Fog rolled over the ruined courtyard like a living thing, curling around Ryuu's ankles as he stepped forward. The last echoes of the fight faded—shattered stone settling, dying qi sparks flickering out. His heartbeat slowed, the Cruel Persona slipping back into dormancy like a beast returning to its cage.
He exhaled once, long and controlled.
The other me is satisfied for now.
The quiet returned.
Across the courtyard, Lanri was kneeling beside the unconscious girl they had rescued—thin, dirt-stained robes, wrists marked by iron shackles. Her shallow breaths fogged the cold air.
"Her vitals are stable," Lanri said after a moment, standing. "But she hasn't woken. Whatever the cultists did drained her core almost completely."
Ryuu crouched beside the girl. Her aura was fragile, flickering… but underneath, something pulsed. Not qi. Not mana. A third rhythm entirely.
He narrowed his eyes.
A Gatewalker aura.
She was one of them—another who carried the spark that let souls drift between worlds.
Lanri noticed his stare. "You recognize her?"
"No," Ryuu said truthfully. "But she's… like me."
Lanri's eyes widened. "Another of the few…"
Ryuu nodded.
And inside him, quiet but sharp, the Cruel Persona whispered:
Interesting. A pawn, or a threat?
He ignored it.
The Path Back
They left the cultist hideout behind, climbing back toward the higher terraces of Tianluo's mountain. Wind tugged at Ryuu's clothes, crisp and cold, carrying the metallic scent of qi storms in the distance.
Lanri walked beside him, arms folded.
"So," she said. "About what you did back there."
Ryuu didn't answer immediately.
His other self had surfaced like a flash of steel—cold, monstrous, overwhelming. Efficient, yes, but also terrifying in a way he rarely admitted.
Lanri continued, voice steady. "I've fought alongside dozens of cultivators, Ryuu. None shift like you do. Your eyes change. Your aura changes. Even the air pressure shifts." She turned to him. "Is it safe?"
Safe?
The Cruel Persona chuckled dryly inside him.
"I'm in control," Ryuu said at last.
"Are you?"
He didn't respond. Couldn't respond. Because he wasn't sure.
Not fully.
But Lanri didn't press. She simply walked beside him in silence, as though her trust remained intact.
And that was somehow worse.
The Mountain Gate
They reached a stone archway carved into the mountain, its frame pulsing faintly with sigils. A concealed Tianluo exchange point. A place from which certain individuals—Gatewalkers—could cross naturally.
Ryuu placed his hand on the cold stone.
The world rippled.
Light thinned.
Sound bent.
And the veil split.
Ætheris — A City in Motion
They emerged in the hidden alley beneath the Ætheris metro line, mana-lamps flickering above them. Cars hummed overhead, neon signs reflecting on wet pavement. The air smelled of ozone and rain—familiar, grounding.
Ryuu's two existences slid back together like overlapping images.
Here, his school uniform didn't look out of place.
Here, he could breathe normally.
Lanri stepped forward cautiously, hood low. "Your world is… loud."
"It gets worse at rush hour," Ryuu said.
She blinked, uncertain if that was a joke.
The rescued girl stirred in Lanri's arms, her fingers twitching weakly. Her lips parted.
"…Gate… walker…"
Then she fell silent again.
Ryuu exchanged a look with Lanri. The tension between worlds thickened.
The Observatory's Shadow
Instead of going home—dangerous after recent events—Ryuu led them through twisting streets until they reached an abandoned observatory on a hill overlooking the city. A secret hideaway he'd claimed years ago.
The metal door screeched as he pushed it open.
Inside: dust-coated telescopes, broken glass, stacks of old star charts. A perfect place to keep someone safe… or interrogate them when the time came.
He laid the girl on a makeshift cot and checked her pulse.
It was stronger now.
Lanri lit a mana-lamp, soft white glow filling the room.
"She'll wake soon," Lanri said.
Ryuu nodded—
—and froze as the girl suddenly sat up, gasping.
Her eyes locked onto his.
And in her gaze, he saw recognition.
"You…" she whispered. "You carry the Twin Soul."
Ryuu stiffened.
Lanri grabbed her weapon but did not move closer.
The girl's voice trembled. "They… they were hunting you. The cult. The fragments. The watchers between worlds. All of them. Because you're the one who—"
She stopped, choking on air, clutching her chest as if an invisible hand squeezed her lungs.
Ryuu moved forward. "What's happening?"
Her eyes rolled back. "They marked me… so I wouldn't betray them…"
A black sigil flared on her neck.
Lanri swore. "It's a curse seal!"
Ryuu reached out—
Then the world snapped white.
A pulse of corrupted mana exploded outward, shaking the observatory. The sigil writhed like a living thing, burning her skin.
Ryuu reacted by instinct.
Not the gentle one.
The other.
The Cruel Persona surged awake.
Finally.
His hand shot to her neck, fingers steady, aura turning razor-sharp. Dark qi seeped from his fingertips, surrounding the sigil, isolating it. For a moment, Ryuu wasn't himself. He was something ancient and merciless, something that understood curses like a mother tongue.
Lanri stepped back. "You—your aura…!"
The sigil cracked.
Shattered.
Dissolved into smoke.
The girl collapsed, breathing wildly—but alive.
Ryuu let out a slow exhale as the Cruel Persona receded again.
Lanri stared at him with a mix of awe and fear. "That… wasn't normal cultivation. Or magic."
"I know," Ryuu said softly.
The girl trembled, lifting her head.
"You can break their seals…" she whispered. "Then you truly must be—"
She stopped suddenly.
Her eyes widened.
"—the one the cult calls The Split Sovereign."
Silence swallowed the room.
Ryuu's heartbeat slowed.
Lanri slowly gripped her blade. "Their prophecy… said that name."
The girl nodded weakly. "They say the Split Sovereign will either save both worlds… or destroy them."
Ryuu felt the weight settle on his shoulders like an iron cloak.
A prophecy.
A mark.
A destiny he never asked for.
The Cruel Persona's voice curled through his mind, low and amused.
How delightful. They fear us, Ryuu.
Lanri took a step toward him, expression unreadable.
"Ryuu… is this true?"
He didn't answer.
Because deep inside—
—he feared the answer too.