Vescrutia: Legacy

A week had passed since the chaos and crimson tide of Taka no Kami. A week since Jao, Number 5 of the Denkoushi, had cut down Iwa Owaki, the heir apparent, with Ains' legendary blade. He had escaped the collapsing island aboard an Owaki transport, guiding a fleet of freed Shi prisoners towards the sanctuary of Basilk Valley, the hidden heart of the Denkoushi. His body, pushed beyond its limits by the unpredictable surge of power – the devouring of Iwa's soul, the absorption of Subjugation's essence, the terrifying evolution of his Endless Art – had finally surrendered, leaving him adrift between dimensions before the familiar, dense spiritual energy of the Valley pulled him back.

Typically, a member of the Flonne clan, whose hands wove healing tapestries with effortless grace, would tend to his recovery. But the sheer, uncontained power radiating off Jao, the tempest within his spiritual core, had necessitated a different kind of physician. He had been brought directly before the most powerful members of the clan, the architects of the Denkoushi themselves: Number 1, Yin, his grandfather, and Number 2, Yang, his father.

Yin knelt beside the cot, his hands softly aglow with naten, the healing energy flowing with focused intensity. His face, a landscape mapped by time and profound wisdom, was etched with meticulous concentration and a profound, unsettling unease. He had closed the savage physical wounds with remarkable speed, but what lay beneath the skin… the spiritual configuration, the very landscape of Jao’s inner being, was alien, horrifyingly vast. His fingers hovered over the place he’d set a powerful seal on Jao before his departure – a ward designed to contain the dangerous energies Jao inherently possessed, to tether him securely to the ‘safe’ side of existence, away from the hungry void of the Nether Serpent.

“Something’s… changed,” Yin murmured, his voice barely a breath, as his glowing hands charted the subtle, terrifying contours of that inner energy. The seal was gone. Utterly vanished. By all reckoning, the nether serpent should have devoured him whole the moment the seal failed. Yet… here Jao was, a presence in the room that felt like a physical weight, a silent, expanding force that pressed against the very air.

Yang scoffed, the sound like dry stones grinding together, a low rumble from where he leaned against a darkened pillar, arms crossed, his deep-set eyes narrowed in a perpetual, watchful grimace. “How could he have been so foolish as to appear here without his mask? I thought you said he understood the necessity of those glasses.” The natech mask was their fragile anchor, a constant reminder of the tightrope Jao walked between being and utter ification.

Yin didn’t lift his gaze, his focus absolute. “Mind yourself, Yang. Besides… the natech was never intended as a permanent solution. We always knew there was a chance he might eventually outgrow its constraints. But this… this is beyond anything either of us—or Eridan-could have anticipated.” He paused, his naten-laced touch probing deeper into Jao’s core, tasting the raw, untamed power. “He hasn’t merely found the Ring… he’s also found Ains’ blade, the Black Dragon Fang. The sheer power radiating from him… it’s far more than a Denkoushi should gain from simply absorbing a powerful soul like Iwa Owaki’s. This isn’t just absorption; it’s something else entirely.”

“It must be connected to this.” Yang pushed off the pillar, moving towards the small, low table where the Subjugation ring lay. He picked it up, turning the ancient stone between his fingers. They had all believed this ring of power, a relic of immense significance, was lost to history. That Jao had recovered it was, undeniably, a legendary feat, a tale for bards if he had lived to tell it. Yet, as Yang held it, he felt nothing. No hum of power, no resonant frequency, no discernible presence. It felt, inexplicably, like just a stone.

“The stone… its power is inert,” Yin confirmed, his attention still fixed on Jao. His brow furrowed deeper. “But that still doesn’t explain…”

Just then, Jao stirred. Slowly, his eyelids fluttered, then creaked open. At the barest hint of the irises beneath, whirlpools of darkness and shimmering void, Yang instinctively squeezed his own eyes shut, a reflex honed by years of ingrained caution and the sheer, unadulterated danger Jao represented when his containment failed. Yin, however, met the gaze directly, his expression a complex blend of apprehension and gentle welcome. He carefully helped Jao sit up, his steady hands supporting his back, grounding him.

“Yin-dono… Fa… Yang-sama,” Jao rasped, his voice rough with disuse. A lingering haze of disorientation softened his features, making the terrifying depths of his eyes momentarily seem less acute.

“Welcome home, Jao,” Yin said, his hand patting Jao’s back – a physical, grounding affirmation of his return to the fold of the living, the contained.

“Number 5.” Yang’s voice, deep enough to carve lines into stone, settled heavily in the air. Yet, subtly, it lacked the absolute, petrifying dominion it usually held over Jao. Yang opened his eyes, but his gaze remained fixed on the wall just beside Jao, not settling directly on him. The ingrained fear, the caution, was too deep. “Where is your mask? What if you had… lost control? What if you’d killed someone?”

Yang’s words injected an immediate, familiar tension into the chamber, thick with unspoken history, strict expectation, and the heavy weight of past failure. It was the script they had lived by for years. And what Jao said next did nothing to diffuse it; instead, it shattered the known reality entirely.

“I don’t need them anymore,” he stated, raising a hand, slowly rolling his neck around. His body felt strange, a touch lethargic from the recovery, yet paradoxically energized, not sore. A coiled, immense power thrummed just beneath his skin; he felt capable of punching a hole through solid metal—Shatter mountains with a thought.

Yin’s hand on his back stiffened instantly, his body tensing so abruptly he might have been carved from stone. “What in the name of the Great Above do you mean you don’t need them anymore?” Yang's voice was tight, a raw mixture of concern bordering on fear, and rising anger at the perceived recklessness or delusion.

“I… have mastered my Endless Art,” Jao said, his voice gaining strength, clearing, imbued now with an undeniable, quiet certainty that cut through Yin’s apprehension. “The Dankestu Mugen is mine to control.”
Yin and Yang both froze, utterly still, a wave of shock and utter confusion washing over their faces, stripping away the carefully constructed masks of wisdom and sternness. Yin was the first to move, rising slowly, stepping back slightly, his brows wide, searching Jao’s voice for any sign of madness or deception. “How is that even possible? … it would require using the Subjugation ring, at the very least, as a catalyst to achieve that, yet the stone is dead. But even then… the mastery of the Dankestu Mugen, yours in particular, is considered near impossible… a theoretical apex that shouldn’t be reachable…”

Jao looked from his grandfather to his father, his expression calm, assertive, free of arrogance or deception, simply stating the impossible truth. “The ring was nothing more than a vessel… a catalyst for the true prize. The Djinn bound within it.”

Yin and Yang stared, bewildered. A Djinn? Within Subjugation? The legends surrounding the Ring spoke only of raw, subjugating power, never of a sentient entity trapped within its core.

“I devoured Chikara,” Jao continued, the name foreign yet resonating in the air with the echo of ancient, immense power, a name from before the world they knew was fully formed, “and thus the ring’s power became my own. It… suffused itself with the Nether Serpent,” he explained, gesturing faintly towards his own eyes, where the dark depths now shimmered with something new, something terrifyingly stable, “causing them to undergo a… metamorphosis. A transformation.”

Silence fell, heavy and absolute, broken only by the faint, distant sounds of the hidden valley surrounding their sanctuary, devoured a Djinn? Woven its power with the curse meant to eat him? It was madness. It defied every known law of their existence, every principle of naten and natech, creation and void.

Yang’s eyes were wide now, fixed directly on Jao’s face for the first time since he had woken. He took a step, then another, sauntering across the room until he stood directly before his son. For perhaps the first time since the boy’s birth, Yang looked Jao squarely in the eyes, into the transformed depths that should have annihilated his soul.

The gaze was long, searching, the inherent tension between them palpable – years of distance, stern expectation, and perceived failure hanging heavy in the air. Yang’s look, usually a stark, unyielding judgment, now held a raw, scrutinizing intensity, like a sovereign demanding irrefutable proof of loyalty, of a miracle. And yet… as the seconds stretched, and Jao remained whole, solid, not dissolving under the weight of the forces within him or the dread Yang had carried for so long, a faint, disbelieving smile finally broke through Yang’s perpetual grimace, cracking the stone of his expression.

“Well, shit…” Yang breathed out, shaking his head slightly, the deep timbre of his voice now layered with utter astonishment, a profound, unexpected relief he would never name. “You’ve… you’ve actually done it…”

At the sound of those words, Jao’s expression softened instantly. A hitched breath he hadn’t realized he was holding left his lungs in a quiet, almost silent whoosh. That… that was the closest thing to a plain compliment, an acknowledgment of terrifying, impossible success, his father had ever given him. It was a cornerstone laid in the rubble of shattered expectations.

