It rained that night.
Not gentle, not cleansing — a storm like the island hadn't seen in decades. Wind tore across trees like claws, lightning split the sky open in flashes of bone-white.
And in a stone shelter buried deep in the cliffside, Kaen lay unconscious.
His aura flickered like a dying flame.
Vane sat cross-legged beside him, every muscle tensed, holding a defensive Zetsu that hadn't relaxed for two hours.
"I told you not to go that deep…"
He looked at the boy. Kaen's breathing was ragged. His skin looked pale.
But it wasn't blood loss.
It was aura drain — the kind that didn't just wear you out.
The kind that scorched your soul.
⸻
Within the Mind Palace, everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
Kaen stood in a hallway he didn't remember creating — a narrow black corridor with stone walls that pulsed with light like veins.
Every few seconds, a whisper echoed from the darkness:
"It saw us."
"It mirrored death."
"They remember."
Kaen turned, but the corridor looped on itself.
Then he saw it — at the far end, where the ceiling cracked open into infinity:
A mirror. Larger than any before. Standing tall as a tower.
Inside it, something moved.
Not a reflection.
A presence.
⸻
"What are you?" Kaen asked aloud.
The mirror didn't answer.
But something stepped into it — a version of Kaen, aged, worn, eyes glowing with silver flames.
"I am what comes if you go too far."
Kaen stared. "Are you… me?"
The figure grinned — not kind, not cruel.
Just tired.
"No. I'm the you who survives."
"The one who breaks the rules."
"The one who makes the Council run."
The mirror pulsed — a heartbeat.
And Kaen realized he wasn't seeing a future.
He was seeing a fork.
⸻
Suddenly, pain ripped through his body.
Kaen clutched his side — a psychic echo of the wound from the Black Thread's needle.
But this wasn't aura-pain.
It was deeper.
The mirror began to crack — not from impact, but from internal pressure.
The older Kaen stepped back into the darkness and whispered:
"You've opened something you don't understand. They're not the only ones watching now."
"Be careful who hears you reflect."
And then—
BOOM.
The Palace shook.
A surge of light erupted from the mirror.
And Kaen snapped awake.
⸻
His body screamed.
Vane grabbed his shoulder. "Easy—don't move."
Kaen coughed, wiped blood from his mouth.
"…How long was I out?"
"Four hours. But that was enough."
Kaen looked around. "They didn't come back?"
"No. But one of them left something."
Vane held out a thin object — a single black feather, hard as steel, warm to the touch.
"It pulsed with nen," Vane muttered. "Not like theirs. Something worse."
Kaen held the feather and felt a whisper slip into his mind.
"He's listening now."
Kaen's blood turned to ice.
⸻
"What does it mean?" he asked, staring at the feather.
Vane's voice darkened.
"It means the Council isn't alone in their game. There's a bigger predator circling."
Kaen looked up.
"Another hunter?"
Vane shook his head.
"Something older than Hunters."
⸻
That night, Kaen meditated again — but cautiously.
He didn't go into the Palace this time.
Instead, he created a new barrier node — an external mental structure designed to observe without entering.
Inside, he placed the feather. Suspended in thought.
And then he watched.
It began to glow. Then melt. Then reassemble into a glyph.
A symbol: An eye split by a blade.
Council of Black Thread Override Signal.
Request: Evaluation of Zero Mirror Anomaly.
Designation: "Potential Breach-Class."
Kaen's throat tightened.
"They don't think I'm dangerous…"
"They think I'm unstable."
⸻
In the deepest part of the barrier, a voice emerged again. Not a thought. Not a feeling.
A message.
Delivered from the other side of the mirror.
"Do not let them mark you."
"Do not let them bind you."
"And whatever you do…"
"…don't reflect Him."
Kaen felt his heart stop for half a second.
Then the signal collapsed, exploding into mental static that nearly blinded him.
⸻
He opened his eyes and saw the fire had gone out.
Only embers remained.
Vane was gone again — scouting, or hiding, or maybe hunting something of his own.
Kaen looked at the ceiling and whispered to himself:
"Don't reflect Him…?"
"Who the hell is 'Him'?"
But deep inside, part of him already knew.
There was something — someone — far beyond the Council.
A being they feared.
A being they obeyed.
And if the Zero Mirror ever locked onto Him… it wouldn't reflect back a copy.
It would bring Him through.
⸻
Outside the shelter, in the trees, someone watched.
Not with eyes.
Not with nen.
Just presence.
The leaves around the figure didn't move. The animals nearby didn't notice it was there.
Because to them, it wasn't.
But to Kaen, even in sleep, a chill swept down his spine.
He had opened something brilliant.
Beautiful.
Terrifying.
And now the ripples were being felt across the world.
⸻
To be continued in Chapter 11: The Mirror That Stares Back