Hall of the Kinji Elders
The air was thick with the stench of sweat and iron, the stone hall dim under flickering torchlight. The circle of elders tightened, their silhouettes jagged against the walls. HITORI
"No majic. We'll crush him with raw hands." RENGA
"A whelp. I'll tear his throat out first." MASORA
"Quiet. We end him as one." Dylan spat a gob of blood, the metallic tang coating his tongue as he smeared his split lip with a trembling hand.
DYLAN
"Come try, then." The Clash
Renga charged, his fist a sledgehammer aimed at Dylan's skull. Dylan twisted inside the strike, driving an elbow into Renga's ribs with a wet crunch. Renga's breath exploded out, flecks of spit and blood spraying as he stumbled. Hitori's heel arced high, a scythe meant to cave Dylan's temple. Dylan threw up a forearm, the impact jarring bone, then snapped his head forward. His forehead smashed Hitori's nose, cartilage collapsing in a gush of red. Hitori reeled, clawing at his ruined face. Masora darted low, her blade glinting as she reversed its grip for a gutting slash. Dylan spun, barely dodging the steel, and rammed his knee into her jaw. Teeth cracked, blood sprayed, and Masora's head snapped back, her body skidding across the stone. The elders regrouped, circling like wolves, their breaths ragged. Blood dripped from Hitori's mangled nose, pooling at his feet. RENGA
"He fights like a rabid dog." DYLAN
"No. I fight to breathe." They rushed him as one—three predators in a blur of fists, feet, and flashing steel. Renga's knuckles split Dylan's cheek, bone bruising under the blow. Masora's kick slammed into his ribs, snapping one with a sickening pop. Hitori's blade carved a shallow gash across Dylan's chest, blood welling in crimson rivulets. Dylan roared, pain fueling him. He hooked Renga's jaw with a fist, teeth flying in a bloody arc. His heel whipped around, crashing into Masora's stomach—her guts churned audibly as she doubled over, vomiting blood. Hitori lunged with a slash; Dylan parried with his forearm, the blade biting deep. He answered with a wild uppercut, splitting Hitori's arm open, muscle and tendon exposed in a glistening red mess. The stone floor fractured under their fury, the hall a cacophony of grunts, screams, and the wet slap of flesh on flesh. Blood painted the ground, slick underfoot.
Renga's fist caught Dylan's jaw, a brutal haymaker that sent him crashing to the stone, skull ringing. Blood pooled under his face as the elders closed in, their shadows swallowing him. MASORA
"Rip him apart." Dylan's fingers clawed the floor, nails splintering as he gripped a kunai and drove it into the stone. DYLAN
"…Bloom." The ground erupted. Roots tore through stone like jagged claws, crimson blossoms unfurling in a violent storm. Petals sharp as razors swirled, a red maelstrom that shredded everything. Renga screamed as petals flayed his arms to ribbons, skin hanging in tattered strips, blood gushing down his shredded limbs. Hitori staggered, his body a canvas of lacerations—hundreds of cuts weeping red, his left eye slashed blind, vitreous fluid mixing with blood. Masora shrieked, poison searing her veins, her skin blackening as capillaries burst, her face a mask of agony as she clawed at her own flesh. Dylan rose in the heart of the petal storm, chest heaving, blood streaming from his wounds. His eyes burned with defiance, a predator among the broken. DYLAN
"Next time… bring your majic." The petals settled, a crimson snow blanketing the blood-slick floor. The elders collapsed, Renga cradling his ruined arms, Hitori choking on his own blood, Masora writhing as poison ate her alive. Their pride lay shattered, drowned in the red tide of Dylan's wrath.
The hall was silent—silent but for the drip of blood.
Masora's body twitched once, then stilled. Renga lay facedown in a pool of red. Hitori's hand stretched toward his blade, frozen before death claimed him.
The petals, still faintly glowing, sank into the floor like embers fading. Dylan dropped to one knee, his chest heaving, hands trembling from the backlash of his technique.
A low clap echoed through the chamber.
???
Impressive. You killed them all. Without me lifting a finger.
The voice was calm, smooth, layered with weight. Dylan turned sharply, kunai still clenched.
From the shadows of the hall's upper balcony, a tall man descended. His presence alone shifted the air—dense, suffocating, yet elegant. His robes were black and silver, embroidered with sharp lines like sound waves. His hair tied back, streaks of gray running through it, eyes the same piercing amber as Hakari's.
???
So you're the boy. The one Hakari drags along.
Dylan tightened his grip.
DYLAN
…Who are you?
The man smiled faintly.
KINJI RYOUMA
I am Kinji Ryōma. Hakari's father. Clan Head.
(pausing, gaze flicking to the corpses)
And you've just slaughtered my council.
Dylan's chest clenched. The weight of the man's aura pressed like chains around his body—stronger, darker, infinitely more terrifying than the elders.
A shadow shifted above them. Hakari dropped from the rafters, landing lazily beside Dylan, stretching like he had just woken up.