Yin cleared his throat, collecting himself with a deliberate, almost ritualistic movement. He walked towards a low table in the corner, where a tea set was laid out, a small, grounding return to normalcy in the face of the impossible. He began preparing the tea with practiced, familiar movements, the gentle clinking of porcelain a counterpoint to the monumental silence that had just passed. “Tell us everything that happened, Jao.” He hasn’t looked at Jao directly yet, giving his grandson space and giving himself a moment to process. “Come,” Yin said, gesturing them over to the table, the steam from the brewing tea rising like a soft invitation, “let’s discuss this properly. From the beginning.”

Jao nodded, pushing himself fully upright from the cot, his body moving with a new, effortless power. As he stood, the small, black snake, Kuro, coiled unseen around his leg beneath the blankets, slithered effortlessly up his body, settling comfortably around his neck, its tiny head resting near Jao’s cheek. He walked towards the table, Yin on one side, Yang on the other, two pillars of power flanking the unpredictable force their bloodline had unleashed. The tea waited, a silent witness, as Jao prepared to recount the impossible events that had rewritten the limits of his power, his destiny, and perhaps, the future of the Denkoushi.

As Jao sat down his gaze could help but shy across Yang. There was so much to unpack here, he wasn't even sure where to start, or how his father might react once he told him of what...and who he had seen in the Owaki farm. Yang had his own nerves bundled up, they had never spoken on such...mutual ground before. He had to lean on Jao exceptionally hard in order to press him into the kind of shinobi that could survive the lands of Edo. It wasn't that he saw no merit in Yin's more lenient ways, but Jao growing up couldn't be risked with such leisure. He wondered...if his child understood and ven though there was part of him that wanted to say this. Yang himself did not feel it was the time. The two of them sheepishly exchanged glances before Yin finished pouring their tea. His seasoned senses able to discern the awkwardness between father and son.

Yin completed the pouring, sliding a cup towards Jao and another towards Yang before taking his own. He gestured with a slight incline of his head, inviting Jao to begin.

"Why don't we start with where you went after you left home?" Yin's voice was calm, the softness of the tea ritual belying the gravity of the conversation.

Jao picked up his cup, the ceramic warm between his hands. He took a slow, deliberate sip, the steam rising to momentarily obscure his face. "As per your recommendation, Yin-dono," he began, setting the cup down, his gaze steady, "I set my sights on Zaria. But I felt it would be foolish to return blindly." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "So I instead contacted the Shrouds, our spy network, and had them scout for information concerning the rumor you mentioned."

Yin nodded, a small, knowing smile touching his lips.

Jao continued, "The lead led to Randobura, and the Daimyo. It was Lady Rhea, the Shroud leader who was that contact."

Yin's smile widened slightly. "Rhea, you say? Ha... yes, of course." He chuckled softly, a sound like dry leaves rustling.

"She sent her regards, by the way," Jao added, a faint smile mirroring his grandfather's. "Says for you not to let the cherry blossoms die out before visiting an old friend."

Yin's expression softened further. "I see..." He lifted his cup, his attention distant for a moment as he sipped, remembering the tumultuous early days where Lady Rhea, then a young, fierce leader of a nascent information network, had provided critical aid that helped the Shi in their desperate rebellion against the entrenched Great Shinobi families who enforced the slave trade. The memory seemed to linger in the steam of his tea.

Yang, less prone to nostalgia and more focused on the practicalities, leaned forward slightly. "What then?" he prompted, his voice a low rumble.

Jao straightened, the lighter tone vanishing. "Dominance had been overrun by a group of bandits when I infiltrated the temple. I found not mere bandits... but an exiled Owaki heir, Sozen Owaki."

Yang's eyes narrowed instantly, his body tensing. Yin's face, though, remained stoic, solid as carved stone, though his eyes held a sharp, intelligent glint.

"Sozen, the second-born son," Yin mused aloud, his voice calm despite the name. "He was the reason our operation liberating the Shi of his farm was successful. But why would he hide out in our old home and parade himself to be a Shi?"

"Despite the majority of us being slaves, the root of that system is built on fear of the Shi," Jao explained, the bitter truth in his tone. "Our name, especially the name of a group of free Shi, is enough to make others think twice. That wasn't all, when I arrived, he not only had a group of Sunless with him... but... there was one that... was different than the others."

Jao's breath became labored, the weight of what he witnessed pressing down on him. He unclenched his fists under the table before continuing.

Yang, sensing his son's struggle, his own curiosity overcoming his initial wariness. "Different how?"

Jao took another breath, gathering himself. "It was... the former number 6... or at least what was left of him." The words were heavy as stones. "Sozen had a... manufactured form of Subjugation. The ring gave him a semblance of the real thing, allowing him to control the Sunless around him nearly as effectively as the real ring."

Yin set his cup down slowly. "And yet it had no effect on you?"

Jao managed a fleeting, almost defiant smile, a hint of the power he now wielded flashing in his eyes. "Heh, please, grandfather. It was a novelty, a type of natech to create and emulate it, gripping the mind of those who had the blood, but against the Djynn of chaos itself, it held no power."

Yang's brow furrowed, comprehension dawning, but also concern. "Aphosis. Protected you?"

"I wouldn't go that far, if it wasn't for Yin's seal and the natech shades the bastard would've eaten me sparing not a second thought." Jao clarified, his expression turning serious again. "More like because the power of the rings comes from the djynn's themselves. So without the power source I was really up against an idea, or even an echo. When I consumed Chikara, I became aware that the others Djynn once were a part of Aphosis...I think being the bearer grants me... certain resistances, possibly immunities to the influxes of the other Djynn. But until I go against the power of a real ring, it's speculation."

A heavy silence fell over the table. Yin's face tightened, the control he usually exerted over his emotions wavering. "So then the rumors were true... the Owaki not only were trading the Shi as slaves but conducting cursed experiments on them." His grip on his teacup tightened, his knuckles turning white with the force of it.

Jao nodded grimly. "The ring had... disastrous side effects, turning them all into mindless meat sacks... I..." He hesitated, the memory raw. "I... freed them from their suffering, along with every Owaki with him. Sozen pleaded for the chance to avenge his actions, claiming he could not bring himself to slay the Sunless with him. He offered to help me inflitrate Taka no Kami"

"That or he needed the protection," Yang stated flatly, his initial instinct confirmed. "No other reason to mask himself as Shi. The fact that you even believed him"

"It was a gamble I had to risk, this war isn't going to be won playing itself, and treating me like a rabid mutt isn't going to keep the darkness at bay. I had to do what needed to be down."

Yang sneered, Yin placed a hand on Jao's shoulder, grounding him urging him to continue.

"It was then," Jao continued, shifting the focus, "I felt a pull before the vault in the heart of Dominance." He gestured vaguely towards the deeper parts of the temple. "Inside is where I found its hidden fortune, which I see you all have been enjoying." He took note of the new, finer cups on the table, the richer pattern of the rug beneath their feet, and the subtle but expensive upgrades to the flashier weapons Yang now brandished on his person.

Yin allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk."That must have been where you also found the Black Dragon Fang. The sword of the mad serpent lord."

"It was as if it was calling me..." Jao's voice was low, almost reverent. "To find out it was not just a blade, but within it the very soul of the fabled Black Dragon of Edo, the Blighted Void Pyre. Though... the dragon soul within the blade refuses to acknowledge me. Kuroi Ryu, its true name."

"Yet it assisted you in taking down Iwa... why?" Yin pressed, his gaze sharp, sensing there was more to the story.

Jao visibly tensed. Yang's brow furrowed, a mix of curiosity and wary anticipation in his eyes.

"Before I continue... father." Jao turned his full attention to Yang.

Yang's posture stiffened slightly. "Spit it out."

"Not before you promise me that you will not do something we might all regret." Jao's voice was firm, unwavering.

Yang bristled slightly. "Who do you think I am?"

"One of the strongest Shi alive and an invaluable asset to our family, to our mission," Jao returned immediately, acknowledging his father's strength and importance. "I need to know..."

"Shinobi tenet;" Yang cut in, reciting the familiar creed, his voice hard."Shinobi must sever themselves from emotions. To kill the ego..."

"Father..." Jao pleaded, his voice softening slightly, emphasizing the familial bond over the creed in this moment. "Promise me."

Yang held his son's gaze for a long moment, the conflict warring on his face. The instinct for immediate, decisive action, honed by a lifetime of combat and the rigid discipline of the Shinobi path, clashed with the implicit trust Jao was asking for, and the binding nature of a promise given to him, his son, in front of his father. He sighed heavily, the sound like wind through a canyon. "You've become insufferable, you know that?" Despite the words, there was a grudging respect in his tone. "Fine," he relented, his voice low and serious. "I promise..."

