Yuto’s gaze locked onto the direction Shinny had pointed, his attention cutting through the drifting haze of dust and sand that rolled across the wasteland in slow, uneven waves as though the land itself was exhaling.

At first, there was nothing but distortion, a smear of shadow moving through the shifting veil of particulate light. Then, gradually, something began to take shape within it.

A silhouette.

Dark, still, partially swallowed by the restless sand that seemed to cling to it rather than simply pass around it, as if even the desert hesitated to fully reveal what it was seeing.

"Is it me," Tami muttered beside him, adjusting his stance, "or is that getting closer?"

Yuto narrowed his eyes, trying to separate illusion from movement, forcing his focus through the wavering air where heat, dust, and light constantly distorted distance and depth.

The figure was not stationary.

It was approaching.

Unhurried.

Measured.

As though the instability of the ground beneath it, the fractures spreading through the desert, and the violent tremors rippling through the earth meant nothing at all.

"No," Yuto said at last, his voice low. "It’s not you."

The silhouette continued forward, each step dissolving briefly into dust before reforming again, the air around it growing heavier in a way that made the space feel compressed, as though its presence was altering the density of the world rather than simply moving through it.

Before anyone else could react, Maya stepped forward.

"What are you doing?" Yuto called immediately, his attention snapping toward her as she moved past the others without hesitation.

She did not turn back.

"Don’t worry," she said calmly, her voice steady despite the instability beneath their feet. "Just trust me."

The figure drew closer.

With each step forward, the dust began to thin, as if reluctantly giving up its attempt to conceal what was coming into view. The outline sharpened first, then the form beneath it, until the illusion of ambiguity finally collapsed entirely.

Human.

That realization came first, bringing with it a brief and fragile easing of tension that lasted only a heartbeat before being replaced by something far more cautious. A human presence in a place like this did not guarantee safety. It could easily be a beast taking on a human form.

As the figure emerged fully from the drifting sand, that caution tightened into something sharper.

The man wore a plain grey robe that hung loosely from his frame, its fabric worn and frayed at the sleeves as though it had endured far longer than it should have. A rough rope belt cinched it at the waist, and beneath the hem, partially concealed by the shifting cloth, rested a short blade secured at his side.

His face was marked by exhaustion that seemed deeply ingrained rather than temporary, unshaven and weathered, with a long scar cutting from his cheek down toward his jaw, pulling his expression into something permanently hardened.

He stopped at a distance that was neither close nor distant, as though he had chosen a point that allowed him to speak without immediately provoking reaction.

Then he spoke.

"My name is Shinto."

His voice was calm, but it carried an unusual weight, not loud, not aggressive, yet firm in a way that suggested certainty rather than introduction.

"I can sense you’ve been to the cave with the markings."

Yuto’s posture shifted subtly at the words, his awareness sharpening immediately as the implication settled in.

Shinto’s gaze moved across each of them in turn, slow and deliberate, as though he was assessing not just their presence but their intent, their direction, and perhaps even their worth.

"You’re following the same path I am," he continued, voice steady. "Which means you’re after the same thing."

Yuto studied him carefully now, no longer treating him as a chance encounter but as a variable that needed to be understood. There was something about the man’s certainty that felt dangerous, not reckless, but grounded, like someone who had already decided the outcome of any confrontation long before it began.

If they confirmed they were after the gemstone, there was no guarantee this would remain a conversation. In a place like this, shared goals did not create alliances, they created competition.

Yuto opened his mouth, intending to deflect, to redirect, to deny enough truth to avoid escalation.

"We’re not after—"

"Wait," Tami interrupted.

He stepped forward slightly, his earlier caution giving way to impulsive curiosity.

"You know about the gemstone too?"

Maya closed her eyes briefly, her hand lifting to her face in a small, controlled gesture of frustration that was almost imperceptible but unmistakably present.

Yuto followed a moment later, exhaling under his breath.

"Crap," he muttered quietly.

Shinto’s expression shifted.

The faintest curve formed at the edge of his mouth, not warm, not amused in any human sense, but coldly certain.

"So," he said slowly, as though confirming a conclusion he had already reached, "you are after what I’m after."

The air seemed to tighten around them.

Even the wind felt momentarily reduced, as though the desert itself was listening more closely.

"That’s unfortunate," Shinto continued, his tone remaining calm. "I don’t like competition."

His hand drifted closer to the hilt of his blade, not fully drawing it, but making its presence known in a way that did not require words.

"I’ll have to kill you."

Yuto’s eyes narrowed immediately. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"Why do you see us as competition?" he asked, his voice firm but controlled. "We all need the stone to get back home. If anything, we should be working together."

Shinto tilted his head slightly, as though considering something distant rather than present, then let out a quiet laugh.

It carried no warmth.

Only emptiness.

"Home?" he repeated. "Which home are you talking about?"

He spread his arms slightly, the motion slow and deliberate, as if presenting the world around them as evidence.

"This place is my home," he said. "I don’t need the stone to leave it."

Silence settled heavily between them.

Tami frowned,

"Then what do you need it for?"

Shinto’s expression shifted again, the faint trace of amusement fading entirely.

"Have you ever heard of Ōinaru Mono?"

The name lingered in the air without response.

None of them spoke.

After a moment, Shinto nodded once to himself.

"I see. No."

He exhaled slowly, disappointment subtle but present, as though they had failed a basic understanding he expected them to possess.

"Ōinaru Mono was once the most powerful sorcerer in this world," he said. "The true ruler of everything here."

His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, not drawing it yet, but grounding himself through it.

"I need the stone to free him."

The desert trembled faintly beneath them, as if reacting to the weight of the name itself.

Shinto cracked his knuckles slowly, each sound sharp in the stillness.

"I’ve answered your questions," he said at last. "Now you should prepare to die."

Maya moved instantly.

Her sword cleared its sheath in a single fluid motion, her stance lowering as her body shifted into a combat-ready position with practiced precision, the calm composure she usually carried replaced by something colder and more immediate.

"Good luck with that," she said, her voice steady and sharp.

Yuto turned slightly toward her, surprised by how quickly she had stepped forward into confrontation without hesitation or delay.

Shinto only smiled wider.

Then he stamped his foot into the ground.

The desert answered.

The earth fractured beneath them in an instant, not cracking slowly or warningly, but collapsing inward as though something vast beneath the surface had finally exhaled.

There was no time to adjust, no time to react, no time to even fully register the change.

The world simply fell away.

And swallowed them.