The Fourth Ring

Shinzo and Hiroshi looked up towards the sky, searching for the source of the monstrous sound. Dust drifted from the shattered library ruins around them as silence briefly followed.

Hiroshi exhaled sharply. “no, it can't be a tyrant. that sounded like something different... Something bigger...”

“let me check.” Shinzo reached into his pocket, pulling out a sleek smartphone whose surface glinted faintly beneath layers of ash.

Hiroshi stared at it in disbelief, his eyes narrowing. “Wait... where did you get a smartphone?! weren't those destroyed about two hundred years ago?!”

“the Varkonians have snatched away our technologies. but mine still persist. I am an Engineer. I know about technology like the back of my hand. I can create anything I want.” Shinzo’s voice carried a mix of pride and frustration.

He powered it on, the screen’s glow cutting through the gloom, and initiated a group video call to the continental HRA headquarters.

Within moments, three faces appeared on the screen: Karou from America, Tarique from Europe, and Shunjo—the head of the Asian division, stationed in Japan.

Shinzo leaned forward urgently. “what's happening? did you guys hear that sound? Karou? Tarique? Shunjo?”

At the mention of Shunjo’s name, Hiroshi blinked as a memory resurfaced. “wait... isn't Shunjo your brother?”

“yeah. he's in tokyo now.”

Shunjo’s voice crackled through the device, tense and hurried. “a big explosion occured! the... the rift... it ENLARGED! I am right here! and I guess something is comi—” His voice distorted, glitching into static before the call abruptly dropped.

The screen turned black.

“Gosh darn it! this damn weak network!” Shinzo hissed, shaking the phone.

Hiroshi lifted a brow in shock. “Network?! now where did you get that?”

Shinzo groaned, rubbing his temples. “even though humanity is way behind in technology, we have made exceptions for us. we've made one big network tower in each continent that can provide enough network for transmission of important details. I guess it is having technical issues...”

“Probably...” Hiroshi replied quietly.

Shinzo’s gaze drifted back to the blank screen, his thoughts spiraling. “the rift... Shunjo was right below it... what might have happened there..?”

A crunch of shifting rubble snapped him back to reality.

Hiroshi was moving through the wreckage of the destroyed library, kicking aside shattered stones and splintered wood. The sound echoed in the desolate silence.

“wait... what are you looking for?!” Shinzo called out.

Hiroshi didn’t stop searching. “the book. I know Majuro hid something from me. I've been trying to get my hands on the book since the day he told me about my past. I knew that something didn't make sense. who was my father? who he really was? that's what's making me sleepless for the last few nights. wanna help me out?”

Shinzo froze. A wave of tension surged through him—Hiroshi could not find out the truth. Not yet. Not like this.

He lunged toward a pile of collapsed shelves, heart racing, determined to locate the book before Hiroshi did… and hide it, no matter the cost.

After a full minute of frantic digging, Shinzo finally uncovered it.

Nestled beneath a slab of collapsed stone lay the ancient Varkonian history book—its once-sturdy cover shredded, pages torn apart as if sliced by an immense force. Judging by the deep slashes, it must have taken the brunt of Kurumi’s earlier strike.

Shinzo exhaled in relief. “Phew! Hiroshi! I found it!” Then, forcing sorrow across his face, he added, “but... It... It's badly torn...”

Hiroshi rushed over. He dropped to his knees beside Shinzo, grabbing the ruined fragments with trembling hands. The book was barely a book anymore—more a collection of ripped scraps hanging by threads.

“Argh! Dammit!” Hiroshi growled, frustration bursting out as he saw the state of it.

Shinzo watched the tension tighten across Hiroshi’s expression, but after a moment, it softened. Hiroshi released a slow, defeated breath.

“well, let's go and bury Majuro...”

“alright... Lemme grab my backpack. It must be around somewhere.”

Shinzo reached into the rubble again. His fingers brushed familiar fabric—thankfully untouched. He pulled out the dusty backpack.

“phew... Atleast something is safe.”

He slung it over his shoulders and followed Hiroshi.

They walked to where Majuro’s body lay motionless on the ground. His blood had long since dried, turning dark against the sand. The air around him felt heavier, quieter—saturated with the silence of loss.