Yang looked Jao directly in the eye, his gaze steady and absolute. The promise was given, a weighty, unbreakable vow hung in the air between them. The truth Jao was about to reveal, whatever it was, was significant enough to require restraining even Yang's formidable will. The tea grew cool in their cups, forgotten for the moment as the heavy silence returned, waiting for Jao to speak again.

"I know the truth about my mother. About the Yaarou blood that courses through me."

Silence descended, thick and heavy as the humid summer air outside. The light, almost pleasant awkwardness from moments before evaporated, replaced by a stark, visceral tension. Jao's words hung in the air, stripped bare of any preamble or softening. He hadn't asked the question, he had stated the fact.

Yang's carefully cultivated composure shattered like ice under a hammer's blow. His knuckles, previously cupped around his empty tea cup, turned white as they clenched into fists on the low table. His breath hitched, a sharp, strangled sound. The disciplined mask of the shinobi, the stern face of the father, twisted with a raw emotion Jao had never seen so exposed. It wasn't just anger; it was shock, betrayal, and perhaps, a flicker of terrifying fear. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto Jao's, burning with a silent interrogation.

Yin, on the other hand, remained outwardly calm. His grip on his teacup tightened slightly, but his face, weathered and lined, held a sorrowful understanding. He didn't look surprised, merely pained. It was as if he had been bracing himself for this moment for years. He "glanced" from Jao to Yang, a silent plea in his spirit directed at his son. [Remember.]

Jao held his father's gaze, his own heart hammering against his ribs. The somber sip of tea had done little to steel him for this particular onslaught. But having spoken the words, the weight lifted slightly, replaced by a fragile, defiant resolve. He had seen horrors in that farm, seen what the Owaki did, and the truth, however painful, was less corrosive than the constant, nagging doubt.

Yang’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw working. Every muscle in his body seemed coiled, ready to spring. Jao braced himself, expecting the storm, the fury, the questions he wasn't sure he could answer sufficiently. But then, Yang's eyes flickered to Yin, a silent communication passing between them, and the tension eased, minutely. Yang took a shaky breath, forcing control back into his features, a monumental effort Jao could almost see him undertaking. His voice, when he finally spoke, was tight, strained, but devoid of the immediate wrath Jao had anticipated.

"You promised," Yang rasped, the words directed at himself as much as anyone. He wasn't speaking to Jao; he was reminding himself of the vow he had just made, the vow that now shackled his instinctual, protective, potentially violent reaction. He looked back at Jao, his expression still intense, but now etched with a different kind of pain.

"How?" Yang finally managed, his voice low, a dangerous tremor beneath the surface. "How did you find out?"

"Sozen himself told me... her handmaid had been paid off by the Owaki serving as their eyes in the Yaarou compound. The night I was born, it was thought I had... had suffered greatly from the Dankestu, that it had taken her from this life. After you escaped with me, the maid gave mother's body to the Owaki..."

Jao steadied his breathing; he knew this couldn't be easy for Yang to hear.

"I... I thought she... you had..."

Yang struggled to get his words out. The grief, a wound that never truly healed, tore through his forced calm.

"My birth wounded her greatly... the Dankestu... shattered her mind. But... she lived. If what they made her could be called living." Jao's voice was quiet now, laced with a sorrow that mirrored his father's.

Jao rested his tea cup. This... this was hard for him to do. To watch his father struggle with the pain, and knowing there was only more to come. But Kuro, his pet snake, licked at his chin, a small, scaled comfort against the storm brewing in the room.

"The Owaki are dying out, a type of cancer known as 'The Withering'. It most assuredly appears in their 30's and once it appears they have but five years max to live before it kills them."

"You can't mean..." Yin gasped, his hand freezing over his teacup.

"Yes. They had been manipulating the genetic coding of Shi using mother's structure as the base in order to recreate Ains... hoping to produce a clone of him capable of wielding Subjugation, which they believed would help them conquer the sickness."

Yang's cup shattered under the force of his grip, porcelain and tea scattering across the low table. "Suzaku... what did those monsters do to you..." His voice was a low growl of anguish.

Yin placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Yang breathed in deeply, fighting to maintain control.

"Sozen, Rhea and I concocted a plan, one that would have me pretend to be Sozen's gift back to his family. Allowing us to infiltrate Taka No Kami and retrieve the ring and put an end to the experiments. It was the only way Sozen would know where she was kept."

"Foolhardy, to say the least." Yin's tone was sharp with disapproval.

"I agree, and protested, but Rhea insisted, and as you know she can be very convincing." Jao offered a small, grim smile at the thought of Rhea's stubbornness.

"...." Yang remained silent, his jaw tight, listening.

"It worked, I was bound and masked but my senses were sharper than ever... when we arrived however, Iwa wasn't alone."

"Who was there?" Yang demanded, his control wavering again.

"The youngest Owaki son, Ren... and..." Jao hesitated, the name like ash on his tongue.

"And?" Yin prompted gently.

"Ayune Yaarou."

"A Yaarou Elder?!" Yin's eyes widened slightly.

"What could that white-haired witch possibly want with the Owaki? The two clans have been at each other's throats for eons." Yang's disbelief was palpable.

"Apparently they made some kind of trade. Iwa said he acquired a ritual from them, one that would allow him to control Shi without making them sunless... giving him autonomy over their Dankestu."

"Hells..." Yang muttered, the implications sinking in.

"I don't know what he gave her in exchange, but whatever it was, it was important enough to bring them under the same roof and for the Yaarou to share powerful knowledge."

" Over the last few months their presence has increased, the work of their recently appointed Xh'ion. A ruthless girl, the same age as you, who has been storming across Edo ski rocketing the Yaarou's prevalence in the world over."

Jao said nothing. He had heard through the grapevine about a Yaarou prodigy who hosted a massive tournament where she was the lone opponent. It seemed that rumors, like most rumors on Edo as of late, was true. He could already foresee, that their blade may yet cross in the future to come.

"The Yaarou secrets are something not easily obtained. They are as secretive as they are deadly. We've lost many of our ranks to obtain bread crumbs of intel and have only managed to take down lesser compounds and outposts.." Yin stated, his expression grim.

"Well that's about to change... Ayune is aware of who I am now." Jao said, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"And thanks to you dropping a mechanized meteor, the whole continent knows about us now I'm sure," Yin said dryly, his palms glowing with a faint light, nestu warming the tea in his remaining cup, the shards forgotten on the floor.

"Good... let them know," Jao said as his eyes narrowed, his emotions intensifying.

"We've only experienced success this long, surviving this long because we've been careful, Shinobi have always used the cover of darkness," Yin argued, his voice steady but firm.

"Yin-dono, with all due respect, the time of skulking in the shadows has ended. I wouldn't count of them teaming together, the one thing that is constant on Edo is pride, I'm sure it set their souls a blaze just to be under the same roof for more than twenty minutes." Jao responded, his gaze unwavering.

"Jao, I understand you've grown in strength, but we are talking about an all out offense... we are too few in number. If the Owaki and Yaarou decide to team up, we wouldn't stand a chance." Yin stated firmly.

"No Yin... Number 5 is right..."

Yang said with a tone as somber as it was firm. Grief simmered like a low brewing flame beneath his words, but a new resolve had hardened them. Jao was surprised; he and Yang never agreed on anything this fundamental.

"Yang?" Yin said, clearly taken aback.

"We have been barely scraping by, skittering like mice under the veil of necessity in order to survive, yet we've barely put a dent in the Yaarou's forces and the Owaki, before the loss of Taka no Kami, have only grown stronger and richer off our people's blood." Yang's hand clenched into a fist again, this time not in shock, but in barely contained fury.

"...." Jao remained silent, not sure how to process his father actually supporting him.

"Jao-Den is right," Yang said, his gaze sweeping from Jao to Yin. "We can no longer continue parading around in the shadows of our enemies. It is time for the Shi to step into the sun and strike at the hearts of our foes."

"This entire system is built off the fear of our kind. I say we give them something to shit themselves about. We need to cut the head of this beast... and strike the Owaki while the iron is hot." Jao finished, his voice ringing with conviction.

"Plot twist, you're all correct."

A voice entered as the doors to Yin's chambers opened. It was the Number 3 of the Shi 10, Eridan. He stood framed in the doorway, a figure of lean efficiency, his usual sharp gaze scanning the room, taking in the shattered cup, the strained faces, and the palpable tension. He stepped inside, the faint scent of ozone clinging to his clothes, suggesting a rapid, electrically charged journey. He didn't elaborate immediately, letting his statement hang in the air, adding another layer of confusion to the volatile mix of emotions.

The moment Eridan stepped across the threshold, the very atmosphere seemed to shift, crackling with a sudden, sharp polarization. The tension, a constant undercurrent among those who gathered here, now focused entirely on him. It was a rare occurrence to see the Number Three in Basilisk Valley. He normally spent his time immersed in the complex network of different Gamallow hideouts scattered throughout Edo, the sprawling, labyrinthine spalls they called home. For him to be here, in the flesh, leaving his domain behind, could mean any number of things, and not too many of them could be good.

