Lynx hadn't slept.
Not really.
He lay in bed, heart pounding, mind racing. The voice—the silver-haired woman—kept appearing in flashes behind his eyes. Every time he closed them, he saw that glowing mist, those otherworldly eyes.
And worse, he heard himself.
"To destroy the world."
He sat up, staring at his hand.
Nothing looked different.
Yet everything felt different.
His skin tingled. The silence buzzed around him like a wasp just out of sight.
Downstairs, the sound of Renzou preparing morning tea broke the stillness.
"You're up early," Renzou said without turning around.
Lynx only nodded, grabbed his satchel, and stepped into the chill of morning.
The air at Hanagumo Schoolhouse smelled of ink and plum blossoms.
Students sat beneath the trees, notebooks open across their laps, charcoal sticks tapping and scraping. Ahead of them, the instructor stood before a wide board of sanded wood, eyes scanning the restless crowd.
"Today," he began, "we cover the fundamentals of Shinmei, and the history of its awakening."
Lynx's gaze lifted. Finally.
"Shinmei is not magic," the instructor said. "It is essence. Memory. The breath of all things. But it was not always accessible. Long ago, the world was mundane. Violent. Without balance."
He sketched a crude map with confident strokes: Tenmaku, Yatsukami, Mizugai, and the Ashlands marked in heavy charcoal.
"In the time before Shinmei, wars were constant. Kings ruled by blade alone. The world burned—not from power, but from ignorance."
He paused, letting the silence settle.
"Then came the Rending—an event we still do not fully understand. The sky cracked. The seas wept fire. From that shattered balance, Shinmei emerged."
He tapped the center of the map.
"Those who survived exposure to it gained strange abilities. Some could see spirits. Some healed by thought. Others bent flame, or wood, or steel. But most who touched Shinmei… died."
A breathless stillness fell over the class.
"The few who survived passed that resilience to their children. And so—bloodlines were born."
He began drawing symbols above each region.
"The great clans quickly recognized what they had. Shinmei was power—and power must be preserved. Techniques were codified, hoarded, locked behind rituals and family name. And so the lines were drawn."
A whisper from behind made Lynx flinch.
"That's why people like Lynx don't stand a chance. His family's never had it."
The instructor's gaze sharpened. "That's not entirely true," he said coolly. "In fact, everyone has Shinmei. But only some have been trained to hear it."
He turned back to the board and wrote a single name:
The Twelve Transcendents
"From the greatest bloodlines came beings who mastered Shinmei so fully, they broke the bounds of mortality. Some say they see through time. Others… that they became part of the very essence they once commanded."
The branches above barely stirred. Even the birds seemed to listen.
Lynx lowered his eyes and stared at his hand again.
Classes ended late in the morning. By the stream behind the school, Raiden was already waiting, squatting near the water and flicking stones across the surface.
"You good?" he asked.
"Yeah," Lynx lied.
Raiden raised an eyebrow. "You didn't say anything yesterday after training. That's rare. Usually you're complaining about your bruises."
Lynx chuckled. "Just tired."
They sat in silence, letting the stream babble for them. After a while, Raiden gave a half-smile.
"Remember when we were ten? You tried to break into the Golden Cloud library for those Shinmei scrolls."
Lynx groaned. "Don't remind me. I tripped the alarm and pissed myself."
Raiden laughed hard. "And my uncle made us scrub the courtyard for a month. Still worth it. That was the first time I saw you really want something."
Lynx looked at him. "It still is."
"You've always fought harder than anyone I know," Raiden said. "You just never had the right stage."
Lynx didn't reply.
He didn't have to.
The afternoon sun was already starting to dip by the time history resumed.
The teacher moved slowly, back stiff, voice heavy with old things.
"The rise of the Kingdoms can be traced to Shinmei inheritance," he said. "Tenmaku pursued bloodline purity. Yatsukami embraced primal transformation—beast forms. Mizugai became scholars of water memory. The Ashlands… were said to be cursed by a Transcendent driven mad."
He drew tangled lines across the map, connecting clans and mutations like webbing.