HAKARI
(cheerful, mocking)
Oi, pops. I see you've met Dylan. Don't scowl like that—you were never fond of those fossils anyway.
Ryōma's eyes narrowed.
RYOUMA
Hakari… still playing the fool.
Hakari smirked, flashing his signature playboy grin.
HAKARI
Better than ending up boring like you.
The father's aura thickened, shaking the hall. Dylan staggered, sweat pouring down his face. Hakari, however, only yawned.
RYOUMA
You bring outsiders here. You let him slaughter my elders. And now you mock me?
Hakari tapped Dylan's shoulder, whispering in his ear.
HAKARI
(quietly, with a smirk)
Told you to save your strength, little brother. Things are about to get loud.
The weight of Ryōma's aura was unbearable—like the walls themselves had collapsed on Dylan's chest. His knees buckled, his breath rasping as if he were drowning in air too heavy to inhale. His kunai slipped from his hand, clattering against the blood-soaked floor.
DYLAN
(hoarse, whispering)
I… can't…
The room blurred, petals and corpses fading into shadows. And then—darkness gave way to memory.
He saw himself as a boy, sitting on his mother's lap beneath a tree blooming with pale blossoms. Her hands were rough from work but gentle as they combed through his hair mama.
CHILD DYLAN
Mama where is papa.
DYLAN'S MOTHER
He is in the sky waiting for us no worry he is strong he will come see you again
DYLAN
Mama am I strong
DYLAN'S MOTHER
(laughing softly)
You'll be strong one day, Dylan. Stronger than any one.
She pressed a wooden toy sword into his hands—crude, carved with love. He had swung it clumsily, nearly falling over, and she laughed until tears formed at the edges of her eyes.
Another memory: the smell of stew boiling over a small fire, her humming a lullaby. The world outside was war, but in their little home, it felt safe, whole. He remembered drifting to sleep against her shoulder, the rhythm of her heartbeat steady, eternal.
Then the screams of war. Fire on the horizon. His mother's hand gripping his small wrist, dragging him through smoke and ash. The banners of King Morrigan's army cut across the sky—black birds stitched onto crimson. The clash of steel rang everywhere, drowning out his heartbeat.
DYLAN'S MOTHER
(run, voice trembling)
Don't look back, Dylan! Just keep running!
He remembered turning his head anyway. His mother stood between him and a soldier's blade, eyes full of fire, defiance in her blood. She screamed as steel pierced her side.
The world shattered in that moment. The warmth of her hand fell away. He fell to the mud, tears streaming as he watched her collapse.
And then—light swallowed the darkness. A massive force pulled him back, away from death. A man stood tall, his presence fierce yet protective. Murphy.
The soldier's blade bent under unseen gravity, snapping like straw. Rocks tore from the ground and crushed the enemies around him. Murphy lifted the boy into his arms, his voice steady despite the chaos.
MURPHY
(quietly, almost gently)
It's alright now, Dylan. You'll live.
Dylan remembered sobbing into his chest as the battlefield burned, his mother's body fading in the distance. That day, he lost everything. But Murphy gave him a new chance at life.
Back in the present, Dylan's eyes flickered open, hazy with tears. His body trembled, consciousness slipping like sand through his fingers. He coughed blood onto the stone floor, whispering to no one and everyone.
DYLAN
(murmuring, almost delirious)
…Mother… Murphy… I… can't fail… not now.
Ryōma watched with cold eyes, unimpressed.
RYOUMA
Pathetic. You can't even stand.
Hakari, still lounging with that careless smirk, leaned closer to Dylan, his voice a playful whisper against the storm of his father's presence.
HAKARI
Relax, Dylie. Don't go dying yet. You'll ruin my dramatic entrance
The room shook with the crackle of Ryōma's lightning, sparks bursting along the shattered walls. Dylan lay at the edge, barely conscious, his body twitching every time the thunder rumbled.
From the rafters above, a lazy yawn echoed.
HAKARI
(drawling, with a smirk)
Man, you elders really know how to ruin the mood. I was this close to napping.
He dropped lightly onto the floor, boots tapping with careless rhythm. His hair caught the glow of the lightning, and his smile was infuriatingly calm.
Ryōma's gaze hardened.
RYŌMA
Hakari. You dare return after betraying your clan?
Hakari twirled a kunai, his voice adopting a mocking, almost British accent.
HAKARI
Oh, Father, please—no need to be so dramatic. Betrayal is such an ugly word. I prefer… "extended vacation."
Lightning cracked from Ryōma's fingers, spearing toward Hakari. The air sizzled, the room blinding with white. But Hakari didn't flinch. His body blurred—then vanished.
RYŌMA
(hissing)
Illusions?
A dozen Hakaris appeared around the chamber, lounging against pillars, leaning casually in midair, one even pretending to sip tea. Their voices overlapped, playful and taunting.
HAKARI (ILLUSIONS)
(chuckling)
Took you long enough to notice. Light, sound… bend them just right, and you can turn reality into a stage. And me? I'm the star, baby.