Seated around a low table, where delicate teacups rested, were the others. Yin, the venerable Number One, already preparing a glass of tea with practiced, unhurried grace. Yang, Number Two, the brute force cloaked in a veneer of composure, managed to settle himself just enough not to appear entirely uncivilized. And Jao, the young prodigy, carefully placed his tea cup to the right of him. Eridan being here could signal only one thing in Jao's mind: he had something profoundly important to share.

"Number 3, inscrutable timing, as always," Yin said, his voice a low, steady current against the sudden tension. He didn't look up from the precise ritual of pouring the tea, but his focus was palpable.

"Naturally," Eridan responded with a casual, almost dismissive wave of his hand. His green eyes scanned the faces before him, landing briefly on Jao. "Oh, hey there, Shadow Bite. I see you've already tossed those glasses I made for you, and did you get... taller?" He punctuated the question by flinging an arm around Jao's shoulders, a casual wink disrupting the serious air.

Jao, caught off guard by the familiar, almost brotherly gesture delivered with such striking incongruity to the situation, stammered slightly. "Er, uh, yeah, I guess so. I still have them, I don't plan on tossing them actually..." He reached up, scratching the side of his face awkwardly.

Eridan chuckled, withdrawing his arm but keeping his gaze on Jao. "Ahh, you like the 'Guy with power that wear glasses' look, aye? No, I get it, it suits you. Glasses naturally disarm people, forces them to lower their guard. Very chic shinobi."

Yang, who had been visibly restraining himself, finally spoke, cutting through Eridan's lighthearted banter with the bluntness of a hammer blow. "What are you doing here, Number 3?" His voice was low, laced with suspicion.

"Oh, well, aren't you a bundle of posies and sunshine as usual, Number 2," Eridan shot back sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips.

Yang gave a short, sharp sound that might have been a suppressed snort or "Pfft."

Eridan settled into a cushion, his demeanor shifting slightly, though the casual ease never entirely left him. "Is it such a bad thing for a guy to want to check in on his family every now and again?"

"Come to play devil's advocate?" Yin asked, finally presenting Eridan with a freshly poured cup of tea.

Eridan accepted the cup, cradling it in his hands. "In a manner of speaking... Yin-sama, trust me when I say few understand your concern the way I do. You know well the struggles my clan has suffered under our allegiance to the Shi. We lost everything and have just barely begun to find ourselves again." He took a slow sip of the tea, his green eyes momentarily distant. "We have depended on shadows and secrets in order to survive, as conventional shinobi of the old world... but this world is changing, vastly so with each passing moment. New threats... like the B'halian Empire..."

Yin nodded gravely. "Yes... I have heard the whispers of B'halia's campaign of world domination..."

"And human extinction," Yang added, his voice hard. "Word is they've already begun to invade Muu."

"Then it's only a matter of time and perspective before they shift their focus to Edo," Yin concluded, the weight of the possibility heavy in the air.

"Then we are pressed on all fronts," Jao said tensely, his earlier awkwardness replaced by sharp concern. "Threats outside of Edo and the carnage of our bloodline from within."

Eridan leaned forward, setting his tea cup down with a soft click. A different energy now radiated from him – not casual, but focused and vibrant with suppressed excitement. "Yet with new threats also come new alliances. A certain alliance, in fact, has just delivered to my front door something that will help us with two birds with a single stone."

"Alliance?" Yang said, a flicker of genuine curiosity finally breaking through his stoic facade.

"Hyperia." Eridan said the name flatly, letting it hang in the air, charged with meaning.

A collective pause. Yin spoke, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Hyperia? We've always been sure it was just a wives' tale."

"I assure you, Number 1, they are quite real. And everything about the legends are true, and then some," Eridan claimed, his gaze steady.

Jao, his mind already racing ahead, voiced the most immediate question. "Why would Hyperia be interested in the Shi, when they have the Owaki or even the Yaarou to reach out to?"

"Because of these." As he spoke, a hard-light holographic console shimmered into existence, projecting from a device on his arm. He tapped a few controls, and a complex blueprint materialized in the air above the table – a detailed rendering of intricate, mechanical forms. "Artificially Integrated Omnipotent Nodal Sentinels. A.I.O.N.S." He gestured to the projection. "These babies are equipped with weaponry powered by energy sources I couldn't have even dreamed up. Able to produce weaponry that can slay even a Mazokou... You can see where I'm going with this."

Yin, Yang, and Jao's eyes became filled with a blend of curiosity, concern, resistance, and intrigue as they scanned the detailed holographic schematics. The implications were staggering.

"As for the reason why they came to us... well, a body without blood is nothing but a dry husk..." Eridan paused, letting the implication sink in.

"Ophidian..." Jao breathed, his tone laden with inspiration. His eyes scanned the metrics over and over, deciphering the complex data streams. These creations were immaculate, a level of technological integration he'd only theorized about.

"So what then?" Yang spoke, his voice still carrying a note of disapproval. "We send an army of bots to fight in our stead? A war of remote controls and trigger fingers?"

"A predictable concern." Eridan's smirk returned, but it was softer this time. "I know that Ri'ore bloodlust is thick within you purebloods. Don't worry, I wouldn't dare deny us the chance to spill the blood of the other houses ourselves..." He tapped a few more buttons on the hard-light console. The A.I.O.N.S. blueprints dissolved, replaced by a picture of Eridan himself, but outfitted in a sleek, form-fitting cybernetic suit – an Exo suit.

"The moment I laid eyes on the A.I.O.N.S., my mind began buzzing with ideas... and then Xetta gave me the most insane inspiration since cracking Ophidian..." He looked at Jao directly. "Jao's glasses utilize a form of nanotech equipped with programming that assists in their usage and patience. If I could apply the same principles to the A.I.O.N.S.... these Exo suits could end up becoming the next wave of shinobi ingenuity and take the world by storm." Eridan explained, his green eyes shining with inspiration and enthusiasm, the casual mask momentarily dropped to reveal the brilliant mind beneath.

"Quite the lofty aspiration," Yin said cautiously. "What would they do?"

"Well, it's all still theory right now. Until I get the actual sentinels in my hands and witness their functions in practice firsthand, I won't know the full extent possible. However," Eridan's voice grew more firm, listing the projected capabilities, "they would increase naten output and control by fathoms, increasing physical parameters by superhuman margins, and expand the Shi's natural healing factor by leagues."

"I can't imagine such a tool doesn't have its setbacks," Yin stated, ever pragmatic.

"The energy they require to function is enormous. They will also require strong bodies and minds to maintain. Which is why I am only recommending the Shi 10 as the ones to wear them."

Jao's eyes glimmered with a flux of promising power as Eridan spoke. His ambitions, what he could become with such a tool, enthused him beyond words. He was already picturing himself in one of the suits, unleashing power he could only dream of controlling fully now.

Eridan caught the look in his eyes. "I can see you eyeing them already, Jao boy. Unfortunately, these prototypes aren't really for you."

Jao's excitement crashed, replaced by keen disappointment. "Wh-what? How come?"

"Well, before you went and became a super Shi, I had been working on something for you. But now your naten output and pool as of now is far outside the parameters the current blueprints can contain. You'd just end up killing yourself from the suit trying to maintain its function under the weight of your power." Eridan's tone was gentle, explaining the technical reality. He added, trying to lighten the mood, "But you know how you're kind of my favorite person?"

"I am?" Jao said dryly, confused by the sudden turn in subject and the mixed signals.

"You are," Eridan confirmed with a genuine smile. "So trust the process... Until we get the others flushed out, I won't know if your exo suit is even possible." He saw the disappointment lingering on Jao's face and tapped him lightly on the chin with a finger to cheer him up. " chin up, kid."

"I am wary of all this," Yin said, his gaze sweeping from the holographic display back to Eridan. The technology was impressive, the potential undeniable, but alliances with entities like Hyperia and such drastic shifts in methodology gave him pause.

"Naturally, Yin-sama," Eridan replied, his voice losing its casual edge, becoming earnest and resolute. "However, sir, complacent, micro efforts are costing us more lives than we are saving. We might not have the numbers... but we have the quality. It's time for us to take back not only our freedom, but our right to exist on Edo as a name of power, not penitence."

A silence fell over the group, broken only by the subtle hum of the holographic projection. Even Yang seemed momentarily struck silent.

"...Well said," Yang finally conceded, the words almost grudging, but sincere.

Yin regarded Eridan for a long moment, his ancient eyes assessing the man, his words, and the undeniable truth of the situation. The external threats were real, the internal struggles weakening them. Playing the shadow game was no longer enough. "So what do you need from us?"

