The floor cracked beneath his feet as time surged wildly. The hall warped. Shadows formed around him—images of himself, eyes glowing red, blade dripping with broken seconds.

‎One stepped forward.

‎“You’ll fail,” it said in his voice.

‎“And when you do… I’ll finish what you start.”

‎Kairo fell to his knees.

‎“I don’t want this power,” he whispered.

‎“I just want to protect them.”

‎Aira’s voice echoed through the distortion.

‎“Then stop running from what you feel.”

‎Kairo looked up.

‎The shadows paused.

‎Ryuga stepped into the fractured space, untouched.

‎“Power without control destroys,” Ryuga said.

‎“But control without understanding destroys faster.”

‎He extended a hand to Kairo.

‎“Feel every second. Don’t stop time. Carry it.”

‎Kairo took a shaking breath.

‎He didn’t force time.

‎He didn’t resist it.

‎He let it pass through him.

‎The shadows shattered.

‎The hall returned to normal.

‎Kairo stood—sweat dripping, heart racing—but steady.

‎His sword floated back into his hand, glowing softly. Not brighter.

‎Calmer.

‎Ryuga nodded once.

‎“That,” he said, “is the first lesson.”

‎Shin let out a breath he’d been holding.

‎“So… how many lessons are there?”

‎Ryuga looked at the hourglass.

‎“A thousand years’ worth,” he replied.

‎Kairo stared at the flowing sand.

‎Then smiled faintly.

‎“Then I’ll learn them.”

‎Far away—beyond the fortress, beyond time—

‎Seraphis opened his eyes.

‎“Good,” he whispered.

‎“Now the boy begins to walk.”