Nightfall at the Rift Village
The starlight struggled to shine through the thick haze that lingered over the rift zone.It was unnaturally silent—no wind, no insects, no life.
The four chosen stood beneath the shrouded sky:Gyomei Himejima, the Stone Hashira, quiet and resolute.Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira, ever sharp and ready.Akaza, demon of fury, proud and focused.And Kokushibo, the silent blade of the night, ex-Hashira turned Upper Rank One.
"The air," Kokushibo murmured, his six eyes scanning the distant shadows. "It is corrupted."
"Feels like the Slayer's world already seeped into this place," Sanemi muttered, hand on his blade.
"These are just cultist-scattered zones. We tear through them," Akaza cracked his knuckles. "Then we return."
"Do not let your guard down," Gyomei intoned, beads in hand. "Evil comes hidden."
The ground crunched beneath their feet—bones, not rocks.
The first ambush was almost pitiful.
Malformed demons—thin, crawling, eyes sunken with fanatic madness—rushed from the ruined huts and altar stones.
"Wind Breathing: Fourth Form – Rising Dust Storm!"Sanemi spun with violent grace, shredding limbs and torsos, blood mist rising like smoke.
"Stone Breathing: Third Form – Stone Skin Fortress."Gyomei shielded Akaza's flank with solid footwork and brute strength, his chained flail crushing skulls in thunderous arcs.
"Destructive Death – Compass Needle!"Akaza vanished, then reappeared in the center of a dozen cultist demons. A single punch sent shockwaves, splitting the ground beneath them.
"Moon Breathing: Eighth Form – Moon-Dragon Ringtail."Kokushibo moved like a phantom, his blade weaving violet moonlight into arcing death, slicing demons in symmetrical halves.
Within minutes, the lesser demons were annihilated.
The four regrouped. Not a scratch among them.
"Too easy," Akaza scoffed.
"You tempt fate when you mock the dark," Gyomei replied solemnly.
"What's that stench?" Sanemi growled.
They turned toward the center of the village.
At the Ruined Shrine
Lit only by the flickering red glow of warped sigils, the shrine was a crater of dried blood and splintered stone.
They heard it before they saw it:
Ripping. Tearing. Gurgling.
Atop a pile of writhing human remains stood a towering figure—armored, horned, and grotesque.
It held a mangled man by the spine—then ripped him in half, tossing the remains to a swarm of crawling demons at its feet.
The creatures feasted like vermin.
Then it turned.And looked at them.
Eyes like burning coals, mouth sealed with bone-metal, horns curved back like a ram's.
Its blade was massive, jagged, etched with foreign ruins.
"That…" Akaza said slowly. "Isn't like the others."
"No…" Kokushibo's eyes narrowed. "That is a true soldier. One of Hell's breed."
"Tch. Took your time showing up," Sanemi unsheathed his blade. "Let's see if your head comes off easy."
"Move carefully," Gyomei warned. "This… this is not mere flesh and curse."
The Death Knight stepped off the altar, the feeding demons scattering beneath its boots.
Then it charged.
Pairs of Strength
The four responded with perfect, battle-forged instinct.
Kokushibo and Akaza shifted right—Upper Ranks side by side, deadly in tandem.
Sanemi and Gyomei took the left, breath forms activated.
"Stone Breathing: Fifth Form – Arcs of Justice!"
"Wind Breathing: Sixth Form – Black Wind Mountain Mist!"
Steel and wind clashed with the knight's blade. Sparks flew. Ground cracked. The shockwaves rattled the village.
"Destructive Death – Annihilation Type!"Akaza's fists hammered its flank.
"Moon Breathing: Tenth Form – Phantom Moonflower!"Kokushibo's slashes traced glowing moons through the air.
But the knight blocked them all.
Its blade struck back—raw power, no grace—Each swing felt like a siege weapon.
Sanemi dodged narrowly, but the tip grazed his side, slicing armor and drawing blood.
"He's not just strong…" he spat. "He's a damn fortress."
Kokushibo's blade finally landed a hit—sparks flew as metal clanged on bone-armor. The knight paused—but did not bleed.
Then it slammed its blade down—
Gyomei caught the blow on his chained flail, his legs sinking into the earth from the force.
"We can't take him head-on," Akaza growled. "We have to outmaneuver him."
"Use formations," Kokushibo commanded. "Time for real cooperation."
They shifted to a hunting rhythm—two from afar, two from up close.Sanemi's wind forced the knight to guard its flank.Kokushibo's moonlight rained down in waves.Gyomei's crushing weight stunned it.Akaza's speed punished its moments of recovery.
Even so… it kept coming.
It never tired.Never spoke.Never screamed.It was death given form.
And finally—Crack.
Kokushibo's blade struck its arm joint—and snapped.
"What?" he said aloud, shocked.
The knight seized Kokushibo's wrist—And ripped his entire arm off.
"AAAAAARRRGH!!"
Kokushibo staggered back, regenerating—But the pain was real.
Sanemi and Gyomei leapt in, blades blazing.Akaza roared and struck its jaw with a spiraling punch that caved part of the helmet.
The knight faltered.
Finally—They made it bleed.A thick, black ooze, burning the ground where it landed.
"He's slowing!" Akaza shouted.
"Together!" Gyomei yelled. "Now!"
All four charged again, a final coordinated strike—As the knight let out a low, echoing growl.