Eridan straightened, the holographic blueprints dissolving completely. The air remained charged, but now with a sense of purpose rather than mere tension. "To train... train as you've never done before. We, as a whole, need to be at our best to increase the chances of the Exo suit functioning; that aside, the oncoming battles will be more challenging than anything we've faced thus far. We need to be at our best, beyond it even, if we want to do more than just survive the storms brewing over Edo." He looked at each of them in turn, his green eyes burning with quiet intensity. "It's time to stop surviving," he finished softly, "and start fighting to live."

The chamber, usually cool and still, vibrated with a lingering sense of emboldened resolve. Eridan, ever the pragmatist, stood before them, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere as he reiterated the vital points – the grand initiative, the strategic goals, the impending arrival of advanced tech in the form of sentinels and exo suits from the distant Gamallow. His final, stern admonition hung in the air: train. Train relentlessly while they waited.

Jao, though a flicker of disappointment crossed his face at the thought of his own mission proceeding without such powerful tools, didn't dwell on it. His focus was already shifting to the crucial matter he needed to bring before his family, his clan's leadership.

"Eridan," Jao began, his voice steady, "I think it goes without saying that this is going to cost a lot of resources and money to get off the ground."

Eridan nodded, adjusting the data slate in his hand. "It is. While what you found in Ains's vault was... significant, we are going to require a lot more to cover this initiative. The scope is vast."

A brief silence fell.

"And where," Yin asked, his voice low, "do you two suggest we get those funds?"

Jao looked to his father, Yang, who sat slightly apart, his expression inscrutable. A silent understanding passed between them, a subtle nod from the elder that seemed to communicate volumes.

"We are going to take it," Yang said, his voice resonating with quiet certainty, "from the Owaki."

A stunned silence fell over both Yin and Eridan. Eridan raised an eyebrow, a rare display of surprise.

Yang continued, his words deliberate. "You've said it yourself, Number Three," he said, addressing Eridan. "We don't have the time to sit around twiddling our thumbs in the dark anymore. The Owaki are more vulnerable right now than ever. Two of their heirs lie dead in the rubble of their most infamous facility. Their resources are vast, and they have hoarded wealth for generations by oppressing others."

"Though ultimately my goal is to reclaim the Kaos Ring..." Jao interjected, the memory of the artifacts from Ains's reports sparking in his mind.

"...Ruin," Eridan corrected smoothly, "the Ring of Destruction. A fitting name for such a weapon, if the legends are true."

Yin leaned forward, his initial shock giving way to strategic consideration. "And how do you expect to be able to get to it? Even you, Jao, can't simply force your way through the Owaki mainland's main vaults. You only succeeded against Iwa because of Sozen's unique access. This time, I'm sure their security measures will be nigh impenetrable."

Jao met his father's gaze, then turned back to Yin and Eridan, a quiet confidence radiating from him. "With Mugen by my side," he said, referring to his newly acquired power, "entry won't be a problem. Not into any structure or vault."

Yin's eyes narrowed slightly. "You intend to do this alone?"

"He won't be alone," Yang spoke, standing from his seat.

Jao's head snapped towards his father, a look of shock replacing his confidence. "Father?"

"I will be accompanying Number Five on his next mission," Yang stated, his bearing that of a warrior preparing for battle, not an elder statesman.

Eridan gave a slight, intrigued smile. "I see... a father-son expedition then? Why, we haven't seen that since you and Yin in your younger days."

Yin looked at Yang, his suspicion from earlier briefly resurfacing. "And you are sure of this, Yang? This kind of infiltration is high risk, even with Jao's... capabilities."

"I am," Yang affirmed, his gaze resolute. "Aside from making sure my son doesn't let this new power go to his head, it will let me witness first hand Jao Den's readiness for what is to come. For everything that is to come." He paused, then looked directly at Jao, a flicker of something deep and complex in his eyes. "Besides... I wish to see with my own eyes, what the future of the clan might be... and whom it might one day depend on."

"Yang-sama..." Jao breathed, the weight of his father's words settling upon him.

Yin turned to Jao, a challenging glint in his eyes. "Well, Jao, how do you feel about that? Carrying the weight of your father's expectations and risking everything on this bold move?"

Jao straightened, the earlier shock replaced by fierce determination. Ambition bubbled in his gaze, hardening into a resolve that mirrored the atmosphere of the room. "We will not fail."

Yin studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "Very well. You have my permission. Begin the preparations."

"Thank you, Yin-dono." Jao bowed respectfully.

"That said, Number Five." Yang's voice cut in, drawing Jao's attention. "Meet me in the depth of the Valley at sun fall. There is something of... great importance we will need to discuss before we set off. Alone." Yang's tone left no room for argument.

Yang then bowed briefly to Yin, a gesture of respect and acknowledgment of the clan head's authority, before turning and taking his leave. He walked with purpose, seeming to need to sort his thoughts, likely steeling himself for the upcoming task and the private conversation he'd requested with Jao.

As soon as Yang was gone, Eridan turned back to Yin, his pragmatic mind already racing ahead. "In the meantime, Yin-dono and I will begin the training regime for the others. We should send Numbers Six and Eight to tackle the remaining farms controlled by Owaki – free the last of our kin. I say we take this moment, while the Owaki are reeling, for an all-out offensive. Hit them hard, hit them everywhere."

"No doubt the Yaarou will become aggressive," Yin mused, contemplating the broader political landscape. "They won't be able to ignore us anymore after this kind of move."

"I dare say that already became the case thanks to Shadow bite over here," Eridan replied with a wry look at Jao, referencing the destruction at Taka No Kami.

Jao accepted the nickname with a small smirk.

Yang's words echoed in Yin's mind – the mention of Suzaku's fate, the veiled reference to the future. Yin got the distinct feeling that Yang was, indeed, up to something more than just assessing Jao or securing funds. No doubt he wanted in on Jao's crusade against the Owaki, to pay them back, perhaps for what happened to Suzaku. Would Yang allow his burning vengeance to seep into his own long-standing vendetta against the Yaarou as well? Would this 'father-son expedition' serve multiple purposes?

The thought lingered on Yin's heart, a knot of unease, but he chose to place it aside for now. His immediate focus needed to be on the practical: training the new shi whom Jao had freed, integrating them, and honing the skills of the others already here. It wasn't known how long it would take the Gamallow to complete their formidable tech; every moment before its arrival was precious as air, a moment to build strength, to prepare, to become lethal. The raid on the Owaki was step one, a necessary risk, but the true work began here, in their own halls, under the watchful eyes of Yin and Eridan. The dice were cast.

-- Several Hours Later--

Jao had made his way here to the heart of Basilisk Valley. It wasn't the fond kind of nostalgia. The last time he was here, this valley had been the arena for a battle that nearly claimed his and his father's lives. It had been a brutal, necessary lesson in the arrogant, reckless way Jao had begun to view his burgeoning power. Hubris, a venomous vine, had started to twist around his heart, whispering that the countermeasures and restraints placed upon him were mere relics, testaments to how formidable he now was. His father, Yang, had quickly and violently disabused him of that notion, illuminating the stark reality that those measures weren't proof of strength, but markers for his weakness of mind, his profound lack of control.

Nearly four months had passed since that day. Four months of growth, grappling with the raw edges of his power, and living with secrets that felt heavier than the mountains themselves. Standing amidst the echoes of their conflict, he wondered why Yang could ask him to return to this place. They hadn't even truly debriefed the bombshell Jao had dropped regarding the truth of his mother, the decades of suffering he'd hinted at bringing to an end. Even then, in that fraught conversation, he hadn't found the courage to tell him the entire truth... the agonizing, final truth of how Jao himself had had to be the one to end her slow, painful decline in her final moments. Part of him still felt like he didn't need to, that it was best to let the fractured peace stand, letting Yang believe only that her suffering, nearly two decades later, had finally come to an end.

"I wonder what he could want," Jao murmured to the indifferent stone.

He pushed further into the valley's maw, the path growing steeper and the air colder. Around a bend, where the rock face smoothed impossibly into a colossal, sealed surface, he saw him. Yang stood before the vault, the very same monolithic structure from before. Etched with swirling, ancient script and humming with contained energy, it felt less like a prison and more like... a source. The magic embedded within it seemed to resonate with Jao, pulling at something deep within him, an even stronger, more demanding tug than it had last time.

Yang didn't turn as Jao approached. He stood perfectly still, a figure carved from the mountain granite, eyes closed, arms folded across his chest.

"You've come... good," Yang said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the rock.

"As you've asked," Jao replied, stopping a respectful, wary distance away.

Yang opened his eyes then, their depth inscrutable. "Not long ago Aphosis took control of you and nearly picked my soul clean from my bones."

