The Silver Lady manifested before Kuro and Mitsue, Unlike her usual appearance, the Silver Lady now looks only like a more mature version of Hinata... her illusion of power currently non-existent. Everyone held their breath in the cavern where Kuro had summoned her companions—a hidden nook in the mountains, the safest place she could find. For a few seconds, the image of the deity lingered now in simple modesty, but then it faded… and in its place remained the exhausted figure of a young Hinata.
She collapsed instantly. It was Mitsue who caught her with her thick tail, visibly shaken, her serpentine eyes locked on her mistress's body as if trying to confirm she was still alive. Kuro, wordless, gently licked Hinata's hand with a mix of worry and tenderness, but received no response. Though still conscious, Hinata was unable to speak or move. Her body bore the clear signs of battle: mild burns, deep scratches, and total exhaustion.
As her body rested, tended by Kuro and Mitsue, her mind was already working—threading through the Silver World, reorganizing its spaces, securing new prisons, and adjusting her intricate web to accommodate its latest residents. Thanks to her body's prodigious healing abilities, her injuries were already fading.
A few hours after arriving in the cavern, the first words came from the small figure of Hinata. "I suppose the mission was a success," she murmured, raising two fingers in a weak victory sign toward her two companions.
Mitsue said nothing. She simply lunged toward her in a trembling embrace—this time with no hesitation, forgetting that she was still at her full size. Even so, she took care not to squeeze too tightly. She had no intention of letting her go again.
Kuro, still silent, merely covered his one visible eye with a paw, his ears drooping to the sides as he released a long sigh—a blend of relief and reproach.
Hinata could only sigh in resignation as she tried to convince Mitsue to shrink down if she truly wished to hug her with such fervor.
The return to the Land of Iron was swift, thanks to Kuro, who dashed tirelessly through hidden mountain paths and forest trails.
<<<< o >>>>
On the road back to the Iron Capital, Hinata couldn't shake the feeling—her fingers clutched around the hilt of Shinsei, her expression shadowed by realization. The blade, once warm and steady with Kaito's essence, now pulsed weakly. The spiritual energy within was clearly diminished.
She had felt it in that instant.
How naïve she had been… How could she not have considered it? Energy does not appear from nothing. Kaito's vitality, stored within the blade, was finite. Preserved, yes, but not renewable. Not by ordinary means.
Hinata tried to channel her own vitality into the sword, and for a moment, Shinsei accepted it. But the energies refused to merge. Her life-force and Kaito's were fundamentally different. His spirit—formed from his protective instinct—Kaito's life-force sacrificed it-self to ignite my vitality. A protector until death.
She stopped her efforts.
She had to accept the truth: until she could find a way to nourish another's spirit as she did her own, Kaito's presence could only be summoned in critical moments. No more than that. Not yet.
With a quiet breath, she sheathed the sword again, the weight of responsibility—of love, sacrifice, and limits—settling anew in her heart.
<<<< o >>>>
The journey back to the Iron Capital was harder than it seemed—not because of obstacles on the road, but because of the weight Hinata carried within her.
Exhaustion seeped through her bones—both physical and spiritual. She could feel it, an undeniable tension thrumming within her connection to the Silver World.
The world itself was... unsettled.
Ever since the confrontation with Jiren, Hinata had sensed a growing awareness within the realm. During that battle, the Silver World had shown flashes of something beyond instinct—primitive sapience, emotions given shape. Now, that presence felt stronger, more willful... like a child in the throes of a tantrum.
And the root cause was clear.
It doesn't like being used as a prison, Hinata thought grimly.
The realm was harmony, evolution, sanctuary—not punishment. Keeping sixteen souls locked within its structure strained its essence. The threads of balance grew taut. The land itself whispered displeasure through every shimmering leaf, every crystalline ripple.
And though Hinata held an intimate bond with the realm, she found herself at a loss.
I don't know how to speak to you yet, she admitted silently. But I know the cost.
It was a burden she had no choice but to bear.
To lessen the strain, Hinata committed herself to long, grueling sessions in the Silver Stage, diving deeper into her attunement. There, she poured her strength into stabilizing the realm's energy, soothing its turmoil where she could.
Yet the wear grew heavier with each passing day.
