Raizen felt the knife tremble against his skin.

At first he thought it was just his own pulse, the faint shake of blood moving too fast through his veins. He'd been crouched on the branch for long enough that his muscles were starting to complain again, and the fog made everything feel unreal - like the world could change shape at any moment and he wouldn't notice it.

Then the trembling became sharper.

More deliberate.

Raizen's hand slid into his sleeve and closed around the silvery hilt.

The metal vibrated under his fingers as if it had awakened.

His throat tightened.

"…It's starting…?"

Below him, inside the Ruler's chamber, voices moved again. The host spoke first, the careful politeness from earlier now scraped down to something thin and exhausted.

"I've said what I can say" the host murmured. "If you intend to place Alan on the throne, then… Fine. So be it."

There was a pause. Raizen pictured the man standing stiffly, the picture of controlled dignity, even as something inside of him cracked.

The host's voice hardened.

"But I'm warning you" he said, clenching his teeth. "One wrong step from him - one single mistake - and he'll follow you to the dead."

The words landed like a threat. Not theatrical. Not loud. Just a line drawn with a steady hand.

Raizen barely heard it.

Because the knife trembled again, and this time he felt it through his bones.

He pressed the blade out of his sleeve and lifted it into the pale light the fog allowed.

For a moment, it was just a knife. Shiny silver. Minimalist. Balanced.

Then a spark of red appeared near the edge.

A particle - tiny and weightless, like a grain of glowing dust caught in the wind.

Raizen froze.

The particle drifted in a slow circle around the blade, tracing a path as if it knew exactly where it was going.

A second particle joined it. Then a third. Then more, blooming into existence around the knife in a small, quiet swarm.

They didn't scatter like dust.

They orbited.

Perfect, smooth arcs, every movement precise, like the knife had become the center of a small, invisible system and the red points were obedient to its gravity.

Raizen's eyes widened as he watched the particles multiply, each one a tiny ember of red that left faint trails as it moved. The trails didn't linger long at first, but they began to overlap, and the air around the blade looked as if it was being drawn on by something careful.

The red points stretched.

The particles lengthened into thin lines, so fine Raizen could barely see them until they curved. Then the lines grew steadier, brighter, turning from fleeting traces into continuous threads that wrapped around the knife in beautiful spirals.

Raizen stared, stunned.

It was superb.

Not in a soft, gentle way.

In a clean, mathematical way. Like watching a lock click into place. Like watching that one annoying math problem finally be solved (we all know what it is).

The threads twined around the blade, crossing over one another, forming a delicate lattice that never touched the metal but stayed a finger's width away. They moved slowly, endlessly, always circling, always weaving, as if the knife had become a living signal.

Raizen couldn't tell whether he was seeing Eon or the shadow of Elin's true power.

He used Eon in fights. He'd seen it explode, slash, crush, reinforce, burn.

This wasn't that.

This was… Elegance.

This was the beauty of power that didn't need to scream.

Raizen blinked hard, and only then realized his hand was shaking.

From awe.

From the sudden, strange awareness that the knife was answering something he couldn't see.

Below, the host's footsteps moved toward the door. The Ruler's voice was quiet, too calm to carry anger.

"You've done your duty well" the Ruler said.

The host didn't respond. The door opened, then closed again. Then the footsteps faded away.

Raizen didn't lift his head. He kept staring at the threads, mesmerized by the way they circled the knife like a red halo trapped in motion.

A slow, heavy understanding settled into his chest.

This was the sign.

The trigger.

The moment that changed the plan from waiting and spying into acting.

"It has been done." Raizen whispered to himself.

The red threads continued to turn, indifferent to his words, as if the knife didn't care whether he understood or not. It only cared that the condition had been met.

Raizen forced himself to breathe.

Then he looked down.

The platform was far below, swallowed by fog.

He'd climbed up here expecting to sit and listen for hours. From what he knew, the floating islands were quite far away from here.

It hadn't even been that long.

Half an hour, maybe. An hour at most. But he trusted Elin's signal.

Now he had to get down.

Without being seen.

And preferably without losing the knife.

Raizen tucked the blade back into his sleeve, feeling the red threads still circling it like a living bandage. They didn't snag on the fabric or tear it. They moved through the sleeve's opening as if the cloth didn't exist.

That alone made his stomach tighten again.

"Okay" he thought. "Don't think. Just go."

He shifted on the branch, testing his weight before committing. The wood creaked softly, and he froze immediately, listening for any reaction below.

Nothing.

Only fog, leaves and distant creaking from suspended bridges.

He moved again, slower, letting his body remember the path down.

One branch. Then another. He reached carefully with his leg, touching bark first, checking stability, trying not to rush.

And checking for bugs.

He couldn't help it, alright?

His eyes swept every patch of bark before he landed, and every time he imagined the feel of tiny legs under his hands, his spine shivered.

"Never again" he muttered under his breath.

He lowered himself onto the next branch, ribs complaining immediately. The ache wasn't sharp like before, but it was insistent, reminding him that he was still doing too much.

He remembered all the times when Hikari started scolding him for doing too much.

He laughed through it and continued.

Down another branch. Then another. His boots landed softly, and he thanked every part of his training he'd ever hated.

When he finally reached the lower branch, his arms were trembling slightly and sweat had chilled at the base of his neck.

He paused, hanging there, and looked down.

The platform should've been close enough to see.

It wasn't.

The fog hid it completely.

Raizen's pulse quickened. For a moment, he felt suspended between sky and nothing, like Ukai had decided to erase the ground just to mess with him.

Then he jumped.

The fall was short, but in the fog it felt way longer. His boots hit wood with a soft thud, knees bending to absorb the impact.

He straightened, breathing hard, and stood still for a few seconds to properly process what just happened

The platform emerged around him in fragments - railing, tiles, thin branch supports, the curve of a walkway disappearing into darkness. The fog rolled in heavy layers now, so thick it felt like he could reach out and grab it.

Raizen's eyes adjusted.

Atman should've been somewhere ahead.

Raizen walked carefully, steps quiet, and after a few meters he saw the silhouette.

Atman was still standing in the same position as before.

Feet planted.

Arms raised.

Hands spread as if he was holding the fog itself open.

Dark-blue smoke coiled around both of his arms in the same thick spirals, and the particles weaving outward looked denser now, like threads spun from night. It was beautiful in its own grim way - a man shaping an entire region's atmosphere with sheer will.

Raizen felt relief.

Good. He's still covering me. He's still -

Then Raizen saw Atman's face.

His eyes were closed.

Not in concentration.

In absence.

His head was slightly tilted forward, but his posture hadn't changed. He wasn't slumped. He wasn't swaying. He looked almost exactly as he had looked when Raizen left him.

Except now there was something wrong in the stillness.

Atman's chest rose and fell.

But barely.

Slow, shallow breaths, like his body was trying to remember how to stay alive while his Eon did the work.

Raizen stopped walking.

His heart thudded once, hard.

"Atman?" he whispered.

No response.

The dark fog around them continued to churn and expand, obedient to the smoke threading from Atman's hands. The power didn't flicker. It didn't weaken. It held steady, as if it was locked into place now and didn't need the man anymore.

Or as if the man had given so much of himself to anchor it that his body had simply… stepped back.

Atman was unconscious.

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