"Well..." Jao allowed a small, dry smile to touch his lips. "You did provoke the nether serpent."

A flicker, almost imperceptible, crossed Yang's face. "Heh... yes... I suppose so."

An awkward silence settled between them, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the whistle of the wind. A shifting in their disposition – the son deferring, the father evaluating, both bound by history and secrets.

"Why have you asked me back here?" Jao finally asked, cutting through the quiet.

Yang studied him for a moment, his gaze sweeping over Jao as if seeing him for the first time, or perhaps, finally seeing him clearly. "You have grown strong, Jao, and not just in terms of power. You... have developed a certain character about you that I must admit... I didn't foresee happening..." There was a rare note of appraisal, almost surprise, in Yang's tone.

"Meaning you're surprised I haven't gone on a murderous tirade across the continent, lapping up the blood of my enemies?" Jao said with a light smirk, testing the boundaries.

Yang's lips curved upwards slightly, a fleeting, almost ghostlike smile on his ordinarily unyielding face. "Even managed to develop a dry sense of humor... You remind me of her... your mother in that way." He said it coyly, but mentioning her name brought a subtle shift in the air, a wisp of something fragile.

"It's over, right?... She rests now?" Yang asked, the fragile wisp solidifying into a definite note of grief lingering on his tone.

Jao's smirk vanished instantly. The sharp and painful memory returned – the rhythmic beeping of the machines, his own trembling hand, the quiet, final release. "Yes... I ensured she got to experience the life she was robbed of... she called me. Her little sun bean..." He remembered the warmth in her eyes just before... He couldn't finish the thought out loud.

"I see...." Yang said somberly, his gaze drifting towards the vault.

Jao remained silent, the weight of his secret pressing down.

"She often called you that through her pregnancy," Yang continued, his voice softer now, lost in memory. "I was sure you were going to be a tool of war, a bringer of darkness the likes this world had yet to see... She, however, was certain that you would instead illuminate Edo, a third sun in the making..."

"What was she like.... my mother?" Jao inquired lightly, genuinely wanting to know, needing to fill the void where a mother's memory should be.

"Stubborn, never listened to a word I said... another trait you share apparently." Yang said, the ghost of a smirk returning.

"Yeah... guess so," Jao replied, a genuine, unforced smile touching his lips this time.

"She was a fearless warrior, yet unlike other Yaarou, there was an underlying compassion. Even in the way she killed. Wishing to cause the least amount of pain possible. Her eyes.... crimson moon, more hauntingly beautiful than any Dankestu.... hair like silk spun from moonlight." Yang's voice was laced with a profound longing, remembering the only woman he had ever loved, the one person who had seen the potential for light where he had only seen shadow.

"Do you think of her still...?" Jao asked quietly.

Yang's gaze returned to Jao, the vulnerability in his eyes stark before he masked it again. "There isn't a single day that I don't... nor a day where I don't blame myself for not being able to protect her...but she begged me to take you..." The regret was heavy, a palpable weight in the air.

"Father...." Jao whispered, the word alien and heavy on his tongue, spoken out of a shared, unexpected moment of pain.

"But... that is a story for another day," Yang said, his voice firming, resuming his guarded composure. "I didn't bring you here for that." He turned fully to face Jao, his earlier softness replaced by a steely resolve.

"Then why are we here?" Jao asked again, the brief connection dissolving, replaced by anticipation.

"A part of me was concerned when you first arrived that having this power would make you arrogant, reckless," Yang stated, his eyes locking onto his son's. "But instead, you have shown a vigilant and intentional spirit concerning your power and what you will use it for. This... has solidified my faith that you are ready for our clan's most sacred technique."

Jao's breath hitched. The ancient power of the vault seemed to pulse in time with his own quickening heart. "You mean..."

"Yes," Yang said, his eyes narrowed, sharp and unwavering. "I intend to teach you the art of Profane Embodiment."

The very air tensed, growing thick and heavy with suppressed energy. Finally, the moment had come. Ever since Jao first laid eyes on his father's use of the technique, a terrifying manifestation of power so otherworldly it had provoked even the ancient, slumbering Nether Serpent, Aphosis, to rise in Jao's defense, he had both feared and yearned to understand it. Now, that strength was within reach.

"Tell me," Yang began, his voice quiet but carrying, What do you know of it? Of Profane Embodiment." He casually folded his arms, his eyes resting quaintly on Jao, waiting.

Jao considered his answer carefully, drawing on the fragmented teachings he'd received. "From what Yin-dono shared," he replied, "it is the process of manifesting our souls into the physical realm. But instead of inscribing it on the world around us, we use our very flesh as a catalyst."

"Yes, that is certainly a firm way to put it, Yang affirmed with a slight nod.

"Within each person exists a space, you can call it a soul realm, a corridor of sorts that reflects who that person is under the guise of the ego."

Yang continued, pacing a slow circle around Jao.

"For the Shi, each of our realms is more like a mirror, a malison that, as I've said to you before, attempts to draw in those who glare into it. Each soul we consume adds to the mirror... though I suspect for you, an inheritor of the original malison, it will possibly yield something else entirely."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Jao knew what he meant. "You mean Aphosis..."

"Yes." Yang stopped pacing and faced Jao directly.

"Profane Embodiment is literally that—morphing one's physical body to reflect the shape of the Shi's Malice. Its attacks capable of tearing our victim's soul right from their husk. We each carry only a sliver of the Nether Serpent's essence the cursed force known as Malice, but you carry the very source itself. Which is why we have exercised such caution until now."

He gestured with a hand, encapsulating the gravity of the technique.

"Those who master Profane Embodiment have been known to develop techniques known as Calamities. Aptly named so, for they are arbiters of great power that embody the essence of the wielders Malice. To hit without fail, but require a dangerous amount of naten to manifest."

Jao recalled Yin-sama's warning, a chill touching his skin. "Yin-sama said that the becomes lost to them, rendering it eternally lethargic."

"Indeed, it has happened before," Yang acknowledged, his expression turning serious.

"However, that is known to happen if the catalyst for the embodiment suffers enough damage during its transformation. The embodiment is literally the act of putting one's soul on the line. Damage that the catalyst takes is also taken by the soul itself. It is possible to... break, to lose a piece of oneself in the aftermath."

"I see..." Jao murmured, the weight of the risk settling upon him. To lose a piece of himself...maybe even all of him... permanently.

Yang seemed to read his thoughts. "I don't know which way your Calamity will manifest, nor can I predict how such a transformation will affect you," he pondered, his gaze distant for a moment, perhaps recalling past trials. Then his eyes focused sharply back on Jao.

"But I have faith in your ability. And your resolve."

Jao took a deep breath, pushing away the fear. He thought of the Owaki, of Taka No Kami's destruction, and the narrow window of opportunity they had. He thought of the lives that depended on him mastering this power. "I am ready," he affirmed, his resolve thickening, hardening like forged metal within him.

"Very well, follow me." Yang turned and walked towards a section of the wall, previously indistinguishable from the rest. As he approached, his hand grew bright with naten, the ethereal energy swirling around his fingers. The rune encrusted seam in the wall revealed itself, and Ophidian locks, crafted from intricate metal serpents, began to unhinge and detangle with soft clicks and hisses, seemingly coming alive under Yang's touch.

The enormous doors swung open revealing a vast chamber beyond. It was likened to an arena, expansive and enclosed, yet the stone here differed dramatically from the rough-hewn rock outside. It was bleach white, almost translucent, and hummed with an intense, almost palpable energy. It felt less like mere stone and more like living, resonant crystal.

"What is this place?" Jao inquired, stepping over the threshold, the humming resonating in his bones.

"We call it the White Mirror," Yang explained, waiting for Jao to step fully inside before the doors began to smoothly swing shut behind them, sealing them in the luminous, humming space.

"A place where the stone absorbs energy from the celestial bodies. It helps to draw out the latent power of our malison without the need of duress. It is one of the main reasons we retreated to these mountains."

A question that had lingered since their last desperate battle surfaced in Jao's mind. "Wait... if this place existed, why did you force the Nether Serpent out like that last time?"

Yang walked further into the chamber, the subtle hymn of the humming stone deepening as they moved towards the center. "Because I needed you to learn how dangerous your power is unchecked," he replied, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space.

"Even now that you have learned far more control and even mastered your Dankestu, you are not immune to the siren song that power presents to all those who seek it. It was that very song that led Ains down the path of destruction and treachery."

They reached the heart of the White Mirror, the light and energy most concentrated here. Yang stopped and turned to Jao, his face serious. "Come... I will start by invoking my own Profane Embodiment. Afterwards, you will emulate and find your own flow. We will continue from there."

His eyes held a clear, demanding expectation. "Be aware, you have a single week to master this."

