The air grew dense. The darkness seemed to breathe, alive, as if every shadow could hear the heartbeats of the two hidden boys.
Jiro's eyes trembled. A cold terror crawled up his spine as his lips dried up.
Rayjou, heart in his throat, could barely contain a panicked whimper.
—He found us... What do I do...? —Jiro thought desperately, swallowing hard. His mind roared with silent alarms. He had to act.
Without another word, he grabbed Rayjou's arm and whispered:
—Run!
They both shot out from the dark corner where they'd been hiding, without looking back.
—We're out, okay?! Please, don't kill us!! —Rayjou shrieked, nearly tripping over himself.
The masked spirit watched them from the air, floating as if the ground had never existed. He looked them up and down. Then let out a short, mocking laugh.
—What is this...? Just a couple of kids. I thought you were some of those annoying living beings...
—Living beings...? —Jiro repeated, confused.
—Yes —replied the spirit, looking down with a hint of arrogance—. The ones who seal the rifts we open. Though you already knew that, right? You've been spying on my conversation with my lord...
The word "rifts" struck Jiro in the chest. A sharp blow to the heart. His mind darkened.
—I don't understand...? What do you mean you open the rifts...? You're the ones responsible?
—I thought I already told you —the spirit responded lazily, his voice echoing with eerie calm.
And then, as if a floodgate opened in his memory, Jiro dropped to his knees.
He saw fire. He saw corpses.
He saw that light tearing through the sky of Yamashiga.
He saw his father... vanish.
His body trembled. The spirit's voice was now a distant murmur.
Jiro was drenched in cold sweat. His thoughts were a whirlwind of horror.
—That's why the dimensional rifts we open in every infinite world are necessary... —the spirit went on, unfazed—. So now you understand.
Rayjou tried to ease the tension, nerves and sweat all over his face:
—Hey, floaty dude... It was a mistake coming here, okay? We didn't mean to spy! We were just... passing by, alright? So... can we go?
—Go —the spirit said with a dismissive gesture—. I don't have time to kill lower beings... This mission is more important. I don't want distractions.
And he burst into laughter.
—Not like you could harm me anyway —he added mockingly.
—Alright! We're leaving! Right, Jiro...? —Rayjou asked, taking a step back.
But Jiro didn't move. His gaze was blank and shadowed.
—Hey, Jiro, what are you doing...? Let's go already! —Rayjou whispered in despair.
Jiro muttered:
—Ten years ago... in Yamashiga Village...
The Great Catastrophe happened.
My land... my friends...
My life...
My father...
I lost everything... ever since I saw those rifts. That glowing tear in the sky... that massive spirit...
The spirit glanced sideways at him, tilting his head.
—What are you talking about?
—Let's go, Jiro! Forget about this! —Rayjou insisted, trying to pull him.
But Jiro forcefully shook his hand off.
—Are you telling me... that all of that was caused...? —he shouted in rage.
—I don't like repeating myself —said the spirit, tiredly.
—Then... those rifts aren't just cosmic phenomena?! —Jiro panted. His lungs wouldn't respond.
The spirit observed him curiously.
—I see… I think you're a victim of some void wound in this world. Though... I don't remember when. My memory's awful, you know. Eons of existence...
The spirit fake-coughed and continued in a mocking tone:
—Allow me to clarify something.
The Shiketsus, Daiketsus, and Shinjetsu are not natural phenomena. They're caused. By us. The servants of our beloved Lord Spirit.
He opens the rifts.
We keep them from closing.
The rifts open across multiple universal lines. That's why we travel without limits. And thanks to this loom talisman... —he said, showing a glowing green stone—, we also access the Spirit Realm. From there we observe the worlds and drain their energy.
The spirit floated backward with a yawn.
—I've talked too much... how annoying. Anyway, back to my work. Have a nice day.
Rayjou couldn't process everything he'd heard. His mind was a storm of broken thoughts.
But Jiro... Jiro's gaze burned with fury.
—Yeah... thanks for the info.
And with a roar of rage, he leapt at the masked spirit.
—I'LL KILL YOU! —he shouted, fists raised.
—JIROOO?! —Rayjou screamed in panic.
Time slowed down.