"Each region cultivated its strength. In Tenmaku, noble children are tested at birth for traits—mutations passed through families. Some strengthen muscle. Others see spirits."
"And those born with none?"
The teacher's face remained unreadable.
"Often discarded."
Lynx's stomach twisted.
"Over time, knowledge became a currency. Techniques, scrolls, martial styles—traded like coin, hoarded like gold. This was the true crime of the Shinmei Age. Not the rise of power, but the sealing of its path."
He looked around the room.
"That is why most of you will never awaken Shinmei. Your ancestors did not pass it down. Your blood… forgot."
Lynx clenched his jaw, a memory returning—his hands ink-stained, copying stolen scrolls in the dark, trying to feel what others were born with.
"Some say Shinmei speaks to those who listen in silence," the teacher finished. "Others say it answers only to the chosen. But history shows… it always exacts a price."
By the time class ended, the village was already humming with unease.
On his way through the square, Lynx caught the flicker of gossip.
"That new medicine from the trader? Works like a charm."
"Yeah, but Jin hasn't slept in days."
"I heard someone collapsed near the kiln. Twitching. Foaming at the mouth."
In an alley, a man was shaking violently, eyes glassy and vacant. A merchant nearby muttered about rising demand.
Lynx narrowed his eyes.
Something was spreading.
And it didn't feel natural.
Meiko caught up to him near the riverbend.
"You've been weird lately," she said. "Even weirder than usual."
Lynx didn't argue. Just stared at the current.
"You ever feel like this place is just… sick?" he asked.
"Shizuhara?"
"No. The world. The way things are. Power means you get to rule. Lineage means you get to live better. Everyone else just survives."
She sat beside him, arms wrapped around her knees.
"I get it. I do. But what brought this on?"
"I met someone," he said. "Or dreamed I did. She asked me what I wanted most. And I said…"
He hesitated.
"To destroy the world."
Silence.
"I didn't mean explode it," he added. "Just… break it. The way it works. The way it treats people."
For a moment, Meiko didn't respond.
Lynx looked at her, and his thoughts began to drift.
He had known Meiko longer than anyone.
She was older—by two years—but they'd grown up together since birth. Her mother worked with medicines and herbs, and was one of Renzou's oldest friends. Because of that, Meiko spent more time at Lynx's house than her own, especially after Lynx's mother passed.
When Lynx was six and Meiko was eight, she was already like an older sister—bossing him around, scolding him, even beating him in their scuffles. But she also protected him. Understood him. Lynx's mother had been like an aunt to her, and when she died, Meiko mourned like family.
She was the only person who knew what that loss felt like.
She was also the only one Lynx ever cried in front of.
Raiden might've been his brother in battle, but Meiko… Meiko was the one he turned to when everything else collapsed. That's why he told her what he hadn't told Raiden.
Meiko looked at him, her expression unreadable. Then softer than usual.
"That's not nothing," she said. "But it's not nothing to carry either."
He nodded slowly. "She had silver hair. Said strange things. Called me… a vessel."
Meiko's eyes darkened.
She tilted her head and smiled just a bit. "What, do you think you met some great spiritual being? Some higher power?"
Lynx blinked. "I—"
She leaned forward, voice mock-serious. "Wait. No. Don't tell me. You're not saying you met one of them, are you?"
Lynx stiffened. "No way. That would be crazy, right? I mean, no one's seen or heard from the Transcendents in years. But what if I really—"
Meiko burst out laughing, loud and obnoxious. "Oh my god, Lynx. There's no way you actually believe you met a Transcendent!"
Lynx's face dropped. "I can't believe I even told you about this."
He turned away, pulling his hood up.
She kept laughing. "Sorry, sorry! I just—your face! You looked like you saw a ghost."
"…Maybe I did," Lynx muttered.
She glanced at him again. This time, she didn't laugh."
That night, Lynx stood shirtless before the mirror.
He traced the veins in his arm.
For a moment, they glowed.
A faint green pulse, flickering beneath the skin like fire beneath water.
Then—gone.
He touched his chest. His heartbeat was slow, but deep. Weighty.
He closed his eyes.
And in the dark…
Something whispered his name.
End of Chapter 2