The Echo of the Moon

"...."

Shija did not waver. Despite the unreal nature of the environment, his warrior instincts kicked in with absolute precision.

(He knows my name...)

He stood in a low guard position, his body leaning forward with the grace of a predator about to spring. His right arm extended the blade of pale light with supernatural steadiness; the tip of the blade, imbued with that emerald edge, pointed directly at the hooded figure's throat, without the slightest hint of a tremor.

(Vum... vum... vum...)

The hum of the blade was the only sound competing with the fluttering of the butterflies.

"What do those words mean?"

Shija could feel his astral essence vibrating in sync with the weapon; there was no weight in his muscles, only a constant pressure in his will.

"Exactly what I said."

In response, just a few meters away, the figure remained impassive, like a statue of ancient cloth defying the hostility of the landscape.

(Sssss-whish...)

Under the tense atmosphere that now hung between both parties, the chocolate wind blew again with greater intensity, like a thick current that rippled the stranger's robe and stirred the wisps of bluish vapor emanating from Shija's shoulders.

"Who are you, and why do you mention my name in this place?"

The sweet and bitter aroma of cocoa became almost suffocating, clinging to Shija’s spectral skin as he asked, while particles of gray ash danced between them, marking the distance of a deadly thrust that Shija was more than willing to execute.

"My, my..."

But in that moment, where the cocoa-laden air seemed to freeze between them...

"I am truly surprised."

The figure let out an exhalation that might as well have been a suppressed laugh, seizing that split second.

(VROOOM-SHOOOOM!!)

In which the figure simply vanished.

"¡¿?!"

There was no movement of the feet, no tilt of the body; only the sound of a compressed burst, leaving behind a trail of visual distortion, as if space itself had folded in on itself.

(Fuuut!)

Nevertheless, Shija, through his perfected perception, sensed the energetic wake of the movement's flow like a blurred shadow that his body was unable to react to with the same speed.

"It seems you are still green..."

In the end, Shija's eyes had not even finished widening when he felt a pressure on his left shoulder.

(Zzzz-tap)

The contact was light, yet Shija felt a discharge of energy that caused his essence to flicker violently.

"Have you calmed down?"

The hooded man was there, just inches away, with a hand resting on his shoulder while Shija continued to point at the void where the figure had been a blink ago.

(He's fast!)

The speed hadn't been physical; it had been an existential blur that left Shija completely exposed, revealing that, despite his new sword, he was still an apprentice on a game board much larger and more dangerous than he had imagined.

(...Ba-dump...)

The pressure of that hand on his shoulder was not heavy, yet the energy emanating from it felt like a mountain suspended upon a single hair.

(No... it wasn't just speed. His posture... even now that he's by my side, I can't detect a single opening. His center of gravity, the way the wind seems to avoid him... This man is, clearly... superior).

Shija’s internal monologue was a flurry of gelid conclusions. He understood that if that figure had possessed murderous intent, his astral essence would have been scattered into particles before he could even blink.

(It's useless. In this state, I am like a child waving a stick in front of a hurricane. If he wanted to incapacitate me, he would have done so already).

Understanding his situation, Shija, with a logic-forced calm, relaxed the tension in his fingers.

(FSSS-SHHH!)

In response to that action, his sword disintegrated, returning to his core in a sigh of particles.

"You're right."

Then Shija, lowering his arm and without turning his gaze from the void in front of him, accepting the presence at his side, spoke again.

"I am green..."

His voice no longer held its previous aggressiveness, but rather a seriousness heavy with a bitter respect.

"Someone with your capability clearly still surpasses me."

Shija remained motionless, feeling the chocolate aroma grow more intense as he slowly turned his face with an expression full of determination.

"So I will ask you once more, with the seriousness that your level demands... Who are you?"

"My..."

Faced with Shija’s gelid determination and honest analysis, the figure let out a sigh; but this time it wasn't one of mockery. Instead, it was a whisper laden with genuine relief, like that of a master finding a spark of hope among the ashes.

"Perhaps you aren't as green as I thought."

(Fsss-shoo!)

With those words, and at the same terrifying speed as before, the pressure on Shija's shoulder vanished.

"At least you have the eyes to see the abyss before falling into it."

In a blink that left a trail of distortion in the air, the figure was already several meters away again, resuming his original position with a lazy elegance.