Jiro's arms went right through the spirit like mist.
—What just happened?! —Jiro exclaimed, bewildered.
—He... he went right through him like smoke... —Rayjou said, mouth agape.
The spirit slowly turned toward him.
—Sorry, little living one. I'm a spirit. I don't have a physical body. Punches... don't work on me.
—Damn it! —Jiro cursed, charging again with a roar, his fists glowing with frustration.
Once more, his attack passed through the ethereal being.
—Jiro, please! Stop! —Rayjou begged—. Let's go!
—You should listen to your friend —the spirit said, still laughing, floating with indifference.
But Jiro's eyes... were no longer the same.
The echoes of blows rang within the cavern, but none struck flesh. Jiro, sweat dripping from his forehead, launched punch after punch, high kicks, sweeps, leaping strikes—martial combinations that mixed speed, rage, and precision. But it always ended the same. His attacks simply passed through the ethereal body of the Masked Spirit as if it were smoke. Smoke that stared at him with glowing, empty eyes.
—Really...? You're still trying that? —said the Spirit with disdain, floating slightly above the ground—. I already told you, your attacks are useless, boy...
Jiro panted, frustration carved into his face.
—Shut up! I'm going to bring you down! I'm going to—
—Jiro! —Rayjou interrupted, his voice trembling—. If you keep going like this... he's going to kill us!
His friend's words bounced off the walls, powerless against the tension that gripped the air. The cave, lit by the light descending from the fissure above, felt closed in—trapped in a moment suspended between death and determination.
Jiro rolled back gracefully, landing beside Rayjou. His chest heaved, but his eyes still burned with resolve.
—So, if physical attacks don't affect you... I know how to hurt you —he murmured.
The Spirit tilted his head with mild curiosity.
—And what are you going to do now?
Then, without warning, Jiro lowered his arms and clenched his fists. A dense aura began to flow from his palms, enveloping them in a mist that spun like thick, steaming vapor. It was energy. Pure, unstable, violent. Spirit.
The stone beneath his feet cracked as Jiro launched forward like a bullet. The Spirit stopped floating, landing gently on the ground. Rayjou's eyes widened.
—He stopped floating...!
Jiro's fist, wrapped in spiritual aura, tore through the air with fury, leaving a trail of wind. It struck! It didn't pass through. It was stopped.
A skeletal hand cloaked in shadows had caught the blow.
—Interesting... —said the Spirit, eyeing his hand with slight surprise—. Spiritual energy. I hadn't realized you were users of that kind of power...
Jiro gritted his teeth. I touched him... I finally touched him...
But the atmosphere changed. The Spirit's presence turned heavy, malicious, lethal.
—I don't like this at all... —he muttered darkly.
Then, with deadly fluidity, he twisted Jiro's arm and hurled him through the air like a ragdoll. Jiro's body flew several meters, crashing violently against a rock. The sound echoed through the entire cave.
—Jirooo! —Rayjou screamed, running toward him.
The Masked Spirit began to walk—slow, firm—like death itself.
—Enough... It's time to die. You should've left when I gave you the chance.
Rayjou managed to lift Jiro, who was barely standing, blood streaming from his forehead.
—Now we're in trouble... —he murmured with terror.
But Jiro, with a half-smile and blood dripping from his mouth, replied:
—I'm just getting warmed up...
With a war cry, he launched forward again. Bursts of spiritual energy streamed from his hands. The Spirit blocked them all with ease, moving effortlessly.
—Your spiritual energy flow is too unstable... —he commented as he dodged with grace—. You've got strength, but no control.
Then, with a swift spin, he struck Jiro in the nose. The world spun around Jiro as his head was slammed with a wave of dizziness. He dropped to his knees, dazed.
—Leave him alone! —shouted Rayjou in fury.
He ran toward the Spirit, channeling his own spiritual energy into his legs. With a double spin, he unleashed two quick and powerful kicks. They were stopped with the Spirit's palm, who struck his chest and sent him flying backward.
The difference in power was overwhelming.
Rayjou, now on his knees, raised both hands. In his palms, a fireball began to form, spinning on itself with raw energy. The cave lit up with its glow.
—This... is for Jiro!
