Greetings Fellow readers, MasterW here
Had a lot of complications to continue writing, but I made sure to continue, even if little by little.
The hardest part is beginning to write, after that everything flows by itself.
Anyhow, here is the new chapter.
And yeah, I'm back!
Also, I'm opening a QQ account to publish my stories there, and I will also be writing another DxD story in the future.
What can I say, it brought me an inspiration after writing those omakes
Without any further to do, enjoy!
-----------------------------------
(Third Person's POV)
Dust rose into the sky in a thin, fading column.
Yoshioka Akira stood at the edge of an empty lot on the outskirts of the city, watching it dissipate into the afternoon air. His expression remained calm, but a quiet sigh of irritation escaped him.
He had been dealing with this more often lately
Reincarnators.
Transmigrators.
Isekai protagonists.
And now, the lowest of the lot
Hentai protagonists
The teenager he had just erased from existence had somehow arrived with a "Sex System." It had been steadily increasing the boy's power every time he slept with someone, while simultaneously attempting to rewrite the underlying "code" of the world itself, making women more receptive, more willing, more easily influenced.
A crude, parasitic alteration that would have spread like a disease if left unchecked.
Akira had noticed the change the moment it began.
He corrected the world's code first, then erased the offender with clinical precision.
Luckily the degenerate has only been sleeping with... secondary people with little to no fate attached to them
Still, it was warring to see someone try to affect the world that easily without any hint of guilt.
The higher entity that had sent the boy here was not currently present in this world. That problem could be dealt with later
Still, the frequency of these arrivals was becoming jarring.
Especially while ḧ̷̨̛̯͕̮̤͍̣̼̳̻̲͓͖́̀̑͜͜ȩ̸̨͈͍̫͚̭̳̪̮̯̭̣̌̍͂̄̀̎ ̷̱̯̺͍̪̰̮͙͉͂̈́̈́̀̄̂̈ was here.
They had forgotten who ḧ̷̨̛̯͕̮̤͍̣̼̳̻̲͓͖́̀̑͜͜ȩ̸̨͈͍̫͚̭̳̪̮̯̭̣̌̍͂̄̀̎ ̷̱̯̺͍̪̰̮͙͉̮͕͂̈́̈́̀̄̂̈ was.
Akira's crimson eyes narrowed slightly as the last of the dust settled.
Ḩ̵̡̼̜̰̣̼̫͕̩̆͒̒̕ͅę̸̛̼̜̙̩̙͔̟̜̓́͊́̀͒̏̔̒̕̕͜ ̷̨̪͉̬̜͍̝͖͂̓̇̏ would have to correct that misunderstanding soon.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
He answered without looking away from the empty lot.
"Sensei." Hana's voice came through, tense and hurried. "Saeko is in trouble."
Akira's expression did not change, but the air around him grew colder.
"Explain"
"She just finished a solo mission in the warehouse district. According to the residual cursed energy readings we picked up, she killed a Grade 2 without issue. But… there are also traces of multiple human deaths. Kukuru Unit signatures. Zen'in." Hana paused, clearly choosing her words carefully. "Mai is already heading there. I think the Zen'in Clan just tried something."
Akira closed his eyes for a brief moment
"…Understood."
"Sensei-"
"I will handle it"
He ended the call.
The irritation from dealing with the system user had not fully faded. Now it mixed with something sharper, a cold, quiet protectiveness reserved only for those under his care.
Akira turned away from the empty lot, white hair shifting slightly in the wind.
The Zen'in Clan had made a mistake.
And he was in no mood to be patient
----------------------------------------------
(Busujima Saeko's POV)
Saeko returned to Chiba Jujutsu High still carrying the faint satisfaction from the mission.
That satisfaction vanished the moment she stepped through the gates.
A small group of men in formal Zen'in Clan attire stood near the entrance, speaking with Nagino Kensuke-sensei.
The teacher's expression was tight with barely restrained anger, while the Zen'in representatives wore smug, self-assured smiles, the kind that came from belonging to one of the Three Great Clans.
Several students watched from a distance with open hostility. Marikawa Shizuka-sensei stood among them, looking uncertain and out of her depth.
Hana hovered close to her side, visibly nervous.
