The Awakening of the Arcanum

The light around Yahiko flickered. Before he could even understand, he found himself transported elsewhere.

A gentle breeze brushed his face, contrasting with the biting cold he had just left. When he opened his eyes, he discovered himself sitting at the edge of a river. Around him, the grass exhaled a delicate fragrance, while a few butterflies and birds animated this scene with an almost unreal brilliance.

The river, illuminated from within, seemed alive. Each ripple captured the reflections of thousands of stars, as if the entire sky had poured itself into it.

It took him a few moments to get used to the soft yet vivid light of the place.

Staring at the luminescent current, Yahiko was stunned. He saw shards of light transform into fleeting images: his sister, radiant, giving him a comforting smile; an unknown silhouette reaching out a friendly hand to him; a fierce battle against a massive, indistinct shadow. These visions kept sliding by, elusive, as if they whispered possible futures or drew paths he had not yet dared to explore.

Yahiko looked away and observed the landscape. All around him, trees with silver trunks soared toward the sky, their bluish leaves emitting a soothing glow. Their intertwined branches formed a living vault, casting a soft glow on the ground covered in dense, fragrant grass.

Suddenly, behind him, he heard soft footsteps, barely perceptible, muffled by the grass. Calm, almost solemn, they slowly drew closer. An old man then appeared at his side and sat down next to him without a word.

The man wore a long gray robe, simple and without ornament. The fabric, though worn and dull like an old cloth, was impeccably clean, evoking a discreet and ancient dignity. His silver beard reached almost down to his waist. His eyes, a piercing but infinitely kind blue, seemed to probe directly into Yahiko's soul.

He gave him a silent smile, and without a word exchanged, Yahiko immediately felt a strange sense of security wash over him, as if the simple presence of this old man was enough to soothe his entire being.

— So here you are again, young man, he said in a deep, resonant voice.

Yahiko, too absorbed by the scenery, didn't even react to the "again."

— I suppose you have many questions… like all those who, like you, reach this domain. Before explaining anything to you, know this: here, time does not exist. An hour, a day, or even years mean nothing in this space. Do not worry about your friend Mata, about your family or your village… time here has no hold. You will return exactly at the moment your choice is made.

Yahiko drank in the old man's words. Little by little, all his anger, his rage, his sadness seemed to evaporate. He still had fears, anxiety, but the old man's gaze swept all that away, like a gentle wind dissipating a thick fog.

Seeing Yahiko's gaze calm, the man spoke again softly:

— Good. Here, we are in the Arcanum, a place where only awakened souls can enter.

He paused, his gaze lost in the river's reflections. A shadow of sadness passed over his face.

— Unfortunately, your coming to this world is, once again, too early. You are not ready. Urgency tore you from your world, but you do not yet control this power that slumbers within you.

This time, Yahiko immediately caught the meaning.

— What do you mean by "once again"?

The old man looked at him for a long time and slowly stroked his beard, as if weighing each word with infinite gravity, then finally replied:

— We have already met, my boy. You were too young to remember… but you have already come here. That day, your sister was in great danger. Your power awakened, in a prodigious way, and it led you to me… far too soon.

Silence settled again.

Then the old man continued, in a graver voice:

— Know that no soul, since the dawn of time, has ever accomplished such a feat… except perhaps… "that person."

Suddenly, his voice almost vanished, as if carried away by the river's breath. Yahiko thought he saw, for the span of a heartbeat, a black, deep, abyssal anger cross the old man's gaze. Then, in the blink of an eye, that darkness disappeared, replaced by his usual gentleness and wisdom.

The old man's words echoed in Yahiko's mind. The pieces of a long-incomplete puzzle finally began to come together.

He remembered. That fateful day when Fumi had almost drowned. He recalled screaming, crying, completely powerless… Then, a few seconds or minutes later, they had both found themselves lying on the bank, soaked, frozen, but alive. He had never understood what had happened that day. Since then, this strange power had awakened in him, without explanation, like a silent enigma.

Now, everything suddenly seemed clearer.

But another, darker thought came to trouble this revelation.

"That person…"

Yahiko abruptly raised his eyes to the old man, his heart pounding.

— Who… who is that person? he asked in a trembling voice, both curious and terrified.

The old man remained silent, his gaze lost in the starry river. A fleeting shadow passed through his eyes, like a veil too heavy to lift.

— You are not yet ready to hear their name, he finally murmured, his voice gentle but unyielding.

These words echoed in Yahiko's mind like a sinister echo. A dull thump hammered his chest, his breath caught for a moment. A cold, almost painful shiver ran down his spine, forcing him to clench his fists.

Wanting to mask his discomfort, Yahiko preferred to change the subject and asked the old man what exactly this place was.

This time, the man answered him without hesitation, almost immediately.

— This place is a part of you, he explained. In this river flow reflections of what you could become. But being here too soon can break your balance.

He paused, then, with a slow gesture, pointed to the river.

— Look at the river. Each choice draws a line. A line that can calm the current… or destroy it.