The Spirit raised an eyebrow.
—Nice... You can generate elemental power from that energy too?
With a single hand, he caught the fireball and absorbed part of it... then redirected it.
—Returning the favor.
The ball flew toward Jiro, who had just begun to rise. It hit him square in the chest. His body was flung back, landing next to a stone spear. He hit his head, and his vision blurred.
—Jirooo! —Rayjou screamed again.
But there was no time. An invisible force gripped his torso. The Masked Spirit lifted him with a psychic gesture and threw him against a rock wall. A cracking sound echoed.
—Let me teach you how to use spiritual energy... properly —he said with cruel calm.
He formed his fingers into a gun shape, aiming at Rayjou.
—We'll start with you.
At the tip of his finger, a small flame appeared. It began to spin, shifting from red to blue, then to purple. It became a compact sphere of violet fire, throbbing violently.
—You like fire, right? Then have some of this...
He fired.
The sphere streaked through the air like a meteor. Rayjou, semi-conscious, barely reacted. The explosion shook the entire cave.
—RAYJOU!! —Jiro screamed, lifting his head as the smoke cleared.
Rayjou's body lay on the ground, burned, his clothes in tatters. He was unconscious. His breathing was faint.
Jiro fell to his knees, trembling.
—Rayjou... Look what he did to you... Dammit...
The Spirit watched him with a neutral expression.
—He's not dead yet. But close.
He turned toward him, aiming his finger again.
—Now... it's your turn.
A new violet flame began to glow in the darkness.
Time seemed to stop.
Facing imminent death, facing the purple flame that slowly advanced toward him as if mocking his helplessness… Jiro Kamimizu didn't move. He didn't scream. He didn't resist.
He simply… cried.
His eyes welled up, not from the searing heat of the attack, but from the memories striking him like echoes of a life that now felt so distant… The image of his father emerged vividly, as alive as the day he last saw him. Those warm eyes, that firm voice, the hands that once lifted him with strength and tenderness.
Jiro trembled.
—Why…?
—Why did you disappear, Dad? Why couldn't I do anything…?
Tears fell in silence, heavy pearls flowing from his soul.
He remembered when Rayjou Tamashi first appeared in his life, that clumsy but brave boy who offered a hand when he had lost his way. He remembered entering the Spiritual Training Academy, the years of hard practice, the days he wanted to give up… and the nights he thought of his father while gazing at the moon through the window.
A thousand images flooded him:
Him as a baby, crying with small horns, reaching out to grab his father's finger.
His mother, strong but exhausted.
His grandfather, always present, yet unable to fill the void left by the man who was once his hero.
And then he understood.
The regret wasn't about failing…
It was about never feeling enough.
About never being ready.
About always carrying the guilt of being weak.
—Forgive me, Dad… —he whispered with a trembling voice—. Forgive me, truly…
It was in that moment, when the word "forgive" rose from his soul, that the red crescent pendant hanging from his neck began to vibrate… then glow, and finally resonate as if in tune with his heartbeat.
The Masked Spirit, unmoved, fired the shot.
A purple roar raced across the cave like a ray of death.
The explosion covered everything in smoke and dust.
Rayjou, still unconscious, lay silent.
The Spirit lowered his hand coldly, convinced of the outcome.
But as he turned, his gaze landed on the fissure in the rock… and there, he saw only the small Shiketsu, the ceremonial dagger.
The crimson spear, however… was no longer there.
He frowned.
—It can't be… —he muttered, floating again with tension—. Where is the Higetsu no Yari…?
The smoke slowly began to clear… and then he saw it.
There stood Jiro Kamimizu, upright.
And in front of him, floating silently… the Higetsu no Yari.
A spear with a blazing crimson blade, glowing like blood, spun gently while a stream of spiritual energy swirled around it. Rayjou's wounds began to close, slowly, wrapped in that same protective aura.
Jiro stared at the spear with wide eyes.
—The Higetsu no Yari…? But… why…?
The Spirit trembled. His voice shook for the first time.
—This has to be a joke! The original bearer is supposed to be dead! That spear can't choose another without his consent…!
Jiro grasped the spear with both hands. He felt the resonance vibrate in his chest.
