The house was quiet after laughter.
Outside, the forge slept. The last coals had dimmed into faint red stars beneath ash, and only the wind moved — brushing against the shutters, whispering through the cracks. Inside, the small lantern on their table still burned, its flame soft and golden, swaying with every breath they took.
Elara stretched, her hair loose now, eyes half-lidded with contentment. "It's strange," she said softly, "reading Hunnt's handwriting again. It feels like he's here."
Corwin smiled faintly, fingers tracing the edge of the old book. "Yeah… the stubborn idiot's words still smell like soot and iron."
They both chuckled quietly. Then silence settled again — the kind of silence shared only by two people who had spent years side by side, knowing when to speak and when to simply exist together.
But Elara's curiosity never rested long.
She leaned forward, brushing her fingertips over the open pages. "You know… it's odd."
"What is?"
"Corwin," she said, tapping the binding. "This part feels… thicker."
He leaned forward. "Maybe the pages warped?"
"No. Look." She slid her finger along the inner seam, and for the first time in years, a faint edge of parchment lifted free — tucked perfectly behind the last recorded technique.
Corwin blinked. "Wait a minute…"
Elara's breath hitched. "He hid something."
With care, she eased the pages free. Three thin sheets, folded twice and pressed flat by time, slipped out from the spine. The paper was older than the rest — browned at the edges, the ink faded but still legible.
Corwin set the lantern closer. The words were unmistakable: Hunnt's sharp, confident handwriting. But these weren't just notes. The lines were tighter, the sketches more intricate. Tiny arrows traced paths of movement and pressure — not just through the body, but flowing out from it, into the air.
At the top of the first hidden sheet, bold letters read:
Advanced Rokushiki Integration — Core Upgrades
Both of them exchanged a look.
Corwin murmured, "Oh, Hunnt… what did you do?"
They leaned closer, and the lantern flame reflected in their eyes as they began to read.
---
Core Upgrades
Technique Advanced Form Description
Soru Soru Kyoku ("Extreme Soru") Uses explosive footwork plus a dash of Observation Haki. Lets the user cover huge distances or chain micro-lightning mid-attack.
Tekkai Tekkai Ken ("Iron Fist/Blade") Allows hardening of specific body parts instead of locking the whole body, keeping mobility while defending or striking.
Geppo Geppo Shinkai ("Deep Moon Step") Adds rotation and leg-whip power, enabling diagonal or corkscrew flight, almost like limited aerial surfing.
Shigan Shigan Rendan ("Finger Barrage") Rapid shot thrusts or charged single strikes that pierce through metal. Can be mixed with Armament Haki for extreme penetration.
Rankyaku Rankyaku Senpuu ("Tempest Fang") Generates curved or multi-layered air blades, or a 360° shock wave from a spinning kick.
Kami-e Kami-e Ryuu ("Feather Dragon") Lets the user flow like feather and counter instantly, striking while evading. Feels almost intangible.
---
A long silence followed. Both of them stared, eyes wide, the crackle of the lantern the only sound in the room.
Elara's mouth opened first. "What… what is this?"
Corwin leaned back, still processing. "These are the same techniques — but evolved. He turned Rokushiki into something else entirely."
Elara blinked rapidly, speechless for a moment. "So… this is what comes after mastering all six?"
Corwin nodded slowly. "Looks like it."
They read again, more carefully this time. The notes went beyond motion and into will — each form annotated with faint lines of energy, aura pathways drawn through the body like maps. Beside some, Hunnt had scribbled faint terms they both recognized: Armament flow, Observation resonance, Will alignment.
Corwin's voice dropped to a whisper. "He didn't just master Rokushiki. He combined it with Haki."
Elara's eyes widened further. "Wait… you didn't know this?"
He shook his head quickly. "No. He never showed us these. We only trained Soru, Tekkai, and Kami-e. The other three — Geppo, Rankyaku, and Shigan — were theory to us. He must've finished them after leaving Ravenshire."
She sat back, stunned. "Then these advanced forms… they're beyond what even the Guilds know."
Corwin sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. "If hunters out there got their hands on this… the world would be in chaos. People would kill to learn these."
Elara stared at the glowing pages, awe in her voice. "It's incredible. But terrifying."
He nodded. "Hunnt must've known that. That's why he left the book with me — told me to guard it, not teach it. He probably hid these pages himself."
Elara closed the book gently, her hand trembling slightly. "Then he trusted you with a secret big enough to change everything."
"Or destroy it," Corwin muttered.
For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them felt charged — as if the words on the page carried their own pressure, their own echo of Hunnt's will.
Elara finally broke the silence. "He always believed strength should protect, not dominate. Maybe that's why he buried this knowledge — until someone could carry it with restraint."
Corwin nodded slowly. "Then that means us."
She looked up sharply. "Us?"
"Who else?" He gestured around. "You're the best blacksmith in the village, Elara. You understand flow, precision, balance — that's what Rokushiki is built on. And I've still got strength and footwork. Between us, maybe we can learn enough to pass it on safely."
Elara hesitated, then smiled faintly. "So… we study it. Quietly."
"Quietly," he agreed. "And we hide it somewhere no one else will find it."
She nodded. "I'll think of a place."
Corwin laughed softly, the tension breaking. "Of course you will. You always do."
Elara rolled her eyes, but her lips curved in a smirk. "Maybe somewhere even you can't find it."
He pointed at her with mock accusation. "That's not funny."
"Mm, it kind of is."
They laughed quietly together, the sound mixing with the hum of the lantern flame. The fear, the awe, the weight — all eased, if only for a moment, replaced by the warmth of two people who had lived through storms and still found humor in them.
Elara picked up the folded pages again, eyes softening. "He must've written these near the end of his stay here. Look — the ink's newer, but the handwriting's more… grounded. Less restless."
Corwin nodded, recognizing it too. "Yeah. That's Hunnt after finding purpose."
He stood, stretching. "Let's lock it up for now. No one needs to see this until we understand what it really means."
Elara agreed, her voice gentle. "I'll take care of it."
She folded the parchment carefully and slid it back into the book. Her movements were slow, reverent — as if she were handling something sacred. When she was done, she tied the cord back around the leather and held it close to her chest.
"I'll hide it somewhere safe," she said. "Somewhere only I'll know."
Corwin gave her a look — part concern, part trust. "Don't tell me where."
"I wasn't planning to."
He chuckled. "Smart woman."
"Obviously."
The lantern began to dim, its flame shrinking to a faint golden glow. Elara placed the book aside, her eyes lingering on the emblem etched into the cover — the black circle enclosing a triangle and a fist.
"Hunnt," she whispered quietly. "You really never stopped creating, did you?"
Corwin placed a hand on her shoulder. "He left us the world's most dangerous bedtime story."
She smiled faintly. "Then we'll make sure no one misreads it."
Outside, wind brushed past the window, stirring faint ashes from the cold forge into the night. Somewhere beyond the hills, thunder rolled — distant but steady, as though the world itself exhaled.
Elara blew out the lantern. Darkness claimed the room, but it wasn't heavy — it was calm. Peaceful.
And under that quiet veil, the book lay hidden, its secrets safe in the hands of those who understood exactly what Hunnt meant them to:
Power isn't for those who crave it — it's for those who can bear its weight.