Thunder roared above the ruins.
The night sky cracked open as lightning painted the stone walls of the forgotten city in blue and white.
Arata Yukimura stood at the gates of Natsukami,
a city once blessed by kings,
now crawling with whispers.
Behind him, Kaede Igarashi adjusted her tattered scholar's robe, her face stained with ash and dried blood.
"This is where it begins, Arata," she murmured.
"Where you meet the others… and where your death might be written in prophecy."
The gate creaked open.
Inside, the city was nothing like the ruins they'd expected.
Glowing sigils floated mid-air like ancient fireflies.
Broken towers pulsed with low magical hums.
And in the center, under a giant inverted sigil, stood a circle of warriors—
Each with a curse-mark glowing on their skin.
Each bearing the weight of a kingdom's fear.
Kaede stepped forward.
"These are the Sigil Bearers. Rebels, heretics… monsters, like us."
One of them, a tall woman with silver dreadlocks and a wolf carved into her armor, stepped out.
"You brought him?" she growled.
"The Corpsebrand boy?"
Kaede nodded.
"He broke the Vault of Screams."
Whispers exploded among the warriors.
"He's real?"
"The Eighth Sigil has awakened?"
"The Forbidden Flame lives again?"
The silver-haired woman didn't look impressed.
"We've buried legends before. He bleeds like anyone else?"
She walked up to Arata, eyes cold as steel.
"Name?"
Arata held her gaze.
"Arata Yukimura. The last of the Kuro-Sigil bloodline."
Her eye twitched.
That name had weight.
"Liar."
She struck—
fast as lightning.
A blade pressed to his throat.
"Prove it," she whispered.
"Or I'll carve your truth out of your spine."
> "Let me loose,"
the Corpsebrand whispered in Arata's mind.
"She wants proof? Show her extinction."
But Arata didn't answer the voice.
Instead, he gritted his teeth and raised his hand.
From beneath his skin, the sigil flared—twice.
Not once.
Twice.
Two marks.
One was the Corpsebrand.
The other… something far older.
The circle of warriors went dead silent.
Kaede's voice trembled.
"He carries a dual sigil…"
The silver-haired woman backed away slowly.
"…that's impossible."
A young man stepped forward.
Skin covered in red runes. Eyes half-mad.
"Impossible? No… it's prophecy."
He pointed at the burning sky.
"The Book of Graves said: 'When two curses live in one flesh, the world shall kneel or break.'"
Suddenly—
BOOM!!
A horn blared across the city walls.
Smoke. Shadows. Screams.
The sky turned crimson.
The Empire had found them.
Kaede cursed.
"They're using Soul-Hunters! The ones that eat magic itself!"
The silver-haired warrior barked,
"To arms! Sigil Bearers—form the Death Circle!"
But something was wrong.
Too many shadows.
Too fast.
Arata's eyes widened—
"They didn't send an army…"
"…they sent him."
The air shifted.
Everything fell quiet.
Then…
A figure appeared at the city gate.
Tall. Calm. Masked.
He wore black armor carved with seven royal crests—
one for each kingdom that had fallen to him.
His mask was cracked across the left cheek,
revealing just one green eye, glowing with ancient sorrow.
Kaede froze.
Her lips trembled.
"No… it can't be."
Arata turned.
"Who is that?"
She swallowed.
"General Seijuro Kaien."
"The Blade of Ten Thousand Graves."
The sigil bearers backed away.
Seijuro raised one hand—
And all the sigils in the city began to die.
> "Run, boy," the Corpsebrand hissed.
"Or let me burn him."
Arata stepped forward.
"He's after me."
Kaede grabbed his arm.
"You're not ready! He's not human anymore!"
Arata's fists clenched.
The black flames flickered inside his eyes.
"I don't care."
"This ends now."
Seijuro's voice echoed across the city.
"Come, cursed child."
"Let me bury your name with the others I've slain."