A week. Jao's mind reeled slightly at the timeframe. It sounded like a lot of time in abstract, but the sheer scale of the power Jao had to work with – the very source of Aphosis – was going to prove incredibly difficult for him to mold and control. Profane Embodiment was something others among the Shi spent months learning to shape, needing at least a year to gain the ability to wield it with any proficiency. Jao, however, didn't have that luxury. He was going to have to achieve the virtually impossible if they were going to be able to capitalize on striking the heart of the Owaki clan before they had the chance to fully recover from the destruction of Taka No Kami.

Yang extended a hand, palm facing upward, and began to gather naten. The air around him shimmered, the white crystals glowing brighter in response. Jao watched, his heart pounding with a mix of terror and exhilaration. The impossible task lay before him, within him, waiting to be unleashed. The White Mirror hummed, a silent witness to the forging of a new, dangerous power.

The air within the White Mirror chamber felt strangely alive. Not with fresh mountain oxygen, but with contained, vibrating energy, amplified by the sheer, polished crystal lining the walls, floor, and ceiling. It wasn't just a chamber; it was an ancient crucible, designed to magnify and control the volatile forces that coursed through the Denkoushi.

"Pay close attention," Yang's voice echoed sternly within the chamber of the White Mirror, its resonance deep and felt all over. His Naten began to aggregate around him, a sizzling crimson red that seemed to suck the light from the crystal walls.

"I can only do this once." Yang's palms became emboldened by his Naten, its sanguine flare thickening and congealing, appearing almost viscous, like liquid shadow illuminated by a hellish light.

"The technique can be separated into three steps. The First step is Invocation. It is the process of building up and coagulating one's Malice. Once it has reached its peak, and only then, is the technique possible. You must learn to bring to a head, the energy festering deep within you. This can vary person to person. Find what works for you. For me... it is a method your mother once showed me... a swaying of hands she used to perform her Hex craft."

His hands eventually reached an apex, a slight, almost imperceptible tremor running through his arm. The gathering of his Malediction was palpable, a heavy, suffocating presence in the pure air of the chamber.

"...The Second is Reflection, giving shape and form to the energy, causing the physical form to mirror the soul.... Profane Embodiment."

In that moment, Yang's body became endowed with the same energy that covered his hands. The crimson Naten, now thick and viscous with Malediction, didn't just coat him; it infused him. His eyes shot open, the swirling abyss of his Dankestu awakening. Normally, the Malediction would flood outward towards a target, tearing at their soul. But Profane Embodiment was a technique that reversed this flow, internalizing the collective might of all their cursed energy, forcing their being to become the physical reflection of the Malediction within them.

"Baloth's Enmity."

Yang's body suffered a gruesome, terrifying transformation. Bones cracked and reformed audibly, flesh tore apart and reshaped, bleaching white as bone. He grew rapidly in mass, his form swelling, contorting, until he stood nearly nine feet tall. The crystal floor cracked under the sudden, immense weight of his transformed body. The very air thrummed with a fierce, unholy energy, his presence borderline demonic as he shifted from mortal to something far from it. Wings the color of a deep, flawless ruby sprung from his back, catching the chamber's light in a horrifying sheen, a pair of twisted, similar-colored horns erupting from his brow. He exhaled a deep sigh, and the confined realm of the chamber shook around them.

Jao stared in awe, a knot of fear and grudging admiration tightening in his gut. So this... this was the power of his father's Malediction, the reflection of his cursed soul. It was horrifying, magnificent, and utterly profane.

"The Final... and most pivotal step, is Sustain. The technique consumes a massive amount of Naten, which is essential to keeping one in control of such power. Should your Naten be expended, control over the Malediction will wane, and all life will become your mortal foe... this aside, the technique will turn itself on the user, eating away at your very life force, shortening your lifespan." Yang's voice, though deeper and guttural from the transformation, was strained. Even now, Jao could hear it – the struggle for Yang to remain in control of the cursed power, the Malediction raging against the leash of his will and his dwindling Naten.

"Amass, Shape, Maintain. Invoke, Reflect, Sustain."

It was then that the power began to melt from his body, the bone-white flesh receding, the wings and horns dissolving into crimson mist, his form returning back human. He stood naked, his shinobi clothes having been shredded by the transformation, his chest heaving slightly. The demonstration was over.

Jao swallowed, his mind reeling from the raw power he had witnessed. He had one week. Seven days to replicate that terrifying, soul-mirroring transformation.

"Now," Yang said, his voice hoarse but firm. " Begin."

Step One: Invocation

The air in the White Mirror chamber hummed with a low, persistent energy, a stark contrast to the stillness Jao tried to cultivate within himself. The chamber lived up to its name; the walls and even the floor seemed lined with a crystalline stone that caught the faint light drifting down from natural shafts high above, mirroring it back and forth, seemingly amplifying everything – sound, light, and especially energy. It was the perfect crucible, Yang had explained, for the volatile energies of the Denkoushi.

Today was Day One, focused solely on Invocation– calling forth the Malice. Jao had watched Yang closely, trying to replicate the precise, almost dismissive sway of his father's hand as he initiated the technique. Jao tried it now, a clumsy imitation, feeling a ridiculous self-consciousness settle over him in the vast, echoing chamber. He felt nothing but the air moving around his fingers.

He abandoned the hand-sway, settling into a cross-legged meditation posture. He needed to feel it, deep within. The Malice. The cursed energy, a festering essence inherited through generations of Denkoushi and their soul-stealing Dankestu eyes. It was a fundamental part of him, yet it felt alien, elusive. Yang described it as 'coming to a head,' coalescing like a storm cloud. Jao felt only a diffuse, formless dread when he reached for it.

He spent hours cycling through techniques he'd learned over years of training: deep meditation to quiet the surface mind, rigorous naten control exercises designed to manipulate internal energy flows, even chanting ancient Denkoushi sutras whispered to ward off or perhaps understand the Malice. None of it worked. He felt faint stirrings, fleeting wisps of cold, dark energy, but every time he tried to gather them, to make them coalesce, they scattered like startled birds. Frustration mounted, hot and stinging. The sheer, simple inability to grasp what was supposed to be inside him felt like a profound failure. Day One was slipping away, marked only by repeated, agonizing failure.

Yet he did no relent despite exhaustion finally forced him to stop trying to demand it. The dawn of day two emerged. He slumped, not giving up, but letting go of the frantic effort. He was overthinking it all, he knew the power was there, he could also attribute the White Mirror's influence hindered casual channeling. He reached, not with his physical hands, not with structured naten techniques, but with something deeper, an inner sense, a raw connection to the deep well of dark emotion that the Malice fed upon. He cast his mind back, not to technique, but to feeling. The cold knot of fear, witnessing his people's slavery. The burning rage at the cruel experiments, the grotesque injustice dealt to his own mother, transformed into a test subject. That was the true root, the personal soil from which his Malice grew.

And it was then that he felt it. Not a scattering, not a wisp, but a stirring in the depths of his soul realm. A presence. Aphosis arose from its slumber, the serpent Djinn of Darkness and Chaos, the ancient, monstrous entity bound within the Denkoushi bloodline, the very root of their cursed power, the embodiment of his Malice.

In the space that existed only within his mind, a vast, shadowy expanse that felt both limitless and claustrophobic, Aphosis manifested. A colossal serpent of pure shadow, scales shimmering with trapped starlight, eyes like burning coals, it slithered towards him, immense and ancient power radiating from its form.

"Why is it you fight?" the serpent hissed, its voice a resonant vibration that echoed through Jao's very being. "For dominance as Ain's did, to return the world to chaos, it's root?"

Jao stood firm, though the presence of the Djinn was overwhelming. "Ain's desired more than just power for power's sake..." he replied, finding his voice surprisingly steady against the serpent's might. "...he was willing to become the very symbol of treachery in order to give his people the very reason I fight."

"What?" Aphosis inquired, its head tilting, those fiery eyes fixing on him.

"Freedom," Jao stated, his conviction solidifying within him. "The freedom to live as they chose, free of both the Shinobi dogma and the curse of Edo's culture of violence. By becoming the Stellar Supreme, ruler of Edo. I will succeed where he failed."

Aphosis laughed, a sound like grinding stone and the whisper of wind through dry bones. "You believe you can control me? Subdue me where he could not. I who have consumed gods, devoured planets feasted on dying stars?!"

Jao's eyes, even in this internal space, blazed with a sudden, fierce light, darker than Aphosis's own shadow. "There is no You, Aphosis. There is only I. Should there ever come a time the serpent attempts to become something more, with these eyes, I will reign you in. Even if it means devouring you..."

