Ryu and Kaze rode past the fallen bandits, their horses careful as hooves stepped over shattered spears and broken blades. Ryu's katana swung lightly at his hip, the edge still warm from the last strike of Lost Sun. His red-and-black Aura hummed, faint but restless. Beside him, Kaze's silver Aura was quiet now, his katana sheathed, eyes never still as they scanned the cliffs above. Forty corpses lay behind them, their leader's axe snapped in two, sundered by Kaze's wave. The battle was done—but the air still held its echo.
At the far end of the valley, a black carriage waited, lacquered to a sheen, its gold trim catching light like a whisper. Two warriors stood at its sides—neither bandit nor traveler. Their armor gleamed, their stances measured. One wore a dark blue cuirass with a coiled dragon etched across the breastplate, a katana at his side. The other stood broader, thicker in the arms, gripping a long naginata. His armor was green, a crouched tiger etched in silver. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. Their presence said enough.
Kaze reined in his horse first, his voice low. "Iron Vipers," he said, nodding toward the dragon crest. "Not just hill thugs. They run these parts—ambush nobles, steal tax trains, kidnap for coin. Those two… they're the heads."
Ryu's fingers curled around his reins. His Dragon's Eye pulsed beneath his eyelid, unlit but alert. The Ox was close. Closer than ever. But the carriage—there was something about it. Something off. "What are they guarding?" he asked, tone flat but focused.
Kaze glanced at him, a faint smirk rising. "That's your call, kid. We can ride on. Or we fight, and we find out. Either way—we follow your lead."
Ryu studied the two warriors. They weren't desperate. They weren't cornered. They were guarding something. And his instincts—honed through blood, loss, and steel—told him this wasn't a coincidence. "We find out," he said quietly. He dismounted, hand brushing the hilt of his blade. "They're hiding something."
Kaze nodded, following suit, his katana sliding loose from the scabbard. "Alright then. Let's ask the hard way."
The dragon-armored warrior stepped forward, his tone like stone. "I'm Daigo. Lord of the Iron Vipers. This is Hajiro," he said, nodding to the naginata-wielder beside him. "You've spilled enough blood today, ronin. Walk away. You'll leave with your lives."
Ryu didn't flinch. His voice was even, his stare unwavering. "What's in the carriage?"
Hajiro shifted, his naginata tilting forward like a spear. "Not your concern. Last chance. Go."
Kaze gave Ryu a sidelong glance. No words this time—just waiting.
Ryu's jaw set. "We're not leaving. Open it. Or we will.
Daigo moved first, his katana flashing free. Hajiro followed, a growl in his throat. "Your funeral," Daigo said—and lunged.
Steel rang out. Ryu met Daigo in the center, their blades clashing like thunder. Sparks flew as Kaze took Hajiro's charge, the naginata meeting silver blade, both warriors lost in a blur.
Ryu's Dragon's Eye flared, his right eye glowing faintly beneath the light. He saw Daigo's every twitch, every angle before it formed. The man's movements were disciplined, efficient—deadly. But they were human. No Aura, no Sun-Harness. Just strength. Just steel.
Across the field, Hajiro's naginata tore through the air, grazing Kaze's sleeve, a red line blooming. But Kaze moved with cold grace, his silver Aura surging. He struck low, then high, his blade cracking through green armor.
Dust coiled around them. From the cliffs, villagers watched in silence, too afraid to step closer, too drawn to look away.
Ryu parried high, ducked low. Daigo's swordsmanship was sharp—refined, even noble. Ryu could've ended it with Aura, could've let the Sun take over. But something in Daigo's stance—his posture, his pride—made him pause. This wasn't the Ox. This wasn't a monster.
Ryu closed his Dragon's Eye. Let the glow fade. He stepped back, blade steady, and spoke loud and clear.
"You fight like a samurai," he said. "Then fight with honor."
Daigo stilled. His katana paused mid-air. He looked at Ryu—really looked. Something behind his eyes shifted. "Honor," he muttered. "Haven't heard that word in a while."
Kaze's head snapped toward them, a flash of memory in his gaze. He said nothing, but his fight with Hajiro halted. The green-armored man stood panting, blood trailing down his leg, armor cracked.
Daigo gave a slow nod. "Alright, boy. Let's see your steel."
They circled—no magic, no fire, no divine light. Just two blades, two men. Ryu moved first. He was fast—faster than Daigo could track. A cut across the armguard. A twist. A step to the side. Blood bloomed in short bursts.
Daigo struck back, catching Ryu's shoulder—but it was shallow. Ryu spun, sliced the chestplate, then leapt back. He didn't need Aura. His body remembered every lesson. Every cut. Every time Kaze knocked him into the dirt for being slow.
Kaze and Hajiro clashed again. Silver crashed against iron. Hajiro roared, his tiger armor splitting as Kaze's blade struck true—deep into the thigh. Hajiro fell, his naginata slipping from his grasp.
Ryu pressed forward. His katana flickered like flame, his footwork a dance. Daigo fought hard, but he was slowing. One more strike—a low sweep—cut through tendon. Daigo dropped to one knee. His blade slipped from numb fingers.
"Yield," Ryu said, placing his sword at Daigo's throat. "This doesn't have to end in death."
Daigo coughed once. His mouth twisted—not in anger, but in something close to admiration. "You're no kid," he said. "Name?"
"Ryu."
Daigo nodded. "Then open it. You've earned that much."
Kaze dispatched Hajiro with a final slash—clean, controlled. Non-lethal. The man groaned and slumped, bound seconds later. Kaze joined Ryu, his voice quiet. "That was clean work. Good call, too. Not many choose the blade without fire."
They approached the carriage. Ryu threw open the door.
A girl—no, a young woman—sat inside. Maybe eighteen. Silk kimono, hair tied high, hands folded neatly on her lap. She met Ryu's eyes without flinching. "I'm Lady Aiko, daughter of Lord Taroji," she said, her voice composed but heavy with restraint. "They took me for ransom. You're not with them. So—who are you?"
Ryu blinked. She wasn't what he expected. "Ryu. This is Kaze. We're just… passing through."
Kaze leaned slightly forward, eyes on her. "You're safe now, Lady Aiko. Are your father's men close?"
Aiko's lips tightened. "They're dead. Or lost. The Iron Vipers hit our convoy days ago. I've been in this box ever since. Get me to Kyo, and I'll see you paid well."
Kaze turned to Ryu, voice low. "Your choice again. Kyo's not our road."
Ryu hesitated. The Ox's trail was hot. The Spirit Realm still called. But Aiko's eyes—calm, proud, defiant—struck something in him. A memory. A vow.
"We'll get you to safety," he said, tone steady. "Then we move on."
Aiko stepped from the carriage, her kimono dusty but her head held high. Behind her, Daigo and Hajiro sat bound, their eyes hard but empty. The fight had left them.
Kaze clapped a hand to Ryu's shoulder. "You're changing, kid. That sword fight… the way you stepped back? That was real. Reminded me of someone I knew."
Ryu gave a small grin. "You, maybe?"
Kaze chuckled once. "Maybe."
They loaded Aiko onto the spare horse, bound the Viper lords to the carriage's rear, and set the wheels turning. Dust rose behind them as they left the battlefield.
The cliffs watched silently. The wind carried cherry blossoms across their path. Ryu's katana felt different—heavier. Not from exhaustion, but meaning. His Aura still stirred quietly beneath his skin.
The Ox was waiting. But so was the road.
And the road had chosen them.