Ape of the Wilds

The Revenants were gone, but their presence still lingered, like a scent that refused to fade. The air in the chamber remained thick, heavy, the weight of something unseen pressing into the stone, into their bones.

Kuro didn't move immediately.

Because he knew.

This was not a victory.

It had never been a battle to win or lose.

It had been a test.

And he had been measured.

Kota exhaled sharply, running a hand down the blade of his dagger, as if making sure it was still there, still real. "That wasn't a fight," he muttered.

Sia nodded, but her grip on her bow remained firm. "They left because they got what they wanted."

Boru's fist clenched, his breathing slow, deliberate. "And what was that?"

Kuro finally straightened, rolling his shoulders, shaking off the last of the tension still lingering in his muscles.

"Me."

He didn't say it aloud.

Because they already knew.

The Revenants had looked at him, not as an enemy, not as prey—but as something recognized.

Something they remembered.

And that meant something far worse than any battle.

It meant that Kuro was no longer just a hunter in this ruin.

He was part of its story.

The chamber stretched ahead, the last remnants of golden light flickering along the walls, guiding them deeper into the unknown.

Kuro moved first, stepping toward the far side of the chamber, where the next passage waited. The moment his foot touched the threshold, the symbols along the walls shifted.

Not just in glow.

In meaning.

The symbols that had once been warnings, instructions, remnants of a lost age—

They now formed something new.

Something that hadn't been there before.

His name.

Carved into the stone like it had always belonged.

Kota saw it too, his golden eyes flicking between the markings. "They're rewriting this place."

Sia's expression darkened. "No," she murmured. "It was already written. It's just catching up."

Kuro exhaled, his claws flexing.

This ruin had been waiting for him.

And now, it knew he had arrived.

The corridor stretched downward, its walls smooth, untouched by time, unlike the rest of the ruin.

This place had not been abandoned.

It had been sealed.

And now, it was open again.

The deeper they walked, the more the whispers returned.

Not as threats.

Not as warnings.

But as memories.

And this time, Kuro understood them.

The words weren't random.

They were names.

Not names from stories, not names from ancient texts—but names that had been here before.

Names that had been written in stone and then forgotten.

And as he walked, as his hand brushed against the wall, he saw them fade.

One by one.

Until only his remained.

At the end of the corridor stood another chamber, vast and silent.

A second throne sat at the center, but this one was empty, its stone cracked, worn by time.

But Kuro knew.

Someone had sat here once.

Someone like him.

And now, they were gone.

The symbols on the walls changed again, shifting from names to words, carving themselves into the stone in real-time, as if the ruin itself was responding to his presence.

And the message they formed was simple.

"One returned."

"But one was never meant to."

"If you continue, you will no longer be Kuro."

"You will be what you were before."

Kuro's breath was steady, but heavy.

The ruin was giving him one final choice.

He could turn back now.

Or he could keep going.

And if he did—

He would learn the truth.

But he might lose himself in the process.

Kota finally spoke, his voice sharp, clear. "You don't have to do this."

Kuro's claws flexed.

"I do."

Then he stepped forward.

And the ruin sealed the path behind him.

The stone behind them sealed shut, the sound of grinding rock echoing through the chamber, final, absolute.

There was no turning back.

Kuro stood at the center of the vast, silent hall, his knuckles brushing the ground, his breath steady. His tail twitched, his claws flexed, but the weight in his chest was not from fear.

It was from recognition.

This place knew him.

And now, it was ready to show him why.

The empty throne at the center of the chamber was old—not in decay, but in a way that suggested it had not been abandoned, but left behind.

It had not belonged to a ruler.

It had belonged to a remnant.

And Kuro had been here before.

The thought came without warning, without force. It simply existed in his mind, a truth that had always been there, waiting for him to look directly at it.

The symbols along the walls shifted, forming words he had not read before, but somehow understood.

"The one who remains."

"The one who was erased."

"The one who was made anew."

"But a name cannot be forgotten forever."

"It only waits to be spoken again."

Kuro exhaled, his muscles tensing, because he knew—this was not a warning.

It was an invitation.

The air shifted, thickening like a storm gathering before the first strike of thunder. The golden glow of the symbols pulsed, flickering in unison, as if they were breathing, waiting.

Then—the throne moved.

Not physically.

Not by force.

But by presence.

