"Maps only show the world that exists. This one shows the world trying to return."— Azuma-sensei
The Evalia war room—normally calm, ordered, and illuminated by steady lanternlight—felt strangely alive that morning.
Not alive like a forest.
Alive like something breathing.
The ancient map of Evalia, spread across the great stone table, pulsed faintly under its enchanted ink. The paper trembled, its edges curling as if reacting to a storm only it could sense.
Ken, Kabe, Qinglua, Reka, and Azuma gathered around it, but none dared touch it.
Azuma broke the silence first.
"…This should be impossible."
Reka leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"The map isn't reacting to mana," he said.
"It's reacting to memory."
Ken flinched at the word.
The trails across the map—once simple, clear lines drawn between stations—were no longer recognizable.
New Trails appeared:
spiraling into the mountains cutting into the southern deserts crossing through oceans where no land ever existed some ending abruptly in ink-black voids
Some glowed faintly gold.
Some bled red like fresh wounds.
Kabe pointed at a cluster of new symbols.
"What are those?"
Reka's voice dropped.
"Anchors."
The Anchors glowed a deep crimson, pulsing like hearts. Some sat over abandoned villages. Others lay deep in forests, where no one lived. One was directly over Shinganatsu.
Ken's jaw tightened.
Reka touched another Anchor near Amakatsu.
"Anchors appear when a Rewrite destabilizes reality. They are… pressure points."
Ken swallowed.
"Pressure points… for what?"
Azuma didn't hesitate.
"For collapse."
A silence heavier than stone fell over the room.
The map twitched—ink expanding like veins under flesh.
New names wrote themselves automatically:
QUINARU → QUINARA VALEPOINT → VEILPOINT HARANA VALLEY → HARANA VOID TILBARA → TILBARA(S) (it added an S suddenly, then removed it again)
Kabe frowned.
"It's… changing the names?"
Azuma's hands shook slightly as he swiftly took notes.
"This is not a map anymore," he whispered.
"This is a battlefield."
Ken felt his heartbeat thudding in his throat.
"What's causing this?"
Qinglua didn't speak.
He stared at the map with unreadable eyes, hand hidden behind his back, where the fractured sun mark burned faintly under his skin.
But the map wasn't finished.
New lines began crawling across its surface—jagged, sharp, unnatural lines—like scars being carved into flesh.
They formed symbols none of them recognized.
But Ken did.
He felt his stomach twist.
"Kurogane symbols," he whispered.
Everyone turned to look at him.
"You can read them?" Kabe asked.
Ken hesitated.
"…Not fully. But I've seen them. In Tina-sensei's old books."
Reka stepped closer.
"What do they say?"
Ken traced the largest symbol with trembling fingers, not touching the page.
"It says—"
But the ink moved.
The symbol rearranged itself into a foreign phrase before their eyes:
"THEY REMEMBER YOU, HIROKI."
Ken staggered back, breath hitched.
"Why… why would the map say that to me…?"
Kabe stepped next to him instantly.
"Ken—don't panic. It's targeting the bloodline, not you."
But the words pressed deeper:
THEY REMEMBER YOU
YOU
HIROKI
HIROKI
HIROKI
Ken squeezed his eyes shut.
The map pulsed again, louder—as if calling his name.
Reka grabbed the map's corners.
"Close it!"
Azuma shook his head violently.
"No—if we seal it now, we lose the only tool showing us the Rewrite's effects!"
The ink began spreading toward Ken.
Ken froze.
"…It's moving toward me."
The shadows on the map curled like hungry hands.
Kabe grabbed Ken by the collar and yanked him back.
"Get away from him!"
And then—
The map stopped.
All the trails froze.
The Anchors dimmed.
The symbols held still.
Silence.
For a moment no one breathed.
Then the map wrote one final line, slowly, painfully, as if carved into the paper:
THE FIRST TRAILWALKER AWAKES
MARKED BY THE FRACTURED SUN
Everyone slowly turned toward Qinglua.
And for the first time, Ken saw pure fear in his eyes.
The map trembled once more—then slumped onto the table, lifeless.
Qinglua exhaled shakily.
"…The Rewrite changed everything," he whispered.
Ken looked at him, voice cracking:
"Your Majesty… what haven't you told us?"
The fractured sun mark beneath Qinglua's skin pulsed—once.
And outside the war room, bells rang.
Not warning bells.
Memory bells.
Something had appeared on the eastern horizon.
Something enormous.
Something shaped like a ship.
But not built by Evalia.
Not built by Tilbara.
Not built by anything human.
Azuma whispered:
"…The world is rearranging itself."
Ken breathed deeply, trying to steady himself.
He didn't know it yet.
But this was only the first sign.
The map had more to say.
The myths had more to whisper.
And somewhere on the eastern shore—
someone watched the memory bells ring.
Someone wearing a black fox mask.
Someone who whispered:
"Found you."