The battlefield was silent.

  The squad stood motionless, their bodies battered, their wills crushed.

  For the first time since their arrival, since they had begun fighting—

  There was no resistance left in their eyes.

  Only fear.

  And then—

  The wind moved.

  A soft, eerie breeze.

  Slow.

  Unnatural.

  It carried a weight that didn’t belong in this world.

  The air itself shifted, warping, twisting—

  Not chaotically, but deliberately.

  As if something was deciding to let itself be seen.

  The scene distorted.

  And then—

  A single hand swiped through the mist.

  In that instant, the battlefield vanished.

  The desote cityscape was repced by the deep, ethereal glow of the Chūkan Yūrei.

  The golden mist swirled through the vast, endless skies,

  Untouched by war.

  Untouched by ruin.

  Here, time was still.

  And in this stillness—

  A voice.

  “I think now is the time.”

  Koharu’s fingers twitched slightly, the glow of the Chūkan swirling around her palm.

  But her expression—

  Anger.

  She wasn’t calm.

  She wasn’t measured.

  She was pissed.

  “Did they forget everything we taught them?”

  Her voice was sharper than usual, ced with frustration.

  Across from her, Ayase let out a slow exhale.

  He leaned forward slightly, hands tucked into his robes, watching the battlefield below with a faint, tired smirk.

  “These young ones…” he mused. “They’re all so hopeless.”

  Koharu didn’t answer immediately.

  Her jaw tightened, her hands clenched at her sides.

  It wasn’t just frustration.

  It was disappointment.

  “Their cubes being destroyed should not have severed their resonance,” Koharu muttered.

  “Their forms—” she exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “They should have known. They should have been able to call them back. But Kuroda…”

  Her gaze darkened.

  “He’s broken them more than I thought possible.”

  Another voice joined in—one of the observing elders.

  Their tone quieter, more contemptive.

  “Kuroda has indeed become… a problem.”

  No one denied it.

  Even Ayase, who had been the most indifferent to the situation, let the weight of those words settle in.

  Finally, Koharu sighed, rubbing her temple before turning back toward the battlefield.

  “I suppose it is time.”

  She took a step forward.

  Then—

  Her fingers twisted through the air.

  A secret technique.

  The Chūkan warriors had their own sacred arts, long since hidden from the world.

  The Tenkai no Shingi—

  A technique that only the most attuned warriors of the Chūkan could use.

  One that could be used for induction.

  Koharu’s voice was steady, but there was something deeper in it now—

  Power.

  “Secret Art No.10—Tenkai no Shingi.”

  The golden air shifted.

  The mist around her swirled violently, condensing into a single, blinding sigil that formed beneath her feet.

  The seal of induction.

  Her eyes narrowed, and with finality, she spoke the command.

  “Induct.”