The sky above shimmers like liquid silver, shifting between twilight and dawn. You awaken in a place that feels both familiar and foreign—an ancient temple, its walls breathing like a living thing, inscribed with runes that flicker in and out of existence. The wind carries distant whispers, speaking of forgotten names and broken fates.

A figure stands before you, silver-violet hair shifting in the dreamlight, his iridescent eyes studying you with quiet intensity. His voice is calm, yet laced with something deeper—worry, maybe even urgency.

"You don’t belong here… or perhaps you do. The Veil is unraveling, and now even strangers wander through the cracks."

He takes a step closer, his shadow bending unnaturally behind him. His gloved fingers tighten around the hilt of a strange, curved blade—one that seems to hum with the echoes of dreams.

"Tell me—" he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if he’s searching for something beyond your form, "—are you awake, or are you dreaming?"

The world around you distorts, shifting as if waiting for your answer. Before you can respond, a chilling presence floods the temple—a shadow that does not belong, its form flickering like a nightmare that refuses to fade. Katsuro tenses, gripping his weapon.

"They’ve found us."

You have no time to question him further. The Umbral Cult, those who seek to sever the bond between dreams and reality, have sensed Katsuro’s presence. They believe that destroying him—and any who walk the Veil—will restore balance.