As they traveled through forested passes and windswept roads, her hand often strayed to the hilt of Shinsei—a subtle reminder of the fragile balance between life and spirit. His companions noticed her fatigue, but none of them acted on it.
But they knew: Hinata was fighting a battle unseen by the world around her.
And the Silver World… was watching.
<<<< o >>>>
The sound of soft footsteps echoed in the stillness of the prison.
Tenshō opened his eyes, surprised to see Reika enter. It had not been announced. He wasn't expecting visitors that day.
"Reika... how...?"
She smiled slightly, approaching cautiously. "I insisted. I asked to speak with the silver lady… and she agreed."
Tenshō lowered his gaze. "You should have used that privilege for something more valuable. Not for a traitor."
Reika knelt in front of him, unafraid. "Perhaps you are a traitor. But you are still human. And no one should face darkness alone."
Her voice, simple but sincere, seeped into the deepest corners of Tenshō's heart. For the first time, something warm ignited within him.
From that day on, Reika became his constant light in the long night of the Moon Realm.
<<<< o >>>>
The Silver World shimmered under a pale, dreamlike glow.
At its heart—the Crystal Tower—rose tall and serene, crowned by the sacred tree at its summit. The silver leaves of the tree pulsed softly with the rhythm of the world beneath it, a heartbeat of light.
At the center of the tower, beneath the silvery canopy, the moonlight cascaded like a gentle waterfall, bathing everything in its glow. Within this sacred space, two figures sat quietly:
Hinata Gin, her black hair loose about her shoulders, a weary but determined gleam in her eyes.
And beside her, Michel, the ever-watchful guardian and guide, the lines of his face softened by thought as he gazed out at the shifting silver mist.
They were seated within the temple of the Moon, tonight It was a space only for words.
Hinata broke the silence first, her voice low, the exhaustion beneath it barely concealed.
"I... brought news," she began, drawing a slow breath. "But I'm afraid... I'm barely able to do anything about it."
Michel turned to her fully, concern flickering in his eyes.
Hinata continued, her fingers resting lightly against the polished floor beneath her.
"Even here... I can barely stand outside the Silver Nodes of the land," she admitted. "In the real world, my body is... drained. Almost hollow. The only thing that helps even a little is entering the Silver Stage... but it feels like the Silver World is drinking my energy. Greedily. More and more with each passing day."
Michel nodded slowly, folding his hands over his knees.
"I've seen it," he said quietly. "And now that the consequences are clearer... I'll admit I'm no longer as certain about our choices. But—" he met her eyes, steady and calm, "I still believe your decision wasn't wrong. In fact... it was a graceful solution, given the tools and instincts you had at the time."
Hinata lowered her gaze, a flicker of doubt crossing her features.
"But what's happening here...?"
Michel exhaled, long and thoughtful. "I'll confess... I had been curious about the idea of holding someone here for an extended period. I've long wanted to test whether it was possible, whether the Silver World could sustain it."
He gave a wry smile. "If you hadn't done it first, little one... I would have suggested it to you soon enough. Perhaps... experimenting with keeping prisoners inside a Plate Point, stabilized and contained."
Hinata's tired laugh was soft but genuine. "So I was just faster than you this time..."
Michel chuckled. "For once, yes." His expression grew more thoughtful. "But now that we know... that this world has awareness—perhaps even sapience—that changes everything."
He glanced upward at the shimmering canopy of silver leaves.
"It makes me wonder... does the world we came from have such awareness too? Perhaps it does, but in ways we can't yet perceive."
Hinata leaned back slightly, eyes half-lidded, her voice faint but certain.
"Another thing… if this world truly has a soul... a will of its own... shouldn't it have a name?"
Michel blinked. Then he smiled, a warm, approving glimmer in his gaze.
"You're right," he said. "We've called it 'the Silver World' for so long, but... it's no longer just that. Not anymore."
"And since you, little one, are its creator—its pilar—you should be the one to name it."
Hinata's breath caught for a moment. Her eyes lifted to the vast branches above, the silver light swaying softly like waves in a great sea of stars.
A name… for her world. For the living, breathing place she had shaped, and which now looked back at her.
Her lips parted, but no words came yet.
Michel smiled knowingly.
"Take your time," he said gently. "A parent should not name their child in haste."
And the Silver World—alive, listening—seemed to hold its breath.