For two long minutes, neither of them spoke a single word. They simply stood before the headless body, mourning the fallen mage in solemn stillness.

When the moment had passed, they worked together to dig a grave. Once the pit was deep enough, they gently lowered Majuro inside, ensuring his body rested with dignity. Then they covered him with layers of soil and placed a large stone atop the grave.

Shinzo stepped forward. “let me just do something.”

He knelt beside the stone, pulling a screwdriver from his pocket. Carefully, he etched words into the surface, each stroke steady and deliberate.

When he finished, he read it aloud:

“Here lies the great mage, Majuro. We lost a hero on 15th September...”

He turned to Hiroshi. “shall we go now?”

“yeah...” Hiroshi replied with a sigh.

Shinzo took the cube into his hands, gripping it firmly.

“now, where to?” he asked, looking straight at Hiroshi.

“the Fourth Ring. The next tyrant awaits.”

Shinzo closed his eyes, channeling focus into the cube. Yellow light swirled outward, forming a circular portal that hummed with power. The air rippled around it as space bent into shape.

Together, they stepped forward and crossed through—

leaving Majuro’s grave behind and entering whatever awaited them on the other side.

[Location: The Fourth Ring, North America]

The yellow light of the portal faded behind them as Hiroshi and Shinzo stepped out into the Fourth Ring. Night had settled over the land—still, heavy, and quiet. Not a single soul stirred in the sleeping city that stretched around them.

Towering skyscrapers pierced the darkness, their windows reflecting faint traces of moonlight. Housing societies lined the streets in perfect grids, silent giants watching over the empty roads.

Hiroshi slowly turned in place, taking the alien landscape in. “I don't remember seeing such a place...”

Shinzo replied without hesitation, bitterness coating his words. “the Varkonians didn't just steal our technology. They used it for themselves. Just like how parasites do.”

Hiroshi lifted his gaze to the sky, expecting the same brilliant stars he had grown used to elsewhere. Instead, the heavens were faint, dimmed by an unseen haze.

“what happened to these night skies?” Hiroshi asked, lost in the emptiness of the night.

“this is North America... The major portions like the Ring and some outskirts are highly polluted, hiding the beautiful stars before them. We need to get some night's rest.” Shinzo answered while looking here and there, trying to find a place good enough for a night’s rest.

“but where?” Hiroshi asked with a tired look on his face.

Shinzo scanned the nearby structures until he spotted a narrow alley tucked between two tall buildings—a dark wedge of space closed off at the far end.

Without a word, he led the way. Hiroshi followed, though uncertainty tightened his steps. The alley was pitch black, silent except for their footsteps.

“so... Do we sleep here?” Hiroshi asked with thick sarcasm.

Shinzo rolled his eyes. “don't be silly... You've got an Engineer with you. Presenting to you, the POCKET TENT!”

He dug into his backpack and pulled out a tiny toy tent, no bigger than Hiroshi’s palm.

Hiroshi frowned. “am I supposed to squeeze in it?”

Shinzo’s expression twisted in annoyance. “no, dumbo!”

He pressed a small button on the toy and set it on the ground. With a mechanical whirr, it unfolded—growing rapidly, expanding outward until a full-sized tent stood before them.

Hiroshi leaped back, eyes wide. “WHAT IS THAT?!”

Shinzo stared at him as if offended by the question. “don't you know anything about nanotech? I'm pretty sure it existed while you were a kid.”

Hiroshi shook his head. “the day I was born, the Varkonian invasion had started. I never got to see much technology.”

A soft sigh escaped Shinzo as he lifted the tent’s flap.

Without another word, the two stepped inside.

From the inside, the tent was small, yet surprisingly spacious enough for both of them to stretch out their legs comfortably—almost like sleeping buffalo sprawled in the grass. Two blankets and two soft pillows had been neatly placed inside, ready for rest.

Hiroshi looked around in amazement. “This thing is actually pretty cool.”

Shinzo smirked. “Cool? Let’s actually make it cool.”

He pressed a small button and, instantly, tiny fans embedded in the fabric walls whirred to life, circulating a gentle breeze around them. Another click, and a warm white light filled the interior of the tent. The two boys settled inside with impressed looks.