Aphosis recoiled slightly, not in fear, but in a profound, ancient understanding. The dark power in Jao's infernal gaze was absolute, a reflection of a will forged in defiance and suffering but most resolve. The freedom Jao spoke of– the freedom for his family, for his people, and the terrifying, exhilarating freedom to define his own power and use it as he saw fit – it resonated with something deep within the chaotic nature of the Djinn. Oddly enough, these answers appeased the serpent. The overwhelming presence remained, but the immediate challenge subsided.

"I shall relent...for now, but know that as you grow...so do we...so does all...There is still, so very much, you do not understand."

Back in the White Mirror chamber, in his physical body, Jao didn't sway his hand this time. He simply focused inwards, tracing that slow, internal spiral towards his core, mimicking the slow, persistent ache of the curse itself, guided by the connection he had just forged (or perhaps, reaffirmed) with Aphosis.

Then, a jolt. Not painful, but electric and sickeningly right. It wasn't the scattering energy he'd felt before. It was a sudden, profound shift. A heavy, oppressive weight settled in his chest, a thick, potent density radiating outwards. It felt like liquid shadow, like solidified dread.

It was here. Coalesced. Tangible, in its own way. The Malice.

Invocation. He had done it.

Relief washed over him, so potent it almost made him weak. But it was quickly followed by the stark realization of the journey ahead. He had taken the first step, wrestling the fundamental nature of his curse into being.

Two more steps. Reflection. Sustain. And only five days left.

Step 2: Reflection

The oppressive weight in Jao’s chest, the intentionally invoked Malice, was a double-edged sword. It thrummed with a dark, palpable energy – a dense knot woven from inherited cacophony and the raw, unleashed potential of Aphosis. Malice was a tumultuous power, requiring every ounce of Jao's sanity not just to summon but to wrestle into a semblance of stability. It was brash, volatile, like trying to cup wildfire in bare hands, yet somehow, he had managed to do so. The ease with which Aphosis, the Serpent God once hell-bent on devouring him, had seemingly relinquished this power felt unnerving. It was odd, a chilling curiosity, but Jao couldn't afford to linger on the serpentine deity's undoubtedly complex agenda. Let the snake of chaos skulk and scheme; whatever ploy it held in waiting, Jao believed, would crumble before his burgeoning will. Relief from the brutal struggle of the first step, Invocation, was fleeting, instantly replaced by the daunting knowledge that two more loomed: Reflection and Sustain.

Yang, ever the epitome of stoicism, offered nothing more than a silent nod when Jao managed to hold the oppressive presence for more than a few strained breaths. "Invocation holds," his voice, soft yet resonant in the vast, crystalline chamber, echoed. "Now, Reflection. Give it shape. Let the Malice manifest your intent, your nature."

This felt even more abstract than simply calling the power forth. Jao had the energy, a roaring, contained storm within him, but how to mold it? He tried visualizing forms – sharp, predatory claws, thick, hardened skin like ancient scales, the sleek, unsettling fluidity of a serpent's coil. He attempted to push the heavy Malice outward, willing it to coalesce around his limbs, to shroud his body like a second skin.

To no avail. It churned within him, a tempest threatening to scatter into nothingness or simply pool uselessly, a dead weight in his core. It felt less like wielding power and more like trying to sculpt with smoke in a gale, like imagination stubbornly resisting any pragmatic approach. He remembered Yang's demonstration, the unsettling shift in his father's form; his Malice hadn't poured outward then shaped, but had redefined his very physical vessel... a true reflection.

The crystalline walls of the White Mirror chamber, designed specifically to contain and reflect tumultuous energies, shimmered with distortions around Jao. They showed not a clear image of him, but wavering, shadowy outlines where the Malice brushed against his edges. It looked less like transformation and more like a dark, unstable heat haze rising from his skin.

He spent the rest of the day in frustrating, repetitive failure. The Malice would surge under his will, grow hot and heavy, like molten lead, but then collapse inward with a dull thud or simply dissipate into a lingering, internal ache. Giving shape to Aphosis’s inherent chaos felt precisely like trying to impose order on a wildfire with bare hands. Yang offered no solutions, only steel-eyed, unwavering observation. Exhaustion finally claimed Jao. He would rest. He would try fresh tomorrow.

Day 4: Refining Reflection

What did his Malice want to be? Day 4 began with this question echoing in Jao’s mind, a persistent, nagging thought. He stopped trying to force the Malice into pre-conceived, rigid shapes. Instead, he reached inward again, past the oppressive weight, past the thrumming, chaotic energy, towards the root – the consciousness of Aphosis, the serpent Djynn, now more awake and restless within him than ever before.

He remembered his answer to Aphosis upon their initial, terrifying union: Freedom. The freedom to protect those he cared for, the power to destroy injustice, to reform a broken world, reshape suffering, rebuild hope from ashes. He focused on that purpose, that burning desire born from witnessing suffering and injustice throughout his young life.

"You'll find it difficult, to define that which you do not understand...boy."

Aphosis's voice wasn't just in his head; it was like vocal silk draped all around him, a resonant vibration in the very air of the chamber.

"You're just being stubborn," Jao retorted, the thought sharp and defiant.

"You think me a trampling beast," Aphosis stated, the voice laced with ancient, weary amusement. "Epitome of evil, darkness with no other purpose but to smother, to smolder."

"You have led countless Shi to their deaths," Jao sneered, his voice tight with inherited grievance. "The curse of your existence is why we are hunted, our organs bottled and packaged like cattle."

"Petulant boy," Aphosis scoffed, the vocal silk turning sharp as obsidian. "Do not speak to me with the pride of righteousness in your throat... as if you could possibly comprehend the will of epochs beyond you, beyond your fleshly illusion, this morality you kind clings to."

"Then why don't you enlighten me?" Jao demanded, frustration boiling. "What... what are you?"

"A storm older than even your eldest moon given life,"

Aphosis's voice softened slightly, taking on a quality of vast, indifferent age.

"The culmination of chaos soaked clouds sprung from the collapse of planets. I am no mere void. I am that which you seek... that which my opposite opposes. Freedom... Early Edo was a time where strength defined purpose. The weak, the frail could not hold themselves in the chaos."

"A... storm?" Jao murmured, the concept foreign yet strangely resonant.

"You understand so little of this world, of the forces you thrash about in blind fury," Aphosis continued, a hint of disdain in the tone. "Your staunch self-righteousness like the fable of the sick. When the first of your wretched line groveled under the thumb of oppressions, slaughtered by the Shamans and Corsers, it was I who granted them strength. I who answered their forlorn hopes."

"Tero, The Mystic One" Jao breathed, the name of the first Shi flashing in his mind – the legendary figure who forged their strength from despair.

"It was I who gave him the power that earned Shinobi the freedom they so desperately craved, That they once sat at the pinnacle of the great families is over my whim." Aphosis affirmed, a note of ancient pride entering the voice. "I gave him that might, and together with me at the helm of his order, his God, your patron ,Edo's third sun, set the very Heart of Edo ablaze. The Shi became the most infamous of the families before the birth of the Dankestu..."

"But he turned again you...as did Ain's, in our culture you've now been labeled a demon."

"I am a living squall! The breath of thunder, the fathomless flame. From darkness all things appear. Even the light, the spark of influence of artist is born first form the void of infinite possibilities. Look past you feted prejudices and see me for the endless font that I am....that is what it means to wield darkness... to shape Chaossss."

Jao’s understanding broadened, shifting like the clouds Aphosis claimed to be. Instead of willing a shape, he focused on melding with the curse, allowing it to flow outward, guided by the concept of his desired power – freedom, protection, destruction, reshaping – all filtered through the nature Aphosis had just revealed. The serpent Djynn’s energy wasn't rigid; it was fluid, adaptable, predatory, a moving storm. He needed to be led by its nature, not try to define it with his limited perspective.

This time, the energy didn't just dissipate. It surged, hot and vibrant, curling around his right arm like liquid shadow. It solidified into something tangible yet ethereal – not a precisely planned armguard, but a shifting, second skin that rippled with dark energy, like scales forming and reforming. It felt hot, heavy, undeniably alive. It held for a few seconds, vibrating with contained power, before flickering, dissolving, and receding back into the familiar internal weight.

He spent the rest of the day practicing, focusing on specific limbs or areas, learning to coax the Malice into shapes that felt right—shapes that resonated with the chaotic, powerful, storm-like essence of Aphosis channeled through his will and purpose. By the end of the day, he could manifest unstable, partial embodiments – a hand with exaggerated, sharp nails that pulsed with dark light, a patch of dark, rippling skin across his shoulder, a blade of pure shadow extending from his forearm. He could hold them for perhaps ten to twenty seconds before they collapsed, often painfully. Reflection was beginning to take hold. Jao had been so focused on separating them, defining his independence that he failed to see how he was standing in his own way. This technique was rooted in willing ones flesh to reflect the nature of their Malice...not the other way around. He and Aphosis were one, there was no he, there was no you...there was only them.