That drum of war — its thunderous echo rolled across the mountain walls — ca from none other than Soma Niko, commander of the elite ranks. An old man… yet not so old. Wrinkled by ti but still carrying the sharpness of steel. Older than Hoshin Maru — and once, his equal. A man of unmatched rank, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ryden Ryuki himself.
Standing at the entrance of the Ryuki Dojo, Soma beat his war drum with a rhythm that shook the wind. The gatekeeper, young and proud, barred the way, his staff crossed before the gate."You can't enter," the guard barked. "No one disturbs Lord Hoshin."
But Soma just smiled — a wild grin spreading across his lined face. His voice carried through the courtyard, rough yet filled with joy. He looked up, and there, high above, stood Hoshin Maru, visible through the open balcony of the top chamber.
"Hey, Hoshin!" Soma's shout cracked through the cold air. "Long ti no see! Ten years — ten damn years since I last saw your face!"He raised a hand in an exaggerated wave, laughter bubbling through his words."Well, don't just stand there, boy. Let this old man in! I've got things to share — stories that'll twist your calm face into shock, you lil' brat!"
The gatekeeper's face twisted in fury. How dare he speak to the city's master like that? His hand moved to his blade — but Hoshin's voice cut through the rising tension."Stop. Let him enter."
Soma smirked, leaning toward the guard, poking his shoulder. "Hehe, you see, you see? Told you he'd let in. Now step aside, junior."
The massive doors creaked open, and Soma Niko stepped inside. His sandals touched the old stone floor — smooth, cold, sacred. His eyes wandered around, wide and gleaming."Wow… wow," he murmured, his voice softening for the first ti. "It's been so long since my eyes witnessed this dojo. Still feels the sa. Still breathes the sa air. Only a little older… like ."
The guard guided him toward the inner lift — a relic of old Ryuki magic. No strings, no pulleys, no sound — just rising light. The lift glowed with faint blue sigils and carried him silently upward, to the very top chamber — the Heart Room — where glass covered all four sides, offering a view of the whole city below.
As the door slid open, Soma stepped out and inhaled deeply. The room slled of tea, steel, and dust — the scent of discipline. He smiled faintly, closing his eyes as if greeting an old friend.
"It's , Hoshin," Soma said, spreading his arms, voice warm with mory. "How are you? Still keeping that cold face of yours?"
But Hoshin didn't smile. He didn't even blink. His eyes, sharp and tired, locked on Soma with quiet authority."Why are you here?" Hoshin asked, his voice like cut stone. "And what was that drum you were playing? You didn't co here for tea or talk. Speak fast, Soma. I don't want to waste my ti."
The old commander chuckled under his breath, glancing around the silent chamber. His fingers brushed across the glass wall as he admired the view."Still so impatient," he said softly, inhaling the air once more. "You don't even realize, Hoshin… how heavy the air is tonight."
The sound of that last sentence lingered like a warning — as if even the wind outside paused to listen.
Soma laughed, the sound bright and dangerous. "I have no interest in city politics. Who killed who, what happened where—that's not my circus. I live as I please. That alone troubles mages like you." He leaned in, eyes glittering. "But there's sothing I must tell you, straight from my bones."
Hoshin's eyes narrowed. "What do you an?"
Soma's grin widened. "Three months. The date you chose, and the date destiny chose—both are the sa. Did you hear about Ramuza? That massacre? It was his doing." He pointed, slow and sure. "The second child of Ryden—Auren Ryuki—will be the root of Ryuki City's destruction. I see far, Hoshin. Trust ."
The room grew colder, the light thinner. Hoshin's jaw tightened; the view outside the glass seed to dim. Soma's voice dropped, raw with warning. "He will enter Ryuki City and bring havoc. He is a terror—born from the darkest age, a thing that echoes the Grand Era itself. Do not fall for him, Hoshin. This is not a quarrel between houses. It is a storm that will swallow cities. You must stop him."
His hand trembled as he spoke, but a faint, almost sorrowful smile cracked across his face. "There is one chance," Soma added. "The first child of Ryden—Veon Ryuki. He was light in the Grand Era. He can stop Auren."
The silence after that line was absolute. The glass walls held the sound like a trap. Hoshin stared at Soma, the weight of prophecy and threat settling into his bones.
"Soma Niko," Hoshin said at last, slow and steady, "we know you. You do not speak lies."
Hoshin Maru's face softened, a rare heat moving through his stern features. "I always knew there was sothing special in Veon," he said, voice low. "He's always had a light that pulled at . Hearing you confirm it… It settles sothing inside ."
His eyes hardened with resolve. "Veon will be important. He's young, but at seventeen he already shines—brilliant beyond his years. The rate he's growing, the vita he's claiming… It's legendary. We will lean on him. He will be the future leader of Ryuki City."
A slow smile touched Hoshin's mouth, but it carried steel. "If this is true, then I am ready for Yuzen's battle. Bring whatever cos. We will et it."
"Why did you beat the drum of war?" Hoshin asked, voice flat but curious.
Soma's eyes glittered, the old grin returning. "Because war is absolute," he said. "But also because sothing… special will happen in this one. I can't say what. I only feel it. This drum is both a warning and a welco—a call to arms and a signal that the world is changing. About one month. That's all I can say. I'm excited for the war. For so of us, death and birth are the sa—both celebrations if you learn to see joy in everything." He laughed, a dry, wild sound.
Hoshin shook his head, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You and your riddles," he said. "Always talking like that. What a man." He paused, then waved him off. "Now go. Don't waste my ti."
Soma bowed lightly, then turned, drum slung over his shoulder. The echo of his laughter followed him down the corridor like a low thunder—an on and a promise both.
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