Mirror Dream Tree

At night, when the city sinks into silence and only the quiet steps of patrolling guards echo through the streets, Merin stands atop Asuna's tower, his eyes fixed on the inner walls below.

Unfamiliar runes shimmer faintly across the stone, etched into walls, streets, even rooftops—none of which bear the style or formation logic of Yanli, Asuna, or the others.

Though Merin deciphers the meaning of a few individual symbols, the full array eludes him, their configuration unlike anything he's seen.

He waits, calm and watchful, until a subtle shift catches his eye—the runes begin to glow red.

One by one, they connect in a vast network, drawing lines between the symbols within the city and those hidden around it, forming a massive array that pulses to life.

The air thrums as the array activates, draining the natural energy in the area to create a dead zone where spiritual energy becomes thin and unstable.

A domain of oppressive rules follows—chains of force, invisible but sharp, pierce through the city's defences and latch onto the five spiritual towers.

The towers dim, sealed from within, and Merin feels the shift as his own spiritual core is blocked, cutting him off from his origin liquid.

He watches as Yanli and the others emerge from their silent towers, joined by their students and city guards who spill into the streets and ascend the city walls.

After a brief exchange, they rally at the battlements just as the twelve enemy spiritual masters launch their assault.

But their confidence falters the moment three more spiritual masters—ordinary but unannounced—reveal themselves among the city's defenders.

With five titled spiritual masters and three more to bolster them, the city's power suddenly exceeds the invaders' expectations.

And they already know—this will not be an easy conquest—but the sudden appearance of three more Spirit Masters raises the difficulty from challenging to nearly impossible.

Still, the enemy holds the line, bolstered by the knowledge that support is coming, and they grit their teeth, maintaining formation and waiting for their hidden ace to strike.

The city bleeds—guards fall, buildings crumble, and civilians perish under the chaos—but Merin does not intervene yet, his golden eyes scanning, waiting for the true culprits behind the array to reveal themselves.

He doesn't wait long.

Four figures burst into action, cutting through the chaos and heading straight for Yanli and Asuna, aiming to eliminate the strongest defenders and turn the tide of battle.

At that moment, Merin moves.

Yanli's expression darkens, a second moonblade forming in her hand as she cleaves through an enemy spell, but she knows the odds have shifted—now she and Asuna are each facing four Spirit Masters alone.

She glances at Asuna, and in that instant, a silent understanding passes between them: their chances of victory are slim, and only one option remains—to call Kanoru.

Her mental energy brushes against the locket hidden beneath her robes, a small artefact imbued with a summoning spell by Kanoru himself, meant to signal him in times of dire need.

She prepares to break it.

But before her mental energy can shatter the locket, a sudden shift halts her—her spiritual core, once sealed, now flares to life, and her origin liquid flows freely once more.

Then the green arrows come.

They arc through the air like streaks of jade lightning, slamming into the enemies mid-cast.

Of the four attacking her, two manage to defend in time, one staggers from a shallow wound, but the fourth screams as an arrow pierces her arm—green fire erupts, devouring flesh and bone, and before she can suppress it, the entire limb vanishes in flame.

The battlefield freezes.

All eyes turn to the wall.

There, standing tall, a man watches them with unreadable calm, radiating quiet power, his presence stretching across the battlefield like a silent tide.

He simply stands atop the wall—Yet it feels as if the entire world holds its breath beneath his gaze.

Yanli and Asuna whisper together, breath catching, "Kanoru."

From within the city and beyond the walls, two joyful voices pierce the tension—Nora and Kuro cry out in unison, "Brother!"

A wave of whispers ripples outward, first among the defenders, then spreading like wildfire through the streets and over the battlements.

In the city, hope ignites; people rejoice, guards cheer; outside, the enemy stirs uneasily—some feel their hearts seize as if a primordial beast now watches them, one that could strike at any moment.

Whether in joy or dread, all whisper one name: "Dragon Master."

Among the attackers, faces split—some widen in panic, their thoughts already on escape; others harden with grim determination, especially the four who arrived last.

Yanli watches as Kanoru vanishes from the wall and reappears before an enemy, his punch slamming into the man's abdomen like a thunderclap, a beam of energy erupting from the point of impact and launching the enemy into the earth.