It was clear the argument had already been going on for some time.
The moment the Zen'in representatives noticed Saeko, they dismissed Nagino without so much as a glance and walked straight toward her
"Busujima Saeko," the lead man said, voice dripping with condescension. "You are to come with us to pay for your crime against the Zen'in Clan."
Saeko's eyes narrowed. "Pardon?"
"You killed some of our men," He continued. "Men we magnanimously sent to assist you on your mission. After all, a Grade 4 like you could hardly handle such a threat alone. We decided to help… only for you to murder them."
"Wait, we still haven't finished talking!" Nagino interjected, stepping forward.
"Quiet." The representative did not even look at him. "This matter does not concern a lowly teacher like you. This is a personal affair of the Zen'in Clan. We are authorized to resolve it ourselves."
Saeko's grip on Sandai Kitetsu tightened.
Her heightened senses picked up the quiet, crude whispers of the men standing behind the representative
"Did you see that rack?"
"Yeah… I can't wait to get my hands on it."
"We'll have to wait. Naoya-sama said he gets first serving."
"Damn. What I wouldn't give for a taste. Now I only get sloppy seconds… beggars can't be choosers, I guess."
Everything clicked into place at once.
The solo mission.
The ambush.
The convenient timing.
It had been a setup from the beginning.
Saeko's voice remained calm, but there was an edge beneath it
"How did you know I was the one who killed them? The curse could have done that."
"We don't have to answer to a peasant like you," The man replied, already reaching toward her with clear intent in his eyes. "We are representatives of the noble Zen'in Clan. Be obedient and-"
Sandai Kitetsu left its sheath in a blur.
The blade cut cleanly across the man's palm. He recoiled with a sharp cry, clutching his bleeding hand.
"Don't you dare put your hands on me," Saeko said coldly. After all, there was only one man she would ever allow to touch her.
"You bitch! How dare you?!" The representative's face twisted with rage as cursed energy flared around his uninjured hand. "Don't you know who I am?!"
"I would like to know that as well."
A new voice cut through the tension.
A hand closed firmly around the representative's wrist, stopping the attack completely. Everyone turned.
Yoshioka Akira stood there, white hair slightly stirred by the wind, crimson eyes cold and unreadable. His grip was effortless, yet the Zen'in man's arm did not move an inch.
"You-?!"
"I thought I made it clear to the higher-ups," Akira said, his tone polite yet carrying unmistakable weight, "That any matter concerning this school and its students is to be forwarded to me. I do not know on whose authority you are acting. But I am not in the mood to deal with you."
"You… We are members of the Zen'in Clan," the man spat. "You are just a clanless nobody."
Akira's expression did not change.
"I am beginning to think the inbreeding within your clan has begun to rot your brains. Do you forget how I defeated Gojo Satoru by myself? I do not believe that makes me a 'nobody.'"
"A fluke!" Another representative shouted. "A staged performance you colluded with Gojo Satoru to deceive the clans! We know better!"
Akira sighed, the sound quiet and tired.
"Of course. I am dealing with idiots"
Without the slightest hesitation, he drove his knee into the man's stomach, then released him with a sharp kick. The representative was sent flying across the courtyard, bouncing once, twice, before landing in the large decorative pond in the center of the school grounds with a heavy splash.
Akira turned his cold gaze on the remaining Zen'in members.
"Take him and leave. Return to your clan." His voice dropped a fraction. "Tell them I will be paying them a visit. Personally"
Dark red cursed energy flickered briefly around him.
His eyes seemed to deepen in color. The remaining representatives scrambled to drag their soaked leader out of the pond and fled the school without another word.
Nagino approached Akira with a troubled expression.
"I'm sorry I couldn't handle it myself. Principal Takeda is currently outside with Shindou-san. I was the only one available… and I'm afraid I don't have much sway or connections within proper jujutsu society. A consequence of being stationed so far from the main branches, I suppose."
"It is no problem, Nagino-san," Akira replied calmly. "If you will excuse me, I will be dealing with the Zen'in Clan myself."
He began walking toward the school gates, hands slipping into his pockets.
"What are you going to do, Sensei?" Saeko asked, still holding her sword
Akira paused for a moment. A long katana with a distinctly wooden-looking sheath materialized in his hand.
