The Awakening of the Legendary Bond

The silence that followed the explosion of energy was not one of peace—but of complete absorption.

Lyra, still by the altar, felt the ground tremble beneath her feet. It wasn't an earthquake, but a deep resonance, as if the roots of the world had answered the pact just formed. The rocks of the amphitheater quivered faintly, and the air became charged with a mute electricity before silence consumed all.

Arata lay unconscious. Lyra approached cautiously.

The black husk he had held now bore a fissure from top to bottom, as if the pressure within had reached its limit. And yet, the boy was unharmed—still clutching the fragment in his hand. Lyra knelt and gently pulled him into her arms, resting his head on her lap. She waited.

When Arata opened his eyes, Lyra let out a small gasp.

They were no longer human eyes.

His irises spun like vortices of cosmic indigo and violet, and his pupils were slits of darkness laced with specks of silver and gold. The forest light shimmered in them as if reflecting a plane beyond mortal sight.

"What... what happened?" Arata murmured, still dazed.

Lyra stared at him in awe. "Your eyes... have changed."

Arata touched his face, confused. He remembered the pressure—the darkness.

"When I touched the husk... I felt like the world was crushing me. Then I woke up in a strange place. I saw a colossal eye... I heard its voice. It called itself Ten'ryuu. A dragon. Its body was sealed."

Lyra listened intently. Such pacts were unheard of.

What he described was a bond forged beyond the physical realm.

"A dragon..." she whispered. "One of the fourteen legendary beasts. You've made a pact, Arata."

He repeated the word, still unsure of its full meaning.

"A pact...? What does that mean?"

"It means you now have a Familiar. But in a... unique way. Show me your mark."

"My... mark?"

Without waiting for a reply, Lyra unfastened his shirt. As it slipped down, it revealed a vast black seal on his back.

At its center, an abyssal eye seemed to stare outward.

Above it, a dragon wreathed in shadowy flames rose, crowned with curved horns, surrounded by spiraling filigree that glowed like constellations.

Lyra held her breath. She had never seen something so intricate—nor so immense. She traced it with a fingertip; latent energy thrummed beneath her touch.

"This isn't normal. It's... legendary."

Arata tried to see it, but couldn't. Lyra helped him dress again, her expression now solemn.

"We must go. I'll take you to the village. Now."

---

The journey felt different. Arata's body no longer ached.

He felt strangely light, as if the weight of the world now suited him.

They walked hidden paths—tunnels of branches, underground rivers murmuring below their feet.

At last, they reached Komorebi-no-Mura.

The elven village seemed fused with nature itself.

Homes carved into trees were connected by vine bridges.

Crystal-clear streams crossed mossy gardens and ancient stone altars.

The air smelled of pine and wildflowers.

The elves looked at him with wary eyes. Many had never seen a human before.

Whispers followed him: "Short ears," "The outsider."

Not in malice—just wonder.

Lyra brought him before Satoru, the elder leader.

His skin was weathered by centuries, his eyes deep with ancient wisdom.

When he saw Arata, he sensed the slumbering power within him.

"Welcome, young human," he said in a calm voice.

Satoru agreed to guide him—but differently.

Elves, in harmony with nature, rarely formed pacts.

But Arata's power came not from the land—but from an overwhelming Pressure.

Satoru would teach him not to control it as an outside force—but as an extension of himself.

In the village, Arata met Mia, a young Faunir girl with rabbit ears and a fluffy tail.

She looked about eight, with messy brown hair and eyes full of curiosity.

She had always felt out of place among the elves... until Arata came.

Another outsider. Another weirdo.

He also met Mumen, a serious and traditionalist elf.

He mistrusted the human boy and watched him with a critical gaze, fearing what power might awaken in him.

Every day, Arata trained with Satoru—learning to sense the pressure within matter:

The weight of rocks. The density of water.

Day by day, he struggled to control his newfound affinity.

One day, frustrated by his slow progress, he focused with all his strength.

He remembered Satoru's words:

"Feel the weight. Don't move it. Be the weight."

Then, something shifted.

A deep hum rose from his body.

Stones trembled.

The air vibrated intensely.

The pressure became tangible.

Rocks began pulling toward him—not flying, but falling.

He couldn't dodge. The stones clung to his body, piece by piece, forming a rough armor—

A raw manifestation of his power.

As if gravity had claimed him as its core.

The final impact knocked him out cold.

---

Lyra and Mia, out gathering herbs, heard the crash.

They ran to the clearing.

They found him collapsed, covered in a rocky shell—unrecognizable.

"Arata!" Mia cried, but Lyra stopped her.

"Wait."

Lyra struck the armor with her spear. Nothing. Not a crack.

Even the roots of Niralveht couldn't pierce it, repelled by the sheer density.

Arata's bond with Pressure had manifested… and it could no longer be hidden.

Arata spent the night collapsed and unconscious, protected by his own uncontrollable creation.

The armor of stone, born from the power of Ten'ryuu, stood like a primal, imposing shell around him. Mia hadn't left his side. Her small rabbit-like eyes shimmered with tears as she nervously rubbed her paws over the boy's chest, as if that simple gesture might wake him up. Just a few steps away, Lyra stood guard in silence, bow ever ready, her gaze fixed on the darkened horizon of the forest.

When the first ray of sunlight broke through the canopy, painting the morning mist with gold, the armor began to dissolve on its own. It didn't shatter with violence, but crumbled quietly into fine dust, rising with the breeze like the ashes of a heavy dream.

Arata opened his eyes.

At first, there was only confusion. His mind foggy, memories tangled like loose threads. He tried to move. His body ached, yet bore no wounds. Slowly, he sat up, touching his arms, his chest, his face.

Unharmed.

Only the exhaustion clung to his limbs like chains.

The silence of the morning wrapped around him—not empty, but solemn. As if the forest itself held its breath, unwilling to interrupt something sacred.

He had changed.

The power of Ten'ryuu was not merely an external force granted to him. It was a presence that now echoed from the depths of his being. An invisible gravity that didn't just pull at the world around him... but tugged at his very soul.

—"This power..." —he murmured, without realizing.

It was not something he could control. Not yet. But it was there.

Wild. Alive. Pulsing.

A new path had opened before him.

One shaped by the invisible pressure of a fate he was only beginning to understand.