Vines burst from the ground, binding him down before he could even scream.

And then, like a storm given form, Kanoru moves from one enemy to the next—eleven in all—striking with precision, swiftness, and overwhelming force.

Even those who flee are brought down in moments, their fates no different.

When only the four new enemies remain, gathered and braced together, Kanoru halts a few paces away.

He does not attack immediately.

His voice, calm and cold, cuts through the tense night like a blade: "I can let the four of you go—but I want information. Tell me about the runes and that formation."

In response, the energy of the four enemies converges and rises, forming a shimmering virtual projection above them—four runes emerge: one cyan, one orange, one brown, and one dark blue.

Merin's eyes gleam with interest the moment he sees them.

He recognises the elemental affinities—cyan for wind, orange for fire, brown for earth, and dark blue for water—but there's something else pulsing beneath the surface of each rune.

A second, unfamiliar essence threads through them, faint at first, but growing clearer as the formation takes shape—an unknown element woven into the heart of every rune.

His curiosity sharpens.

As the runes synchronise, the hidden element becomes more prominent, resonating like a whisper turning into a chant.

Then, suddenly, the brown earth rune surges forward and blazes with intense light while the others fade into dim echoes.

The ground trembles—and in the next instant, hundreds of thousands of razor-sharp stones materialise and launch toward Merin in a howling storm of destruction.

He doesn't flinch.

The storm crashes into him, but not a single stone pierces his body.

Though he appears human, his skin is no longer skin.

Each cell has become a microscopic scale, indistinguishable to the eye but stronger than steel.

His muscle fibres and bones are forged like braided titanium, and even his organs and brain have transformed beyond the realm of mortals.

His mind now calculates ten times faster than it did at life level three, and over a thousand times faster than when he was just a boy.

On the walls, Yanli and the others watch the barrage with alarm, instinct urging them to leap in, to help—but Kanoru's calm voice enters their minds: Stay where you are.

When the storm of stone fades, Kanoru stands unscathed, not a speck of dust on him, his robe untouched by the chaos.

His cold voice drifts over the battlefield, cutting through the silence: "Stop wasting your time. Even your strongest attacks can't scratch my clothes."

The four enemies say nothing, but their eyes narrow.

The cyan rune pulses next, rotating Kanoru—and suddenly, countless wind blades spiral into existence and converge on him from all sides.

But just like before, they pass over him like whispers on stone.

Merin doesn't even blink.

This time, the wind attack is slightly stronger, enough to trigger a transparent energy shield that forms around his body and clothes.

Not to protect himself, but his clothes.

His scales are untouched, completely impervious—the shield is only to preserve the fabric draped over that indestructible form.

Then the air turns sharp, biting.

A freezing gust howls across the battlefield, and those nearby quickly retreat as the temperature plummets.

The ground turns slick with ice, frost spreads like veins through the earth, and even distant stone walls begin to crack and freeze.

The icy storm rages for minutes before it dies—and when the frost clears, Merin stands exactly where he was, unshaken and untouched.

Next comes the fire.

It howls through the air, hotter than magma, baking the earth until it crumbles and stone begins to melt into slag.

Yet still, Merin remains unharmed—bored, even.

He raises an eyebrow and says with casual disdain, "Is this all you've got?"

The four attackers grit their teeth.

They don't answer, but sparks begin to crackle across the formation and arc into the sky.

Where moments ago the sky was cloudless, thick storm clouds now roll in with supernatural speed, rumbling with fury.

For the first time, Merin's expression sharpens—serious.

He sees the flickering veins of violet-gold lightning and understands what's coming.

He feels it.

Real danger.

The sky howls—and a colossal bolt of thunder crashes down toward him.

Just before it strikes, Merin's body shifts, almost imperceptibly—his life structure twists, adapting.

He borrows from the thunder-swallowing whale, a beast known for devouring storms.

The lightning slams into him—and vanishes.

Swallowed whole.

Another bolt. Then another. And another.

Each one crashes down with divine fury—each one disappears into Merin's body like water into the sea.

His scales glow faintly, pulsing with absorbed energy.

He lifts his eyes to the trembling four, the faintest smile curling on his lips.