Night blanketed the land like ink, and silence settled over the Kamisato Estate.Deep within its quiet halls, Ji Bai sat alone by the window. Before him lay the unfinished painting—one that had been seen and acknowledged by the Raiden Shogun herself. Her presence still lingered faintly upon the scroll, a trace of divine power that shimmered across the surface like a breath held in eternity.
He stared at the image of the thunderous silhouette, lost in thought.
Today's audience with the Shogun replayed again and again in his mind. Though she had spoken little, each word struck with the weight of lightning."You are not chosen by the gods… yet your brush carries intent."It wasn't merely recognition—it was a test, an invitation to peer further into the unknown.
A sudden arc of lightning cracked across the rooftop outside, lighting up the entire study.
Ji Bai's eyes shut instinctively. In that moment of blinding light, he felt his consciousness tremble—And then came the voice.
"An unfinished image… must one day be completed."
The voice was distant and ancient, yet intimate—as if it had emerged not from the skies, but from somewhere deep within himself.
He opened his eyes with a jolt. The world around him blurred, and a vision surged forth into his mind:
A shattered battlefield beneath storm-dark skies. A lone figure stood at the center, cloaked in lightning and shadow. In his hand was no blade—but a brush.Thunder swirled around him. Shadows of gods and monsters collapsed in his wake, and with a single stroke of his brush, the storm fell still.That man turned his face—and Ji Bai saw his own reflection in those ageless features.
"That's… me?"
He staggered back, breath ragged, sweat trickling down his neck.
The vision hadn't been fantasy. It was a fragment of memory—a sealed truth breaking through the veil. His brush had stirred something buried, something long dormant.
Now, he understood why the thunder had answered him that day on the street. Why his dreams were haunted by ancient ink and divine figures.
His brush was being summoned.
"'Painting that touches the divine'... it's not just a power. It's a remembrance. A return."
Ji Bai looked at his fingers. They were still stained with ink, but now faint sparks of lightning danced along his skin—quiet, curious, alive.
This wasn't a simple mutation of the body. It was fate itself taking shape.
Just then, a gentle knock echoed at the door.
"Ji Bai?" It was Ayaka's voice. "Are you alright? The thunder… feels strange tonight."
He steadied his breath, pressing down the surge of power within him. "I'm fine," he replied softly. "Just… felt like painting."
A pause. Then, her calm voice again:"If you ever need to speak, I'll be here."
Ji Bai smiled faintly. "Thank you."
As her footsteps faded away, he turned back to his desk and placed his hand on the scroll.
His eyes no longer held confusion.
He now knew this:Somewhere in the lands of the Raiden Shogun, fate had begun to move.
And he—he would be the one to lift the brush and complete the forgotten image of the gods.