The moment it appeared a heavy pressure settled over the courtyard. Sandai Kitetsu vibrated faintly at Saeko's side, as if recognizing something familiar.
"I am going to teach them," Akira said quietly, "that no one interferes with my students."
He resumed walking.
"No one."
Saeko watched his back as he left the school grounds.
...…She might need a change of underwear
----------------------------------------------------------------------
(Zen'in Naoya's POV)
The private reception room of the Zen'in main estate was filled with the heavy scent of expensive sake and barely restrained tension.
Zen'in Naoya sat in the seat of honor, one leg crossed over the other, swirling the remaining liquid in his cup with an irritated expression.
The men who had been sent to retrieve Busujima Saeko knelt before him, heads lowered, clothes still damp from their earlier humiliation.
Naoya's golden eyes narrowed.
"You incompetent mongrels."
Without warning, he threw the cup of sake directly into the face of the lead representative. The ceramic shattered against the man's forehead, sake and blood mixing as it ran down his face. The others flinched but did not dare move.
"You had one simple task" Naoya continued, voice dripping with contempt. "Bring the woman back. Unharmed. Untouched. And you return empty-handed, beaten by a Grade 4 whore"
The men pressed their foreheads to the floor.
"We deeply apologize, Naoya-sama! Yoshioka Akira intervened before we could complete the retrieval. He… he attacked us without warning and ordered us to leave."
Naoya's lip curled.
"Yoshioka Akira" He said the name as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "That one-hit wonder? The man with the useless technique?"
The kneeling men did not dare respond.
Within the Zen'in Clan, a clear consensus had already formed regarding Yoshioka Akira's cursed technique.
It was useful against cursed spirits, yes, the ability to erase externalized cursed energy made him efficient at purification.
But in true combat against skilled sorcerers?
It was considered largely irrelevant. Outside of his Domain Expansion, the technique could not meaningfully affect pure physical reinforcement or techniques that did not rely on externalized energy constructs.
Against Projection Sorcery, the technique of both Naoya and his father Naobito, it would do almost nothing.
The Domain was the only real concern, and even that, the elders believed, could be countered with the proper preparations and anti-domain techniques
Most of the clan had already concluded that Gojo Satoru had deliberately thrown the match.
A staged performance between the two of them to elevate a new "Strongest" and destabilize the balance between the Three Great Clans.
It was a theory that had quietly gained traction among several traditionalist factions. Even more after seeing Gojo Satoru and Yoshioka Akira's friendship.
They were obviously in cahoots with each other
Naoya fully agreed with it
"A fluke and a clown," he muttered. "Nothing more."
The sliding door suddenly slammed open.
A young Zen'in messenger stumbled into the room, pale and breathing hard. He dropped to his knees so quickly his forehead nearly cracked against the floor.
"Naoya-sama! We are in trouble! The Clan is being attacked!"
Naoya's irritation flared hotter. "What now?! Who dares attack the Zen'in Clan? Which clan is it?"
Only another of the Great Clans would have the arrogance, or the strength, to strike directly at them.
The messenger swallowed hard.
"…It is only one person."
Naoya blinked. "One person? Who? Gojo Satoru?!"
Only Gojo Satoru could do that, maybe he is doing it by himself on behalf of his friend
The messenger's voice trembled as he answered.
"…Yoshioka Akira."
Silence fell over the room.
Naoya's eyes slowly widened.
For the first time that day, the arrogance on his face cracked
----------------------------------------------------------
(Third Person's POV)
Akira walked through the outer gates of the Zen'in compound with unhurried steps.
The late afternoon light cast long shadows across the traditional architecture, but the atmosphere was already thick with tension.
Word of his arrival had clearly spread. Dozens of figures in the practical dark clothing of the Kukuru Unit were already forming ranks in the main courtyard.
The Kukuru Unit was the lower combat branch of the Zen'in Clan's forces. Comprised almost entirely of male clan members who had been born without an innate cursed technique, they were required to enlist and endure grueling martial arts training day and night.
What they lacked in refined cursed techniques, they compensated for with disciplined physical combat, numbers, and absolute loyalty to the clan hierarchy.
They were the ones sent to handle the dirty work the Hei considered beneath them.
