The sky had changed.
Not in hue, but in presence.
The divine weight that once pressed down like a storm now lingered like breath held on the tip of a brush—quiet, watchful, waiting.
Ji Bai stood at the heart of the ink-formed realm, where the parchment floor rippled gently beneath his feet like silk in the wind. What once crushed his chest now flowed through his lungs—a presence no longer judging, but listening.
Behind him, Raiden Shogun's voice came, low but clear:
"Draw now. Not to defend, nor to resist."
"Draw—to lead."
She said nothing more.
Ji Bai closed his eyes, took a breath, and lifted his brush.
It trembled faintly at first, the tip glowing with ink and violet light. Then he began to paint.
One stroke.
A bridge formed—graceful, glowing, suspended across the void. It reached from the ground beneath him to a distant, floating island cloaked in mist. Not symbolic. Real. His brush wove connection into existence.
Second stroke.
A breeze rose from the ink, gentle and full of motion. It carried petals—drawn, not plucked—through the air, leaving behind swirling traces like forgotten verses. The world accepted his gesture, folding into its rhythm.
Third stroke.
A figure appeared.
Not a god, nor a soldier, nor a king.
A messenger, kneeling, arms raised with a scroll in hand. Head tilted upward—toward something higher, unseen. Not begging. Delivering.
Raiden Shogun stepped beside him. Her voice held faint amusement:
"You draw a messenger?"
"I draw what comes next," Ji Bai replied.
And then, with a final flick of the brush, he signed his name at the corner of the air:
Raidenkyo.
The realm trembled—but gently, like a mountain exhaling.
The dragons curled into mist. The phoenix closed its wings. Even the glowing calligraphy faded into ink, folding into silence.
A voice echoed through the air.
Not the Shogun's.
Not Ji Bai's.
But something older.
"Return. The storm has judged you. The scroll awaits."
Light split the horizon.
Ji Bai blinked—and when his eyes opened, he was back.
Tenshukaku.Its wide hall empty. Quiet. The world no longer crackled with tension. The storm had passed.
But on the wooden floor before him, a scroll lay open.
His scroll.
On it, the same glowing bridge. The same kneeling messenger. The petals. The ink wind. And at the bottom corner—
Raidenkyo.
His name.His beginning.