The lake of the Breathing Dojo remained calm, as if wanting to erase the scars of the battle. Yet, within the living walls, there was no silence—there were murmurs. Symbols glowed, appeared, and vanished on the surfaces, as if trying to write a message that no one could read in its entirety.
Daisuke Renmaru, sitting cross-legged, watched them intently.
Shoumei approached, leaning on his bamboo staff.
"Do you see what I see?"
Daisuke nodded.
"They are trying to speak to us. But not in our language… and not only in theirs."
Shoumei frowned.
"Then in what language?"
Daisuke closed his eyes.
"In one that doesn't exist yet."
The battle against Kenshiro, Aya, and Jin had left deep marks. The apprentices murmured among themselves, confused and fearful. Some wanted to flee the dojo, believing they were serving an alien force. Others, fascinated, wanted to plunge headlong into the living symbols.
Aya of the Tides remained on site, unable to leave. Ever since she had touched the symbols during the fight, she felt a continuous vibration in her body, as if invisible waves coursed through her blood. Jin of the Lightning, on the other hand, was restless, unable to settle.
"When I close my eyes, I see liquid lightning. I don't know if I've gone mad or been reborn."
Kenshiro, though defeated, refused to accept it. He sat in silence, arms crossed, watching the Nodule like a prisoner watches his cell.
It was Aya who broke the tension.
"Perhaps… we shouldn't fight this anymore. Perhaps we should learn to listen."
No one answered immediately. Then Shoumei cleared his throat.
"Learn to listen, yes. But how do you hear something that has no words?"
Daisuke smiled faintly.
"By creating words."
In the following days, the dojo transformed into a living laboratory. Apprentices and masters gathered before the symbols that appeared on the walls, trying to record their shapes and patterns. They weren't just images—each symbol came with a physical sensation: heat, weight, lightness, cold, speed.
Aya proposed the first step:
"If each symbol causes us something, let's name them by the sensations they provoke."
Thus was born the initial lexicon of the Convergence: symbols that meant "flow," "pressure," "shock," "density." Others meant paradoxes difficult to translate: "light-heavy," "still-moving."
Jin, still wary, was the first to risk combining two symbols. He traced on the ground, with chalk, the sign for "shock" and the one for "fluidity." The result was immediate: the living wall responded, projecting a wave of liquid electricity that made everyone step back.
"See?" he shouted, laughing nervously. "It works! They understand our combinations!"
Shoumei, however, warned:
"This is language, Jin. And language can wound, but it can also heal. Be careful."
Kenshiro, despite his resistance, couldn't ignore the process. He watched in silence, until one day, when the apprentices were trying to record the symbol for "rigidity," he approached.
"You're doing it wrong."
Everyone looked at him, surprised. Kenshiro knelt, took the chalk, and drew a different line.
"Rigidity isn't just hardness. It's resistance, but also fragility when it breaks."
As he finished, the living wall responded with a new symbol—more complex, more profound. Kenshiro stood astonished, as if he had opened a door he didn't know existed.
Aya smiled.
"See? Even you are translating now."
He didn't answer, but he didn't walk away again.
Little by little, the lexicon grew. The dojo filled with boards covered in symbols, mixing human strokes and living patterns. It wasn't just study: it was practice. Each new combination produced effects on the environment. Some warmed the air, others purified the water in the lake, others still provoked gentle winds or sudden storms.
But there was something more.
Daisuke realized it first.
"When we use the symbols together… we aren't just commanding. We are conversing."
"Conversing with whom?" asked an apprentice.
Daisuke placed his hand on the pulsating wall.
"With the Triad. With the Nodule. With… something that lives through it."
The apprentices shuddered.
Shoumei spoke, thoughtful:
"Perhaps that is the true test. It's not about control. It's about dialogue."
The climax of this process happened on a stormy night. Lightning split the sky, and the lake water overflowed. The symbols on the walls appeared in a frantic rhythm, as if trying to shout something urgent.
Aya, Jin, and Daisuke ran to the center of the dojo.
"They are asking to unite," said Aya. "But I don't know what."
Jin's eyes widened.
"It's dangerous. Perhaps we are pushing too hard."
But the symbols kept appearing, overlapping, forming a chain of meanings. It was as if the very universe of the Triad was clamoring for a phrase that didn't yet exist.
Daisuke took a deep breath.
"Then let's risk it."
He traced in the air, with the energy of stone and wind, the symbols for "flow," "shock," and "mobile-rigidity." Aya added "wave," Jin added "thunder."
The instant the sequence was completed, the Nodule vibrated. The walls ceased to be walls—they became transparent membranes. For a moment, everyone saw beyond them. They saw the other side.
It was the Triad's Cognitive Citadel. A colossal organism of living corridors, pulsating hearts, rivers of symbols flowing like blood. A biological architecture that wasn't just construction, but embodied thought.
The apprentices shouted in astonishment, some in fear, others in ecstasy. Aya fell to her knees, tears streaming.
"It's… beautiful…"
Kenshiro, standing in the background, clenched his fists. What he saw wasn't destruction, nor a lie. It was something too real to be ignored.
Lightning cut the sky again, and the vision disappeared. The dojo returned to normal, panting, but transformed.
Daisuke spoke with a firm voice:
"Today… a language was born. Not just for us. But for both worlds."
From that night on, the encounters were no longer just conflicts. The lexicon of the Convergence became the basis for a symbiotic grammar. Words that weren't just words, but bridges. Bridges that could heal wounds, ignite flames, move rivers.
And although many still resisted, one thing was undeniable:
Veridianum no longer spoke alone.
And the Triad was no longer isolated.