The Mongol horn faded into the distance, swallowed by the whispering trees.
Yuna didn't speak again until they reached the old shrine hidden among the cliffs — a ruin half-swallowed by ivy and fog.
"This place was sacred once," she muttered, pushing a boulder aside to reveal a narrow passage. "Now it's just quiet enough for ghosts."
Jin ducked beneath the overhang, his boots crunching on gravel and ash. Candles — old, melted down to stubs — lined the cracked stone floor. The faint scent of incense lingered, mixed with the cold damp of moss.
It felt… alive.
Like the air itself was remembering something.
Yuna tossed him a small dagger, dull and worn from use.
"Lesson one — the shadows are your allies. Learn their silence. Move when they move."
Jin caught it easily, flipping the blade once in his hand. His movements were precise, practiced — too practiced.
Yuna's brow furrowed. "You've done this before?"
He hesitated.
Yeah. In another life. With a controller.
"Something like that," he said instead.
She didn't question further.
Instead, she motioned toward a set of straw dummies set around the shrine. "Pretend they're guards. Watch, learn."
Yuna melted into the mist.
One heartbeat. Two.
Then — a whisper of steel, a blur of motion.
The first dummy's head fell clean off.
The second — silent stab through the throat.
The third never even "saw" her coming.
She reappeared behind him, exhaling calmly.
"Speed doesn't matter. Timing does. Anticipate the moment when their attention breaks — that's when you strike."
Jin nodded, stepping into the shadows.
He remembered the stealth system, the rhythm of patrols, the invisible cone of vision — gamer instincts whispering in the back of his mind.
I can do this.
He took a breath.
Moved.
Slid behind the first dummy — clean stab to the neck.
Rolled to the next. Perfect strike.
The third—
He hesitated. The candlelight caught his eyes, and for a flash — he saw a face.
A real one.
The Mongol guard from last night, his eyes wide in shock as life drained away.
Jin froze. The dagger trembled in his grip.
"Hey."
Yuna's voice pulled him back.
Her expression softened — just slightly.
"It's never easy the first time. But if you don't act, you die. If you hesitate, someone else does."
He swallowed, gripping the blade tighter.
"I know."
She nodded approvingly. "Then again."
He moved again — this time faster, smoother. The hesitation burned away by focus.
With each strike, he felt the energy inside him pulse stronger — the golden warmth of Chi swirling through his core.
When he finished, he was panting lightly, a faint steam rising from his skin despite the cold.
Yuna tilted her head. "You're learning faster than anyone I've ever seen. You're sure you're still you, Jin Sakai?"
He met her eyes — that same calm, unreadable smirk.
"Maybe I'm finally becoming who I should've been all along."
A gust of wind swept through the shrine — the candles flickered wildly. For just a second, Yuna thought she saw faint shapes move within the smoke — warriors, kneeling, whispering his name.
Then it was gone.
She exhaled slowly. "Alright, Ghost. Tomorrow we move to the outpost. You'll need to test this on living targets."
Jin nodded, tightening his grip on the dagger.
The glow of Chi still pulsed faintly through his veins, like the heartbeat of something ancient awakening inside him.
He didn't say it aloud, but he felt it —
The Ghost wasn't reborn.
He was evolving.
Night draped over the island like a velvet shroud.
A thin mist crawled through the pines, veiling the old shrine in silence.
Yuna crouched beside the campfire's dying embers, tying a fresh strip of cloth around her wrist. Her eyes flicked toward Jin — the firelight glinting across his armor, the faint golden shimmer still pulsing under his skin like a heartbeat.
"Ready?" she asked.
He fastened his mask to his hip and nodded. "I've been ready."
"Good," she said, rising to her feet. "Because this time, the targets fight back."
They moved silently through the trees, their footsteps barely stirring the fallen leaves.
Ahead, an abandoned Mongol outpost glowed with torchlight — no banners, no reinforcements, just a handful of sentries left behind to guard loot.
"Your test," Yuna whispered, crouching behind a boulder. "Take them all without alerting the others. If they sound the horn, you fail."
Jin studied the terrain. Two patrols, one lookout, one guard by the fire.
He mapped it all in seconds — the angles, the paths, the blind spots.
The gamer inside him came alive.
Patrol pattern: predictable. Noise radius: small. Let's make this quick.
He exhaled slowly, letting instinct and experience blur into one.
Then he moved.
The first guard fell before his scream reached his throat.
The second turned — too late — Jin's blade flashing once, then gone.
By the time the third noticed the shift in air, the Ghost was already behind him, whispering, "Sleep."
The body dropped, silent.
From the shadows, Yuna watched — wide-eyed.
There was no hesitation, no wasted motion.
Every strike precise. Efficient. Cold.
When he reached the final guard, Jin felt that surge again — Chi.
It flared in his chest, spilling warmth through his limbs. His world slowed.
Every sound sharpened — the crackle of fire, the rustle of cloth, the faint drum of his own pulse.
He moved through it like water.
By the time Yuna blinked, it was over.
The camp was silent.
Only the fire crackled — the kind of silence that carried power.
She stepped out from cover, awe and unease written across her face.
"I… don't even know what to say."
"Say I passed," he replied, sheathing his sword.
She huffed, shaking her head. "You didn't pass. You terrified them into silence."
He smiled faintly. "That's the point, isn't it?"
She opened her mouth to retort, but stopped when the wind shifted — sudden, heavy, unnatural.
The torches flickered. The fire dimmed.
Then she heard it — a whisper carried on the wind.
A language older than her, too soft to understand, yet heavy enough to make her skin crawl.
"...You feel that?" she asked quietly.
Jin didn't answer. His gaze had turned toward the cliffs.
A figure stood there, barely visible in the mist — a lone monk, robes torn and dirty, hands clasped in prayer.
For a second, Jin thought his heart stopped.
That same monk from the temple.
The monk raised his head slowly, eyes gleaming like dying stars.
He mouthed something Jin couldn't hear — then turned, vanishing into the fog as though swallowed by it.
Yuna frowned. "Who the hell was that?"
Jin's hand rested on his sword, knuckles pale. "A warning," he said quietly. "Or maybe… a reminder."
The wind howled again, tugging at the Mongol banners still hanging tattered around the camp.
They fluttered wildly, as if trying to flee.
Yuna shivered. "Let's get back to the shrine before dawn. Whatever that was… it didn't feel human."
Jin glanced once more toward the cliffs.
The monk was gone.
But the faint scent of incense lingered in the air — and for a fleeting second, he swore he saw the shape of the Ghost mask reflected in the flames.
He turned away, his Chi still humming, alive and restless.
"Training's over," he murmured. "It's time we start the war."
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