently.
“The Forest of Drowning Roots. Every tree drinks life; every shadow watches. Venom seeps into the soil, and even the beasts steer clear of its heart. To enter is to gamble with your existence.”

Aiplefiri:
“A temple that predates humanity. Its stone breathes, its walls shift. Each step deeper is a plunge into trials that no one has fully mapped. Some call it the ‘Spine of the Dragon’—others, a tomb.”

Karthmere Castle:
Here, her eyes hardened.
“The heart of ruin. A city consumed by shadow, where no light can thrive. The dead roam its streets, bound in endless servitude. Some say its master still rules, watching, waiting. Others believe the castle itself is alive.”

The memory slipped away, and Shimei found himself back in the moment—the highlands sprawling endlessly in front of them, the wind whispering through the sharp peaks.

Jett let out a low whistle. “So… dragons, monsters, illusions, death-forests, creepy castles. Seems pretty straightforward.”

B’shara nudged him with her elbow. “You forgot to mention that everything here wants us dead.”

Shimei’s grip on the hilt of his blade tightened.
“…Then we’ll just have to strike first.”

The wind howled fiercely across the jagged cliffs of the Yarna Highlands, bringing with it a sharp, metallic scent of frost and stone.

The peaks towered like spears thrusting into the sky, and the ground beneath them seemed to pulse faintly, as if the mountain itself had a heartbeat.

Jett’s keen eyes scanned the ridges, his hand resting on the hilt of his curved blade.

“…Something’s off. The wind… it’s changing.”

B’shara groaned, stretching her arms with a lazy yawn. “Please don’t tell me we’re about to hear another one of your ‘I can feel the mountain breathing’ speeches.

"Last time you said that, it turned out to be just my stomach growling.”

Jett shot her an annoyed look, but before he could respond, the ground ahead of them cracked open. From the fissure, a pack of obsidian-scaled creatures emerged, each one resembling a wolf fused with jagged rock, their eyes glowing like molten amber.

Their claws scraped against the stone, sending sparks flying as they circled, growling low.

Ilan tilted his head, his blind eyes shimmering faintly. “This isn’t natural. These aren’t just beasts—they’re manifestations of the dimension itself. The Highlands are alive.”

B’shara’s grin widened as she drew her dual blades with a flourish. “Finally! Something worth fighting!”

But the wolves didn’t charge. Instead, they moved with purpose. One let out a sharp bark that cracked like stone, and two leapt to the side, blocking any escape routes. Another three surged forward, their jaws dripping with molten saliva that hissed against the cold rock.

“Don’t act recklessly,” Shimei said calmly, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade. His stance was different from the others quiet and measured.

The air around him felt still yet sharp, as if every move had already been calculated in his mind.

The pack lunged.

B’shara charged at them, her blades a whirlwind of motion, sending sparks flying as steel met hardened obsidian. Jett launched himself upward with a powerful slash, sending one beast soaring before bringing it crashing down with a fierce kick.

Ilan raised his hand, weaving threads of mana that shimmered like invisible waves, nudging one wolf just enough off its path for B’shara’s blade to find its mark in its throat.

But more kept emerging from the crack. Ten… fifteen… twenty. The air thickened with their growls.

“Che,” Jett muttered, frustration evident. “It’s a den.”

Finally, Shimei unsheathed his sword. His movements were sharp and efficient, devoid of any unnecessary flair.

With a single step forward, his blade sliced cleanly through the air.

A wolf lunged at him its head dropped before it even hit the ground. He shifted again, his body moving with martial grace, elbowing one beast before spinning into a diagonal slash that cleaved another in two.

The others sensed it. A palpable weight, a sharp force cutting through not just the wolves, but the very essence of the battlefield.

For the first time, B’shara halted mid-swing, her brows raised in surprise as she watched him. “…What was that?”

Even Ilan tilted his head, a subtle smile creeping onto his face. “He’s not just any swordsman.”

For a moment, there was silence among them. Jett rubbed his temple, clearly trying to process everything.

“…So, we’re really expected to keep up with that?”

B’shara threw her hands up in the air, a wide grin on her face despite the blood smudged on her cheek.

“Totally worth it! I don’t care if he’s a little crazy Shimei’s in!”

Ilan turned his face toward Shimei, his blind eyes faintly glowing with threads of mana.

“You bear the weight of another life… and still, you step forward without a second thought."

Shimei simply sheathed his sword, his expression unreadable.

“Let’s keep moving. This was just the first test.”

The fissure gaped wider, spewing forth molten light. Wolves clawed their way out in an endless surge, their bodies cracking and reforming as if the very highland itself refused to let any intruders take a breath.

What started as twenty had swelled to thirty, and the cliffs reverberated with the grinding roar of stone.

B’shara licked her lips, her blades glistening with black ichor.
“Now this—” she twirled one blade, the air hissing as mana flared around the steel— “is finally fun.”

Her movements shifted. The playful recklessness faded—her stance grew firm, her twin blades crossing with purpose.

A faint shimmer of red traced along her arms, flowing into the hilts. When the next wolf lunged, she spun, her blades carving an X through its body.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to lag behind her motion—then the beast crumpled, split cleanly into four pieces.

“Dual-Blade Flow,” Jett muttered, his eyes narrowing. “She’s serious now.”

B’shara shot him a grin. “Took you long enough to catch on. Your turn, wind-boy.”

The air shifted. Jett closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, his pupils were sharp, hawk-like.

He stepped forward, but it wasn’t just a step—it was a blur, his form lifted by a sudden updraft. Wolves leapt at him, but their jaws snapped at nothing.

Above them, Jett reappeared, his curved blade surrounded by slicing currents.
“Sky Rend.”

He dropped like a falcon, his strike accompanied by a howl of compressed wind. The gale crashed into the pack, sending wolves tumbling like ragdolls. Stone splintered.

Dust filled the air around the cliffs. Three, four wolves lay torn apart, their dark hides shredded as if by unseen talons.

B’shara laughed, spinning her blades as the wind whipped through her hair. “Finally! I was getting tired of having to carry you.”

“Carry?” Jett shot back, already vanishing into another burst of movement, reappearing on the back of a wolf to plunge his blade into its neck. “I’ve taken down more than you’ve even noticed.”

“You’re just good at snagging the last hits.”

Shimei let out a soft breath, watching their playful banter while their blades carved through the swarm with deadly intent.

They weren’t reckless behind the jabs and teasing lay a lethal precision. The two fought like storms—B’shara a wildfire of flashing steel, Jett a hawk diving and striking from above.

Yet, the wolves kept coming. Ilan’s voice sliced through the chaos, calm yet firm: “The leader hasn’t shown itself yet. These are just distractions. The true heart of the den lies beneath the fissure.”

Shimei tightened his grip on Yoshiinune. The faint hum of its flame core resonated within the blade, still waiting to be unleashed. His gaze remained fixed on the glowing crack in the mountain.

“…Then I’ll drag it out.”