Hiroshi opened his mouth. “So… what were we going to do now—”

BOOM!

Another thunderous boom echoed through the distance.

Hiroshi flinched. “It’s that again!”

Shinzo’s eyes widened as a realization struck him. “Wait… that sound is coming from the rift. And… the portal cube…” He swallowed. “The last time I used it, just moments later, we heard that same sound. And now, after using it to come here, we heard it again.” His voice tightened. “The portal cube and the rift are linked—Majuro told us that. So the cube is causing it to—”

“—expand in size,” Hiroshi finished sharply. “Yes! That’s exactly it! When the rift opened for the first time two hundred years ago, a similar booming sound was heard across the entire globe.” His jaw clenched. “It’s the portal cube causing it. The more we use it, the more it alters the rift.”

They both stared at the cube as it warbled with unstable yellow energy, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Shinzo exhaled slowly. “We have to stop using it from now on…”

“To be honest,” Hiroshi said softly, “I agree.”

They laid down, settling into the blankets to rest.

After a moment, Shinzo turned his head. “So… how’s your new power-up feeling?”

Hiroshi suddenly sat upright. “Power up? What power up?”

“The mixed flames,” Shinzo said. “The orange and blue ones.”

Hiroshi tried to remember, but nothing came. He raised his palm, summoning a small ember. It flickered into existence—half orange, half blue—radiating a fierce, amplified heat. He waved his hand and it vanished as quickly as it came.

“Holy smokes of the devil,” Hiroshi breathed. “What in the world was that?!”

Shinzo sighed. “Didn’t Majuro tell us you’d gain a power-up once your Sugokyo mark appeared? Your training and… your rage at Majuro’s death probably triggered it... And the blue flames? That means the Blue Lava did its job too.”

Hiroshi frowned, unable to recall anything about the Blue Lava. “What’s with the blue lava again?”

“Well,” Shinzo explained, “while you were unconscious, Majuro made a potion with several powerful ingredients. Blue Lava was one of them. He said you’d be able to accumulate even more fire energy if your body was supplied with it.”

“Hm… maybe.” Hiroshi crossed his arms. “So is my Varkox level even higher now?”

Shinzo pulled out the Varkox meter without hesitation.

“Let’s find out.”

He aimed it at Hiroshi. The device scanned for a moment, beeping softly—then displayed the results.

Shinzo froze. His eyes went wide. His hands began to shake.

“WHAT?! H-HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?!”

Hiroshi blinked. “What happened?”

Still trembling, Shinzo turned his head toward him as if he’d just witnessed the birth of a god.

“S-s-seven hundred thousand…!” he stuttered. “SEVEN. HUNDRED. THOUSAND!”

Hiroshi’s face lit up. “Woah! Seven-hundred?! That’s insane! That’s amazing!”

“Amazing?!” Shinzo nearly jumped. “Hiroshi, a spike like this in such a short amount of time is something that needs deep scientific research! This isn’t amazing, this is—this is monstrous! It’s incredible!”

Hiroshi leaned back, letting out a long sigh toward the ceiling of the tent.

Shinzo spoke again, calmer this time. “Well… with power like this, I guess you can counter the Fourth Tyrant’s ‘Seki’. You’re strong enough now.”

Hiroshi jerked his head toward him, confused. “Seki? What is that—some kind of sword? Or food? Or… what?”

Shinzo slapped a hand over his face in pure frustration. “You don’t know about Seki…?” He groaned, then paused as something clicked in his memory. “Ah—right. I forgot. The Tyrants you fought before weren’t that strong. That’s why they didn’t have Seki.”

He sat back, gathering his thoughts.

“Well, Seki is a technique that only people with Varkox levels above seven-hundred-fifty thousand can use. It has five different variants, each unlocked depending on the user’s Varkox level. Out of all five… honestly, I haven’t seen even one with my own eyes.” A small spark of curiosity flickered in Shinzo’s tone. “So this will be something entirely new for me too. But I do know the basics.”

Hiroshi shifted into a cross-legged position, eyes sharp with full attention. He listened as if Shinzo were revealing secrets of the universe.