—Did it choose me…?
—The Crimson Spear of Raizen Tenkuma… —he whispered in awe.
The Masked Spirit clenched his fists, furious.
—Perfect! Now I have even more reason to kill you!
He shot downward.
But before he could reach him, the spear glowed with a violent flash. Jiro's body, instinctively, reacted: his arm rose and unleashed a vertical slash of spiritual power.
A crimson wave expanded in all directions.
The entire cave shook.
The ground cracked.
The air trembled.
And outside…
The sky turned red.
From the village, his mother and grandfather watched the scarlet light tear across the horizon.
From atop a tree, Shinji, the mysterious hermit, opened his eyes as the energy split the sky.
The Spirit was hurled brutally against a cavern wall, shattering his mask into a thousand pieces and finally revealing his face. He bled.
He stood, swaying, now floating high above, gasping.
—This can't be… this is bad… this is very bad…
—I have to kill you right now, brat!
Raging, he dashed toward him at full speed.
But this time… Jiro rose too.
The pendant shone intensely, and his body became wrapped in a burning crimson aura.
Red markings appeared on his cheeks, his horns glowed like fire, and his eyes…
blazed like living embers.
And then, in a single instant…
Jiro crossed the air with a slash as fast as light.
The Spirit was cut cleanly and sent flying into a distant mountain… which was pulverized into a cloud of rock and fire.
The sky roared.
The world froze.
And in the air, floating among embers and silence…
Jiro Kamimizu opened his eyes, transformed.
—It ends now…
The crater still smoked, and the echoes of the previous slash rumbled through the nearby valleys. Jiro floated with the spear in his hands, the Higetsu no Yari glowing with an intensity never seen before. The power flowing through his body felt unstable, like an overflowing river.
—Aahhh, sorry…! —he exclaimed as an involuntary diagonal slash cut across a nearby mountain, creating a fissure that stretched hundreds of meters, toppling rocks and trees.
He looked at the spear, nervous but excited.
—It's just that... I don't really have control over this power yet! Everything's happening so fast…
Crimson energy danced around his body, wrapping him like sacred fire. His eyes gleamed like lit embers, and his horns shone like rubies under the sun. The mark of his Oni heritage pulsed with power.
—Damn brat…! —roared the now-unmasked spirit, blood running down his face. His expression was a blend of fury, desperation, and fear—. How could you have become so strong… in so little time?!
The air grew denser. The sky roared… with balls of purple fire, each one charged with a dark intensity that scorched the very air. He launched them in fury, one after another, creating a blazing storm that seemed impossible to stop.
—DIEEEEE! —screamed the spirit, unleashing a final blast that formed a massive fiery sphere spinning with spectral power.
But Jiro, with the crimson spear in his hands, didn't take a single step back in the air.
—I won't die here…! —he shouted, and with a swift spin of his body, the Higetsu no Yari slashed the sky. A vertical cut of crimson energy split the purple fire, dispersing it like smoke, breaking it into burning particles.
Each time the spirit hurled a fireball, Jiro cut it down with ease, his movements now more firm, more natural. The spear seemed to guide his arm, as if it knew the rhythm of battle better than he did.
And then, they both moved as one.
The sky was torn by a horizontal slash. Jiro spun on himself, leaving a trail of red light in his wake. The spirit barely managed to dodge, but the slash's wave ripped part of his clothing and burned his left arm.
—GRAGHHHH! —he roared in pain.
Jiro vanished in a crimson flash and reappeared behind him, spinning the spear over his head.
Hundreds of thrusts wrapped in red fire rained down on the masked spirit, each one with the force of a meteor. The spirit barely managed to block or dodge as the sky turned red and distant trees were swept away by the pressure.
The air vibrated.
The earth trembled.
And Jiro, with a fierce smile and eyes still wet with unfallen tears, fought not just to survive, but to honor his father, his mother… and himself.
—This is my will…! —Jiro roared—. I won't lose now!
The spear in Jiro's hands trembled. Not out of fear… but because of the pressure of a power beyond the earthly realm. His wounded body and spirit consumed by rage didn't seek vengeance, but justice. Before him, the spirit recoiled, panting, floating with its diffused form, no longer carrying its former arrogance.