As if something had been sitting there all along, unseen, waiting for him to reach this point.

Then, the voice returned.

"You are here at last."

Not from the walls.

Not from the whispers.

From inside his own mind.

"You have carried a name that was not yours."

"Now, it is time to remember what was taken."

The symbols on the walls blazed with light, filling the chamber with a glow that was not warm, not comforting—but absolute.

And then—the vision took him.

Kuro was no longer in the ruins.

He was standing in the burning city again, the one he had glimpsed before, the one that should not have existed.

But now—he was not watching from the outside.

He was inside the memory.

And this time, he was not Kuro.

He was someone else.

Someone who had once stood in this city as it fell.

Someone who had once fought, bled, and been betrayed.

Someone who had once sat upon that throne.

"Do you remember now?"

"Do you remember your name?"

The name burned into his mind, rising from the depths of his soul, from the pieces of himself that had been sealed away for longer than he could comprehend.

And for the first time, he saw his own face reflected in the past.

And he knew.

He had not stumbled into this ruin by accident.

He had been called back.

Because he had always belonged here.

And now—he would have to choose.

Would he remain Kuro?

Or would he take back what was once his?

The ruins held their breath.

The choice was his alone.

The burning city surrounded him, but Kuro did not feel the flames, did not hear the shouts of the fallen or the roar of collapsing stone.

Because this time, he was not a spectator.

He was within the memory.

And the body he wore was not his own.

Yet—it was.

His hands felt different. Larger. Stronger. His posture was heavier, his claws longer, his movements more certain, more deliberate, like his muscles remembered a time when they had belonged to something more.

He was not Kuro here.

He was something older.

Something that had been erased.

And now, the ruins had called him back.

He stood at the center of the city, a place that should have been a sanctuary, a stronghold, a last defense.

Instead, it was a graveyard.

The Maw'Tanu here had not fallen to an enemy army.

They had turned against one another.

Some still fought, their bodies warped, their movements wrong, shifting in ways that should not have been possible.

Revenants.

Not like the ones he had fought before.

These were the first.

The perfected ones.

And he had been here when it happened.

Because he had been the one who sealed them away.

His breath shuddered, his mind struggling to grasp the weight of the memory, but it was not something he could reject.

It was his.

And then—the voice returned.

"You remember now."

"You know what you were."

"What will you do with it?"

The flames shifted, the city fading, and Kuro was once again standing in the ruin's throne room, in the present, his breath still sharp, his fists clenched.

But the name remained.

A name that had once belonged to him.

A name that the jungle had tried to forget.

But now, it was his again.

And he had to choose.

Kota, Sia, Boru, Ruka, and Varek were still there, standing just beyond him, watching.

They had not seen what he had seen.

They had not felt the past pressing into their bones, had not been forced to carry the weight of something long erased.

But they had seen his face change.

They knew something had shifted.

And now, they were waiting for his answer.

Kuro exhaled slowly.

And then, he spoke.

"I remember."

His voice was steady, but heavier than before.

He turned, meeting their gazes, watching the uncertainty flicker in their eyes.

Kota's fingers twitched near his daggers. Not in threat—but in readiness.

Sia's bow remained in her hand, but her breath was slow, waiting.

Boru crossed his arms. "Alright, then. Who were you?"

Kuro's claws flexed.

And for a moment—he almost said the name.

The name that had once belonged to the Maw'Tanu who had sealed this place.

The name that had been forgotten by time.

The name that the jungle still whispered in the dark.

But then—he let it go.

He breathed in deep, steadying himself, feeling the weight of the past, but refusing to let it consume him.

"I was someone else once," he said, voice calm. "But I'm not him anymore."

He met Kota's eyes.

"I am still Kuro."

The air shifted, as if the ruins themselves had been waiting for his decision.

The golden symbols on the walls dimmed, but they did not fade.

Because they had heard his choice.

And they had accepted it.

Kota let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, Kuro. But if you start glowing or floating, I'm stabbing you first."

Sia shot him a sharp look. "We don't stab allies."

"Yet."

Boru chuckled. "I knew you were too stubborn to be anything but yourself."

Varek simply nodded. "Then we move forward."

Because the ruins had not finished with them.

The next door was already opening.

Not in invitation.

In expectation.

Because Kuro had chosen to remain himself.

But the jungle would not let go of him so easily.

And the deeper they went—

The more it would try to take him back.