“When your Varkox is strong enough,” Shinzo continued, “you can channel your radiation into special abilities. Think of it like… a domain—something shaped by your powers. It gives you environmental advantage, boosts your abilities, messes with your opponent’s balance, all that stuff. It’s not too complicated. You channel your radiation, it forms a domain, and boom—you have the upper hand in battle. Simple.”

Hiroshi nodded slowly. “Alright… basics cleared. We’ll deal with the main course tomorrow morning.”

“So…” Shinzo raised a brow. “Fight tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Hiroshi said calmly. “Fight tomorrow.”

Shinzo turned off the lights, and the interior dimmed into peaceful darkness. The two of them lay down, backs turned to each other, settling into their blankets.

A long, weary sigh escaped Shinzo. “Another fight…”

“I know,” Hiroshi replied gently. “It gets exhausting when every day becomes another battle. But that’s the path we chose. It’s how we win… how we reach our goal.” His voice softened. “Freedom for Earth.”

Shinzo exhaled again, this time with relief. “Well… goodnight. At least we can dream of something good.”

Their breathing gradually slowed, the tension fading from their bodies. The night wrapped around them like a quiet cocoon as they closed their eyes and drifted into a deep, slow sleep.

[A Few Hours Later]

[Sunrise]

The tent remained quiet, both Hiroshi and Shinzo still deep in sleep. But the moment the first beam of sunlight slipped through the fabric and touched Hiroshi’s skin, his body reacted violently. Sweat rolled down his forehead. His fingers twitched. His breathing turned shallow.

And then—his consciousness slipped.

He found himself standing in a dark room.

No… not a room. A void.

A space without walls, without sound, without a single trace of light. A place that felt endless—like the universe had been swallowed whole and only emptiness remained.

Hiroshi stared into the infinite darkness, his heartbeat echoing in the silence. Out of instinct, he called out.

“Hello?! Hello—! Is someone here?”

No response. Just him. Alone.

Then suddenly—

A portal tore open in front of him.

It spun like a vertical spindle, its center glowing in shades of purple and glowing blue, swirling in a haunting rhythm.

From the portal stepped a girl.

Pink flowing hair…

Soft Cherry Blossom eyes…

Fair, gentle skin…

Hiroshi’s breath caught. The name slipped out of his mouth without him even thinking.

“…Ryumi?”

She looked at him as if she had been waiting for him. Her eyes trembled, filled with fear… and desperation.

“Hiroshi!” she cried out, voice breaking. “Save me!”

A figure emerged behind her.

A towering man, clad in a horned barbarian helmet and heavy metal armor. His form was almost shadow-like—no face, no skin, just a dark presence wrapped in steel.

In his hand, he held a massive hammer—its head covered in hundreds of wicked spikes.

Before Hiroshi could react, the hammer swung.

Ryumi screamed.

“HIROSHI!!”

The spiked head slammed into her skull.

Blood splattered.

The void echoed.

Hiroshi jolted awake.

He shot upright in the tent, drenched in sweat, heart racing violently.

“Ryumi!” he gasped. “Ryumi… Ryumi…” His breaths trembled, each inhale shaky and labored.

The sudden eruption of panic snapped Shinzo awake as well. Still half-asleep and confused, he blinked drowsily at Hiroshi.

“You okay, bro…?” he murmured, voice groggy. “I’m kinda tired, so—can you not wake me up like that? I was… having a really wholesome dream…”

Hiroshi didn’t respond immediately. He pushed open the tent flap and peered outside. Soft golden light bathed the alley—sunrise had arrived.

Behind him, Shinzo collapsed back onto his pillow.

“We must go now,” Hiroshi said firmly.

From inside his blanket, Shinzo’s muffled voice replied, “Please… just five more minutes…”

Hiroshi groaned. “Fine. I'm giving you ten minutes. Take a power nap. We’ve got a Tyrant to defeat.” He went out of the tent.

Shinzo gave a tiny victory sigh and snuggled into his pillow again.

Hiroshi stared at the rising sun, jaw tight, heart still pounding from the nightmare. He asked:

“Ryumi… What was that vision..? Where are you, dear...”

To Be Continued…