The snow didn't stop.
Even after the battle ended, even after the last of the Rift-Beasts had fallen and their twisted remains dissolved into nothingness, the snow continued to fall—quiet, indifferent, endless.
Haruki stood still, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he stared at his trembling hands.
They weren't bleeding.
But they didn't feel like his.
Fragments of what he had seen still lingered in his mind—burning villages, shadows stretching across broken lands, and that distant, unreachable light. The images had faded, but the weight they left behind hadn't.
It pressed against his thoughts, heavy and suffocating.
"…Haruki."
Karin's voice pulled him back.
He blinked slowly, turning toward her. The glow in her hands had dimmed, but warmth still radiated faintly from her presence. There was concern in her eyes—more than he'd ever seen before.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Haruki opened his mouth to answer.
Nothing came out.
How was he supposed to explain something he didn't even understand himself?
"I…" He hesitated, then forced a weak nod. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Karin didn't look convinced.
Before she could press further, footsteps approached—calm, steady, deliberate.
The silver-haired man.
Haruki straightened instinctively as the man stopped a few steps away, his gaze sharp yet unreadable.
The faint crackle of energy around his eye hadn't faded.
"You're still standing," the man observed.
Haruki frowned slightly. "Was I supposed to fall?"
"For most," the man replied, "awakening the Eyes of Memories is enough to break them."
Silence settled between them.
Haruki didn't know whether to feel relieved… or more afraid.
"…You said something before," he muttered. "About my eyes."
The man studied him for a moment before answering.
"The Eyes of Memories are not like the others," he said. "They do not grant simple power. They grant awareness—of time, of possibility, of consequence."
Haruki's chest tightened.
"That doesn't sound like something I can control."
"It isn't," the man said plainly.
Karin crossed her arms, frowning. "Then what's the point? Giving someone power they can't even use properly?"
The man glanced at her.
"Because when mastered," he said, "they become something far more dangerous than any single element."
Haruki's gaze dropped slightly.
Dangerous.
The word echoed in his mind.
"…Who are you?" he asked quietly.
A brief pause.
Then—
"Raizen."
The name felt heavy somehow.
Like it carried history.
Raizen turned slightly, looking toward the fading Rift in the distance, now nothing more than a faint distortion in the air.
"These Rifts are increasing," he said. "And so are the ones who can stand against them."
Karin stepped forward slightly. "You mean people like us?"
Raizen didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze shifted back to Haruki.
"Not yet," he said.
The words stung more than Haruki expected.
But he didn't look away.
"…Then make us ready," he said.
Karin glanced at him, surprised.
Raizen's expression didn't change—but something in his eyes sharpened.
"You're asking for a path that will break you," he said.
"Then I'll endure it," Haruki replied.
No hesitation this time.
No doubt.
For a moment, the only sound was the wind.
Then Raizen turned fully toward them.
"Very well."
Karin blinked. "Wait—you're serious?"
"If they remain here," Raizen said calmly, "they will die. If they come with me, they may survive long enough to become useful."
"Wow," Karin muttered. "You really know how to motivate people."
Haruki almost smiled.
Almost.
Raizen began walking.
"Follow me," he said.
That was all.
No grand speech.
No reassurance.
Just a path forward.
Haruki looked back once.
At the village.
At the familiar rooftops buried beneath snow.
At the life he had always known.
It felt… smaller now.
More fragile.
Like something that could disappear at any moment.
Just like the visions he had seen.
"…Haruki."
Karin's voice softened.
He turned to her.
"You sure about this?" she asked.
He hesitated.
Not because he didn't know the answer—
But because he did.
"…No," he admitted.
Then he clenched his fists slightly.
"But I can't stay the same."
Karin stared at him for a second—
Then smiled.
"Good," she said. "Because I'm not letting you go alone."
He let out a quiet breath.
"Yeah… I figured."
Together, they turned—
And followed Raizen into the falling snow.
That night came quickly.
The further they moved from the village, the colder it felt—not just in temperature, but in presence. The forest stretched endlessly around them, shadows lengthening as the faint light of day vanished behind thick clouds.
They made camp beneath a cluster of heavy pines.
Karin lit a small flame in her palm, enough to keep the worst of the cold at bay. The soft orange glow flickered between them, casting shifting shadows across the snow.
Raizen stood a short distance away, silent as ever.
Watching.
Waiting.
Haruki sat near the fire, his gaze fixed on the flames.
"…It's still there," he muttered.
Karin glanced at him. "What is?"
"That feeling," he said. "Like… something's inside my head."
She didn't respond immediately.
"…Does it hurt?" she asked.
He shook his head slowly.
"No. It's just…" He struggled for the words. "Too much."
Karin's expression softened.
"You'll figure it out," she said. "You always do."
Haruki let out a quiet breath.
"I hope so."
The fire crackled softly.
The wind whispered through the trees.
And for a brief moment—
Things felt calm.
Then—
A flicker.
Haruki's eyes widened.
The fire—
Shifted.
No—
Time shifted.
For just a second.
The flame in front of him bent unnaturally, splitting into two overlapping moments—one where it burned steady, another where it flickered violently.
A second later—
It snapped back.
Haruki sucked in a sharp breath.
"…Did you see that?" he asked.
Karin frowned. "See what?"
He stared at the fire.
At his hands.
At the world that suddenly felt… unstable.
"…Nothing," he said quietly.
But deep down—
He knew.
This was only the beginning.