"Who am I?"

The chocolate wind, which had felt suffocating before, now began to blow with an almost nostalgic softness, caressing the stranger's robe.

(Sssss-whish...)

The wind stirred the fabric as the hood fell back, revealing his face.

"I am just a warrior who took part in a war... and lost."

He had messy hair and an expression of eternal weariness etched into his features; his eyes reflected the gaze of someone who has seen empires fall and has survived only to remember it.

"I am but a specter of the past."

His appearance was that of a man who, despite his immense power, seemed to prefer the shade of a tree to the glory of battle.

"A residue of what honor once was, trapped in this corner of madness."

The man observed Shija for a second longer before reaching into the folds of his robe.

"I am..."

Then, he pulled out a small paper cylinder—something Shija had never seen in his life—and brought it to his lips.

(Flick-tsss!)

With an expert motion, he produced a small flame.

"...."

Shija watched with curiosity as the tip of the object ignited into an ember-red, releasing a grayish smoke that intertwined strangely with the sweet air of the place.

"My name..."

(...Fuuu...)

The man took a deep drag and then released a dense cloud of smoke that the chocolate wind lazily dispersed.

"Is Yumemaru Tamenari."

Upon hearing those words, the world seemed to stand still for Shija.

"What did you say...?"

His pupils contracted, and a jolt of incredulity and fury surged through his astral body, causing his pale light to flash violently.

(KRA-SHING!)

Before Yumemaru could release another puff of smoke, Shija exploded.

(CLANG-VREEE!)

The energy sword materialized in his hand with a sonorous blast, paralleling Shija’s fluid movement as he shifted laterally, closing the distance in a sigh of blue vapor. He twisted his body, concentrating all his indignation into a descending horizontal slash aimed at the man's neck.

"Calm down..."

However, the impact produced neither blood nor the sound of flesh being sliced.

"Don't toy with me!"

Yumemaru hadn't even moved from his spot. With an infuriating parsimony, he had raised his left hand, stopping Shija’s incandescent blade simply with the tip of his index finger.

(CLANG-KASHA-VREEEEEE!!)

Despite that, Shija did not hold back. The slash was a perfect execution, laden with the weight of his pride and his contempt. The blade of pale light cut through the air with a deadly whistle, but upon impacting the man's finger, the world seemed to explode into metal.

(SKREEEE-CHHHH!!)

The sound was deafening, a metallic dissonance that vibrated through Shija’s astral bones. It wasn't a simple block; it was as if he had struck a mountain of tungsten while energetic sparks flew from the point of contact, screeching violently as the blade desperately tried to penetrate the specter's phalanx.

"That name belongs to the Founder of the Kyōgetsu style! The legendary warrior who perfected the art of the moon!"

Faced with Shija’s furious cry, Yumemaru’s face showed no indignation, but rather a grimace of self-contempt.

"Heh... Legendary warrior?"

A dry, bitter laugh escaped his lips, releasing a puff of smoke that dissipated under the pressure of the steel.

"Such grand words for someone who ended up as scraps in the corner of someone else's nightmare."

In that instant, the combat dynamic shifted.

(ZING-KRAK!)

Without moving the rest of his body, Yumemaru slightly flexed the finger he was using to block.

"...."

The movement was so subtle and potent that Shija’s sword vibrated at an unbearable frequency, leaping from his hands as if struck by a giant mallet.

(VROOOOOM!)

And before Shija could even process that he had been disarmed, Yumemaru attacked. He didn't use a fist or a palm; he simply projected that same finger forward with such speed that the air exploded in a sonic boom.

(BOOOOM-THUD!!)

The impact on Shija’s chest was devastating. His astral body was sent flying backward, hurtling through the air like a projectile before crashing against the ground of ash and dried flesh, kicking up a column of gray dust.

"¡¡¿?!!"

Shija tried to stand, but then it happened.

"Look at me closely, boy."

Yumemaru took a step forward, and the atmosphere of Wonderland collapsed. A monstrous pressure, heavy and gelid like the vacuum of space, fell upon Shija’s shoulders, pinning him to the earth.

"You have before you the loser who received that title."

The emerald sky seemed to darken, and the butterflies stopped fluttering, frozen by that man's aura.

"You have before you the legend who failed to protect everything he loved."