—That energy… that blazing red glow… even the Crimson power can be used...? —whispered the specter with a shudder—. Who the hell is this brat…?
An emerald green flash burst from the spirit's chest. Its trembling hand lifted a loom talisman, with an ancient stone that began to pulse with a living heartbeat, as if it knew its master was in danger. A sharp sound cut through the air as the talisman unfolded like a twisted flower of energy, tearing the space open with a dimensional rift spiraling like a hungry vortex.
—I'm out of here! —the spirit screamed, terrified—. This can't stay like this… I'll let the Spirit Lord know… right now!
But then, a louder, fiercer, and more ironclad voice thundered:
—NO! —Jiro roared, his eyes burning deep red—. I won't let you leave here… without paying for what you've done!
The ground cracked beneath his feet. The veins of the earth glowed crimson. And then, the spear… grew.
It was no ordinary spear. It was an extension of the soul itself. In the blink of an eye, the weapon extended as if it sought to touch the heavens. It was enormous, immeasurable, as if the will of a god had embodied itself. Its blade seemed to pierce the horizon.
From the village, the people looked up. Some screamed. Others fell to their knees. The mountains trembled. The clouds parted.
—What is that thing…?! —they screamed in confusion and awe.
On a nearby hill, Shinji stopped upon recognizing the figure wielding the infinite spear.
—Is that… Jiro!? —he said breathlessly—. What's he doing… with Crimson power?
And then, without further delay, Jiro raised the spear, and with a shout that split the sky, unleashed a colossal slash. A crimson beam of light, as immense as the sea and as fast as a lightning strike, descended upon the spirit with a force that seemed to condemn the world.
—NOOOOO! —the specter screamed as it extended its hand, launching a wave of energy into the open rift—. SPIRIT LORD! HEAR ME…!
But the slash fell. And with it, the world seemed to shake.
An explosion of mana, fire, and Crimson energy rocked the skies. The loom talisman shattered into fragments of green light, flashing like broken crystals before fading into nothing.
The rift closed.
Everything went silent.
Jiro floated in the air, panting, his body trembling and the spear gradually shrinking, until it vanished into light. His crimson armor also began to break apart, as if it couldn't hold together any longer.
—Finally… it's over —he whispered through labored breaths.
And then, everything blurred. The lights, the colors, the sounds. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a figure approaching through the mist… an indecipherable silhouette, calm… almost familiar.
…
The sun gently filtered through the window.
Jiro opened his eyes with difficulty, his breath still heavy. He was in his bed. His room. A safe, quiet place… but his mind was a whirlwind.
—Where am I…? —he murmured—. What… happened…?
Suddenly, he remembered.
—Rayjou! —he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.
He hurried downstairs. There, in the living room, Shinji and his grandfather were waiting, sitting in front of the now-resting spear. The air was heavy with something more than silence: it was judgment, it was concern… and it was respect.
The old man looked at Jiro with hard eyes, slowly crossing his arms.
—We need to talk seriously, Jiro… —he said—. And I want you to explain this to me.
Shinji intervened, his tone much softer:
—Don't worry about Rayjou Tamashi… he's fine. His wounds… disappeared. As if he was never hurt. You healed him, Jiro.
The grandfather repeated, in a grave voice that left no room for evasion:
—So… what exactly are you?
Jiro lowered his gaze. His hands trembled.
—I can explain… —he whispered, his heart pounding.
…
Far from there, on the devastated hill where everything had happened, stones floated in the air. The space seemed distorted. From among the ruins, a spectral murmur broke the silence.
—That brat… will pay…
Jin, the defeated spirit, dragged what remained of his ethereal form. His body was in tatters, half of his essence scattered. Yet, his eyes burned with rage.
—I, Jin, servant of the Spirit Lord… will finish this… —he said in a trembling voice.
He approached what remained of the Shiketsu, the fractured mystical structure… and merged with it. A dark energy coursed through the cracks.
—In three days… —he whispered with fury—. In three days… I'll finish the bearer of the spear…
Reality itself wavered. A faint, almost imperceptible fracture appeared in the sky… as if the world had felt the threat.
And silence returned.
For now.