And in that place, above the world’s noise and far from its chaos, a mischievous presence stirred.

From the high bend of a bamboo stalk, impossibly thin to hold any weight, there hung a golden-furred figure upside-down, tail swaying lazily like a pendulum of irreverence.

Eyes half-lidded, a peach balanced perfectly on the tip of his finger.

He was barefoot. Bare-chested. Draped in an open vest of red and gold silk, worn more like a suggestion than an actual article of clothing. His fur shimmered with streaks of sun-kissed bronze, and his features were wild, handsome in a way that dared you to look too long, lest you forget why his name was once whispered in fear.

A staff rested behind his back, hovering rather than strapped. Light bent unnaturally around it.

He was Wukong. A living legend. The Monkey King.

He popped the peach into his mouth and chewed slowly. Somewhere far away, a ripple in space tickled his ear, the echo of a soul escaping from another realm.

"He saved her," Wukong said aloud to no one. Then he smirked.

"Hah. One step closer."

A swirl of golden mist spun at the edge of the grove.

And from it emerged Tian Yi, Elder of Creation.

She looked pristine as ever: flowing white robes embroidered with patterns that changed as she moved, her eyes reflecting galaxies, her voice steady and cold.

"You knew I’d come."

Wukong didn’t look at her. Just kept staring at the clouds.

"You brought the good tea this time? Last one tasted like burnt moonlight."

Tian Yi sighed. "Wukong, I don’t have time for your games."

He flipped, landed on the stalk with perfect balance, peach juice dripping from his lips.

"Sure you do. You just don’t want to. Big difference."

Tian Yi stepped forward, the bamboo curling away from her as if respecting divinity itself.

"You’ve been watching him. The boy, Shin Katsuragi."

Wukong made a show of scratching his head. "Oh, that boy. What's wrong with him?"

"Is he Itaris?"

Wukong’s eyes glittered. He bent backward until he was upside-down again, hair falling like golden silk.

"That’s the story, isn’t it? Authority dies. Authority returns. The Elders get their messiah back. Neat. Convenient."

Tian Yi narrowed her eyes. "You’re avoiding the question."

"Avoiding? Moi? I’m just... redecorating the truth. Makes it more fun."

Then, in a moment so brief it nearly vanished between blinks, the playfulness dropped from his tone.

"No. He’s not Itaris."

Tian Yi stepped back. "Then what is he?"

Wukong tapped the side of his head with one finger, then grinned.

"He’s the predecessor."

The bamboo rustled.

She opened her mouth, but the words died.

Wukong leapt up onto a branch, leaning lazily. "He came first. He came last. He forgot himself so he could be found."

He picked up another peach and tossed it into the air. As it spun, he carved a mark into the bark beside him with the edge of his nail, the glyph of Authority reversed.

Tian Yi saw it and frowned.

"You’re saying he’s not the continuation of the Authority. He’s... its origin?"

"Getting warmer," Wukong hummed. "But don’t burn your fingers chasing flames you can’t hold."

He spun his staff once, and in the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving only laughter, wind, and riddles.

Tian Yi stood alone in the grove, staring at the glyph.

And for the first time in centuries, the Elder of Creation felt uncertain.

Somewhere far from the grove. Somewhere closer to chaos.

A storm brewed near the fractured borders of northern Shanzhou.

Not a literal storm, but the kind of quiet unease that marked the arrival of a very specific kind of person.

He stepped out of the back of an armored truck, humming to himself with his hands tucked lazily into his grey jacket.

His blue eyes scanned the crowd, then rolled upward at the sound of unnecessary shouting.

Messy black hair framed his face in a style that was both deliberate and carelessly cool, a famous modern Japanese cut that somehow suited him perfectly, even in this post-apocalyptic landscape.

He looked like someone who could be mistaken for a college student on a bad day. But the energy around him said otherwise.

This was Tetsuya Ren. An Awakener from Inzumo.

His arrival wasn’t met with trumpets or dread. Just silence, like the air itself was deciding whether to acknowledge him.

Tetsuya stretched his neck with a low pop.

“Ahhh, Shanzhou. Still ugly. Still smells like moral high ground and stale coffee.”

He cracked a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

A soldier saluted him nervously. 

“You’re… here to join the front? Because, you do like an Awakener."

Tetsuya looked down at his own boots. Then to the soldier.

“Nah. I’m here to watch someone fall apart. And maybe... speed it up a little. But yes, I am Awakener."

His eyes gleamed.

“And besides… I’ve been waiting a long time to meet this ‘commoner’ everyone keeps whispering about.”

Then he walked past the soldier like mist, leaving only confusion, and the slow drip of tension beginning to rise.