Yahiko lowered his eyes. On the shimmering surface, familiar faces appeared: his sister, his mother, Mata… Then, other faces he didn't recognize, strangers, but who seemed important. He also saw titanic battles, as well as moments of deep joy.

He clenched his fists, his gaze trembling.

— I can't just stand by… I can't fail… I have to save them, he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The old man remained silent for a moment, before continuing, his tone grave.

— Your power is shaped by each decision, in this world as in yours. You can create something unique, something that belongs only to you… But every choice has a price.

— A price? repeated Yahiko, breathless.

— Yes. Every power demands a balance. At this moment, your power still surpasses you. The more you use it, the more it will consume you.

He paused again, his gaze returning to the river.

— Know that if you choose to shape your power now, and use it to save your friend and your village… you will pay a terrible price.

His voice grew softer, but implacable.

— You will sacrifice almost all of this nascent strength, to the point of risking losing it forever… or simply losing your life. If you make this choice now, when you return to your world, there might be nothing left… or only a faint trace, so small that you will have to rebuild everything, at the cost of sufferings you can't yet imagine.

Yahiko said nothing. He stared straight ahead, silent. The old man then placed a friendly hand on his shoulder and said, in a gentle voice:

— Take all the time you need to think. If you truly want to save your friends and family with this power, also meditate on what you truly want it to be. Don't forget… here, time does not exist. You can grant yourself as many moments as necessary. When your decision is made, I will return to you.

At these words, he slowly stood up, groaning slightly like an old grandfather, holding his back. He mumbled a few incomprehensible words into his beard, took a few steps behind Yahiko, and began to evaporate, his body slowly dissolving into the air.

But before he had completely disappeared, Yahiko suddenly stood up, his voice breaking the silence:

— My decision is already made! It was made long before I came here! There's no need to think any longer… I have to save them!

The old man immediately stopped. His misty silhouette stabilized, and he regained his solid appearance. He turned toward Yahiko, an amused glint in his eyes.

— Oh!

At that moment, five luminous cubes burst from the river. They rose slowly and positioned themselves above Yahiko. He looked up, fascinated. On each face of the cubes, strange symbols appeared, shimmering like living stars.

Around them, the light from the trees vibrated, pulsing with a mysterious energy. The cubes, almost alive, seemed to murmur a silent melody. Yahiko felt their energy seep into him, running through every fiber of his being.

— Interesting… truly very interesting… murmured the old man, almost to himself.

A deep silence settled. Then he continued, more calmly, but with a new intensity:

— So your choice is made.

The cubes then slowly descended, sinking into Yahiko's chest. A burning warmth suddenly radiated in his veins, a wild shiver shook his entire body. He widened his eyes, breathless, feeling each fragment of energy fuse with his soul like a lightning bolt striking through him.

— What does this mean? he asked, his voice trembling.

The old man gave a slight smile, filled with both pride and melancholy.

— You'll understand soon… My boy, I sincerely hope to see you again one day… the day you're truly ready. It had been an eternity since I last met a case as fascinating as yours.

Then, suddenly, a gentle wind rose, sweeping away the luminous particles and the surrounding warmth. The landscape gradually faded. A thick darkness engulfed everything, and the biting cold returned to envelop him.

Yahiko suddenly regained consciousness. The icy air whipped his face, brutally bringing him back to reality.

In front of him, the Yokaï was raising its foot, ready to crush Mata's head.

Without thinking, Yahiko raised a hand. A raw energy burst from his body, enveloping him entirely. This aura radiated from him with a fierce intensity, lighting up the night like a white fire. Then, suddenly, it detached, separating from his body to float at his right.

This formless mass undulated calmly at first, almost peaceful. But when Yahiko violently clenched his fist, the energy began to boil, to surge in all directions like a furious beast.

Little by little, it started to shape from top to bottom: dark horns, a sinister face, a massive torso built for combat and destruction. A misty shadow enveloped the form, before suddenly exploding into black jets projected all around.

When the veil of shadow dissipated, a terrifying silhouette appeared.

A perfect double of the Yokaï, just as frightening. Above this creature, a luminous counter flickered: "100%."

The original Yokaï, frozen, had already stopped his foot, too intrigued by this unexpected apparition.

— What… is this? he growled, incredulous, eyes wide.

Yahiko, in a trance-like state, his eyes shining with a new intensity, murmured in an oddly calm voice:

— Slash.

The shadow raised an arm, and a wave of energy burst forth, identical to the one the demon had used against the Guardians.

The counter immediately dropped: "95%."

The attack struck the Yokaï's leg, violently throwing him backward. A gaping gash slashed across his leg, revealing bone beneath the flesh.

Mata, barely conscious, stared at Yahiko, his face twisted in stupefaction.

— You… did that? he stammered, his voice fading.

The Yokaï roared, mad with rage.

— Where did you come from, kid?!

Yahiko clenched his fists, his gaze burning with icy determination.

— Come, demon