Amber of its cruelity

Tai stands over the splintered wooden posts — sweat dripping, fists raw but steady. Yue Ying watches him, arms folded, faint respect in her eyes.

Yue Ying:

"It's not about power alone. The sea — the stone — the wood — all of it forced you to find your balance. Now you see it, don't you?"

Tai breathes out, nodding, a grin breaking through his exhaustion.

---

Later — final test

The courtyard hums with cold wind. Tai stands barefoot opposite Jin Jang — the older warrior calm, hands loose at his sides.

Jin Jang (smirking):

"Ready, boy? Careful you don't break more than wood this time."

Tai tightens his stance, remembering Yue Ying's voice — "Focus. Be still. Be fierce."

Jin Jang moves first — a blur — Tai's eyes snap open, foot slides, palm blocks — Tiger Claw! Jin staggers back, then sweeps low — Tai dodges, both fists meet in a clash that echoes across the yard.

They freeze — then both stumble back, breath heavy — and laugh.

Yue Ying (calling out):

"Good. It's not about who falls — it's about who stands up clear."

Tai looks at his hands — at the faint glow beneath his skin — the dragon spark, balanced now, not raging.

He bows to Jin Jang, then to Yue Ying.

---

Moments later — Kisdain Headquarters

Tai steps through the old wooden door, the sun setting behind him. Hiroshi sits at his desk, piles of reports at his side.

Hiroshi lifts his head — sees Tai's steady stance, the calm in his eyes.

A slow, gentle smile spreads on Hiroshi's face.

Hiroshi:

"So... you're back, huh? Finally."

Tai lets out a breath — the ghost of the cold sea still on him — and nods.

Tai (soft, but certain):

"Yeah. I'm back."

Scene

Location: A rippling distortion shatters the dark — light bends — then silence. Kon stands at the edge of an ancient forest, his black coat brushing cold snow. Beside him, Victor adjusts his gloves; Fuko breathes out fog; Hazo, the quiet sentinel, stands behind them — cloak fluttering in the cold wind.

The moon glows over Sighișoara, Transylvania. Stone towers. Twisting streets. The smell of old blood still trapped in the wood and earth.

Kon steps forward — crunch of boots on frost. His eyes drift over a crude wooden sign — 1476.

He smiles, faint but sharp.

Kon (quietly):

"So… after four days, it's ready."

He turns — Victor and Fuko bow their heads.

Victor:

"As you wished, my lord. The gem's merge was perfect — we walk where you command."

Fuko (grinning):

"Time folds when you hold the blade, my lord. Even Dracula's grave cannot hide forever."

Kon lifts his gloved hand, the air hums — like distant screams locked in ice.

Kon:

"Sighișoara. 1431 — he was born in a fortress above these hills."

(he glances at the old spires, flickering torches in the village below)

"But we stand in 1476… the year the butcher-king dies. Two days from now… his blood ends here."

Kon closes his eyes for a moment, listening — as if the past itself whispers to him.

Kon (cold smile):

"And we will decide if that death stays the same."

Hazo steps forward — silent, mask half-hidden under his hood.

Victor kneels, head bowed so low his breath frosts the snow.

Victor:

"Command us, Lord Kon. The old body — the soul — the hidden crypts — all shall be yours."

Kon doesn't answer immediately — he looks up at the moon, one gloved hand brushing his violin case strapped at his side.

The wind blows. The trees creak. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howls — old Europe, old hunger.

Kon (softly, to himself):

"Two days more. And then the real hunt begins…"

He lowers his gaze — the smile never leaves.

CUT TO BLACK