The silence after the explosion of energy was not one of calm, but of total absorption.
Lyra, still beside the altar, felt the earth tremble beneath her feet. It wasn't an earthquake, but a deep resonance, as if the very roots of the world had responded to the sealed pact. The stones of the amphitheater quivered slightly, and the air filled with a mute electricity before silence swallowed everything whole.
Arata lay unconscious.
Lyra approached cautiously. The black shell he held now bore a fissure from top to bottom, as if the inner tension had reached its limit. The boy, however, was unharmed, the fragment still in his hand.
Lyra knelt and gently took him into her arms, resting his head on her lap. She waited.
When Arata opened his eyes, Lyra let out a quiet gasp.
For an instant, his eyes were not human. The iris spun like a vortex of cosmic indigos and purples, and the pupil was a fissure of darkness speckled with silver and golden light. The forest light reflected in them as though they were staring into another plane of existence.
"What… what happened?" Arata murmured, still dazed.
Lyra stared at him in awe.
"Your eyes… they've changed."
Arata touched his face, confused. He remembered the pressure, the darkness. To the touch, the strange vibration he had felt in his left eye since the healing had settled. The color of his eyes returned to their previous tone, though now with an unusual clarity.
"When I touched the shell… I felt like the world was crushing me. Then I woke up in a strange place. I saw a gigantic eye… heard its voice. It called itself Ten'ryuu. A dragon. Its body was sealed."
Lyra listened carefully. Pacts like this didn't happen. What he described was a bond sealed beyond the physical plane.
"A dragon…" she whispered. "One of the fourteen legendary creatures. You've formed a pact, Arata."
Arata repeated the word, still not fully understanding.
"Pact? What does that mean?"
"It means you now have a Familiar. But in a… unique way. Show me your mark."
"My… mark?"
Without waiting for an answer, Lyra unbuttoned his shirt. As it slid down, it revealed a vast black mark on his back. At the center, an abyssal eye seemed to stare at the world. Above it, a dragon of compressed darkness rose with curved horns, surrounded by spiral filigree that shimmered like stars.
Lyra held her breath. She had never seen anything so complex or so large. She ran a finger over the mark; latent energy vibrated under her touch.
"This is not common. It's… legendary."
Arata tried to see it, but couldn't. Lyra dressed him again, her expression growing serious.
"We must leave. I'll take you to the village. Now."
The journey was different. Arata's body no longer hurt. He felt a strange lightness, as if the pressure of the world now felt natural.
They walked along hidden paths, through branches that formed tunnels and underground rivers that whispered beneath their feet.
Until they arrived at Komorebi-no-Mura.
The elven village seemed fused with nature. Houses carved into trees connected by vine bridges. Crystal-clear streams crossed moss gardens and stone altars. The air smelled of pine and wildflowers.
The elves looked at him cautiously. Many had never seen a human before. The whispers followed him: "short ears," "the outsider." Without malice—just wonder.
Lyra brought him before Satoru, the elder leader. His skin was weathered by the centuries, and his deep eyes held ancient wisdom. Upon seeing Arata, he sensed the dormant power within him.
"Welcome, young human," he said in a serene voice.
Satoru agreed to guide him—but in a different way. Elves, in harmony with nature, rarely forged pacts. But Arata's power did not come from the earth—it came from an overwhelming Pressure. Satoru would teach him not to wield it as an external force, but as an extension of himself.
It was in the village that Arata met Mia, a Faunir girl with rabbit ears and a fluffy tail. She was about eight years old, with messy brown hair and eyes full of curiosity. She felt different among the elves… until Arata arrived. Another outsider. Another odd one.
He also met Mumen, a serious and traditionalist elf. He distrusted the young human and watched him with critical eyes, fearing that his innate power could disrupt the harmony of the village.
Arata trained every day with Satoru, learning to feel the pressure in matter: the weight of stones, the density of water. Practice after practice, he struggled to control his newfound affinity.
One day, frustrated by his lack of progress, he focused with all his strength. He remembered Satoru's words:
"Feel the weight. Be the weight."
Then something changed.
A deep hum emerged from his body. The stones trembled. The air vibrated intensely. The pressure became tangible.
Rocks began to be drawn toward him. They didn't float—they fell toward his body, one by one. He couldn't dodge them. The stones stuck to his skin, forming a crude armor, a brutal manifestation of his power. It was as if gravity had claimed him as its core.
The final impact knocked him unconscious.
Lyra and Mia, who were gathering herbs, heard the crash. They ran toward the clearing.
They found him lying there, covered in a rocky armor, unrecognizable.
"Arata!" Mia shouted, but Lyra held her back.
"Wait."
Lyra struck the armor with her spear. Nothing. Not a crack. The roots of Niralveht tried to pierce it but were repelled by its density. Arata's bond with Pressure had manifested… and could no longer be hidden.
Arata spent the night unconscious, protected by his own uncontrollable creation.
The rocky armor, born from Ten'ryuu's power, stood as a primitive and imposing shell around him.
Mia didn't leave his side, her small rabbit eyes shimmering with tears as she nervously rubbed her paws over the boy's chest, as if that could wake him. A few steps away, Lyra kept silent watch, her bow always ready, her gaze fixed on the forest's dark horizon.
When the first ray of sunlight peeked through the treetops, tinting the morning mist in gold, the rocky armor dissolved on its own.
It didn't break violently but instead fragmented in silence, turning into fine dust that rose with the breeze like ashes from a heavy dream.
Arata opened his eyes.
At first, he only felt confusion. His mind dazed, his memories tangled like disorderly threads. He tried to move. His body ached, but he found no wounds. He slowly sat up, touching his arms, chest, face. He was unharmed. Only the exhaustion clung to his muscles.
The morning silence surrounded him. But it wasn't an empty silence. It was… solemn. As if the forest held its breath so as not to interrupt something sacred.
He had changed.
Ten'ryuu's power wasn't just an external force granted to him. It was a presence that resonated from deep within. An invisible gravity that didn't just affect his surroundings… but also pulled at his soul.
"This power…" he murmured, without realizing it.
It wasn't something he could control yet. But it was there. Wild. Alive. Pulsing.
A new path lay before him. One forged by the invisible pressure of a destiny he was only beginning to understand.