Eight days had passed since Ryu and Kaze rode north, leaving the village behind. Goro stood in the village square, sweat streaking his brow as he hauled timber beside Soma and the two spearmen. The sun was high, warmth baking the dirt underfoot, the sharp scent of sawdust mixing with smoke from cooking fires. The once-shattered huts had begun to rise again—simple, sturdy, a promise of peace. Children darted through gaps between walls, laughing as they chased one another with wooden sticks.
Goro's nodachi leaned against a wall nearby, the weight of it always in his mind. Soma, one-armed but relentless, grunted as he set another plank into place. Tetsuo and Kenji, recovered and in good spirits, laughed over some crude joke, their bandaged arms flexing as they hammered beams into shape.
Goro paused, wiping his face with a rag. "Kid's probably slicing mountains by now," he muttered, gaze lifting to the northern ridgeline.
Soma scoffed, shoving a nail into a beam. "Or getting lost in the woods with that smug bastard."
"Either way," Goro said, half-smiling, "he's not the same kid from the teahouse."
Before Soma could retort, the wind shifted. A sudden chill cut through the heat, cold and unnatural. Goro stiffened. The hammering stopped. Birds went silent.
Then, a figure appeared at the edge of the village—crimson armor gleaming, twin katanas sheathed at his waist. Scarred face like weathered stone. Hideo.
The village stilled. The air grew heavy.
Soma stepped forward, mouth tightening. "That… he's no damn scout."
Goro grabbed his nodachi, instinct roaring. "Everyone inside," he barked to the villagers. "Now.
Hideo stopped in the square, boots crunching dry earth. "By order of the Imperial Family," he rasped, "Goro and the Silver Fang are to be eliminated."
No more words.
He moved.
Tetsuo was dead before he turned. A red arc opened across his chest, blood spraying as he dropped like a stone. Kenji's spear snapped in his hands—his head fell with it. Soma shouted, drawing his katana with one good hand, but Hideo spun and kicked him hard enough to splinter a wall. Soma crashed through it, vanishing in dust and debris.
Goro roared, charging. Hideo met him in the middle, blades flashing. Goro's swing was wide, heavy—but Hideo's twin blades moved like water. One parried, the other bit deep into Goro's thigh.
Pain screamed up his leg. Goro gritted his teeth, stayed upright. Blood soaked his pants.
"Who the hell are you?" he growled.
Hideo's eyes were unreadable. "Hideo. Seventh Blade." His next strike almost took Goro's arm. "You're done, mercenary."
The square erupted in chaos. Huts caught fire, Aura sparks dancing from the blades, igniting the thatch. Screams rose as villagers scattered, smoke curling into the sky. Soma staggered from the wreckage, bloodied but upright, his katana dragging.
Hideo spun, slicing clean through Goro's defenses. The nodachi flew from his hands. A second later, Hideo seized him by the throat and slammed him into a scorched wall.
"You've seen them," he hissed. "Kaze. The warrior with the red-and-black Aura. Where are they?"
Goro gasped, nails digging into Hideo's wrist. "Go… to hell."
Hideo's face darkened. "You insolent—"
His Aura flared—green first, then gold, hot enough to boil flesh.
Flames burst from his hand.
Goro didn't scream long. His body blackened in seconds, limbs curling into ash. Hideo let the remains fall, stepping back as embers drifted in the air.
Soma lunged—too slow. Hideo turned, slashing him across the chest. Soma fell again, unmoving.
Hideo's Aura dimmed. The square smoldered. Only the wind remained.
"Kaze…" he muttered, scanning the horizon. "You can't run forever."
And then he was gone—heading north, a shadow among ashes.
⸻
Three days later, deep in a rocky valley, Ryu and Kaze rode side by side, their horses steady on the trail. Dust trailed behind them. The sun bore down from above, but the air was cool in the canyon's shade. Ryu's katana rested against his hip, his Aura stable, Dragon's Eye quiet beneath the surface.
Kaze glanced sideways. "You've been quiet."
"Thinking," Ryu said. "About Goro. Soma. The village."
Kaze nodded, gaze forward. "They're tough. They'll manage."
Ryu didn't answer. The silence between them wasn't empty—just heavy.
Then came the shout. From above.
"Drop your gear!"
Bandits. Nearly forty. They poured from ledges and crevices, swords gleaming, spears raised. The leader, thick-necked and scarred, stepped forward, grinning. "Or we gut you and take it anyway."
Kaze's expression didn't change. "Bad day to try us."
Ryu slid off his horse. The Dragon's Eye flickered on—his right eye gleaming gold and silver. The world slowed. Every footstep, every stance, every twitch lit up in his mind.
His voice dropped. "Let's end this."
Sun-Harness surged.
"Lost Sun."
A ring of red-and-black flame exploded around him, Aura igniting the earth. A sphere of searing heat engulfed the nearest twenty bandits—they screamed, burned, and vanished in seconds. The smell of charred flesh filled the valley.
Kaze leapt down, katana drawn. "Nice start, kid."
The remaining bandits charged—ten toward each of them.
Ryu moved like wind. His katana flashed, slicing clean through a spearman's chest. He ducked an archer's shot, cut the man in half. Sword Aura burned on his blade—sharp, brutal. One swung behind him, but the Dragon's Eye saw it—Ryu turned and opened the man's gut in one fluid strike.
In seconds, five were dead.
The last rushed him in desperation—he swept low, then rose with a blazing arc, cleaving through all of them.
He turned. Kaze had already dropped six. A silver blur, his Aura danced with precision, cutting down anyone who came near.
The bandit leader charged with a massive axe. Kaze met him, parried once, then opened his body from shoulder to hip.
The rest tried to flee.
Kaze raised his blade. A silver wave crashed forward, slicing their backs clean open. Silence followed.
The valley stank of blood and burnt flesh. Kaze wiped his blade.
"That Lost Sun…" he said, breathing hard. "Where'd you pull that from?"
Ryu sheathed his katana, his heart steady. "It came to me. Like it was waiting."
Kaze let out a short laugh. "Clicked, huh? You're a damn prodigy. Most swordsmen train for years and never touch that depth."
Ryu looked at the ash around him. "If I didn't have it, we'd be dead."
"Maybe," Kaze said. "But don't let it carry you. Master it. Or it'll burn you instead."
Ryu nodded slowly. "I will. We're close, aren't we?"
Kaze's face darkened. "Too close. Ox's men are monsters. Be ready."
They mounted again. The horses pressed forward.
The valley smoked behind them. The cliffs were quiet.
And somewhere ahead, blood waited.