Akira regarded them with mild disinterest.
A quiet nostalgia settled over him as he continued walking forward.
He had done this before.
Not this exact situation, of course, but the act of walking alone into the heart of a powerful clan to defend someone under his protection. He had done it more times than he cared to count across different worlds and different eras.
'My Holy Knight'
The soft whisper of a memory brushed against the edge of his mind.
For a brief moment, he saw a blonde girl with large, earnest green eyes looking up at him with a mixture of worry and absolute trust.
A girl's voice, gentle and unwavering, calling him that title as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Quite the trip down memory lane.
Akira exhaled slowly and let the recollection fade.
The first wave of Kukuru members charged.
They moved with the coordination of people who had trained together for years, short, explosive bursts of reinforced movement, attempts to surround, joint locks, and blunt-force strikes designed to overwhelm through numbers rather than individual brilliance.
Akira did not draw his sword fully.
The wooden-looking saya shifted only a fraction. The exposed edge of the blade caught the light for less than a second as he stepped into the first attacker's range. A precise strike with the still-sheathed weapon against the man's solar plexus folded him instantly. Before the body even hit the ground, Akira's footwork carried him into the next two.
A short horizontal motion of the partially drawn blade, still mostly contained within the scabbard, intercepted a reinforced punch and redirected it into another clan member's face. Both men collapsed.
More came.
Akira moved through them like water flowing around stones.
Every motion was calculated. Every impact was measured.
He struck pressure points and disrupted their balance.
The sound of bones cracking reverberated. When he grabbed an arm or leg, he dislocated their joints. Their bodies dropped, yet none of them died.
One particularly large Kukuru member attempted to grapple him from behind. Akira shifted his weight, drove an elbow backward into the man's ribs hard enough to force the air from his lungs, then used the partial draw of the blade to cut the tendons at the back of both knees in a single controlled motion. The man dropped with a strangled cry, unable to stand.
The courtyard filled with the sounds of unconscious bodies hitting the ground and the sharp, controlled ring of steel barely leaving its sheath.
Akira never once fully unsheathed the katana
He did not need to
By the time the first large group had been neutralized, nearly thirty Kukuru members lay scattered across the stones, unconscious, in pain, and completely unable to continue fighting. Akira stood in the center of them, white hair barely disturbed, expression calm and faintly distant
More were already pouring out from the surrounding buildings.
Akira tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.
Then he began walking forward again.
The nostalgia had not fully left him.
Protecting someone precious by dismantling an entire force that stood in the way…
Yes.
He had done this many times before. And he would do it again without hesitation.
The next group did not learn from the previous one's failure
Dozens more Kukuru members poured out from side corridors and training halls, forming a tighter, more desperate formation.
Shouts of coordination filled the air as they attempted to box him in from multiple angles.
Akira's response remained the same.
The long katana with the wooden-looking saya shifted only slightly in his grip. He used the scabbard itself as both shield and weapon, deflecting strikes with precise angles, driving the reinforced wood into joints, throats, and chest. When a more serious attack forced him to expose the edge, it was only for a fraction of a second: a shallow cut across their body, a controlled slice that severed cursed energy reinforcement without taking a life
One man tried to tackle him from the left. Akira turned his body just enough to let the attacker's momentum carry him past, then brought the still-sheathed sword down in a short, brutal arc against the back of the man's neck. The Kukuru member crumpled.
Another came from the front with a reinforced spear thrust. Akira stepped inside the range, caught the shaft under his arm, and twisted. The weapon shattered. A single sharp strike with the scabbard to the man's temple dropped him.
The pattern repeated.
Again.
And again.
By the time Akira reached the inner courtyard, more than eighty members of the Kukuru Unit lay scattered across the stone paths and wooden walkways. Some groaned. Some were silent.
All of them were out of the fight
A heavier presence finally made itself known.
Members of the Hei Squad began to appear
Unlike the Kukuru, the Hei were the true combat elites of the Zen'in Clan, those born with innate techniques, properly trained, and given higher status. Their cursed energy signatures were sharper. Several of them carried specialized cursed tools. Their formation was tighter, their movements more calculated.
One of them, a man with a scar across his cheek and a heavy cursed axe, stepped forward
"Yoshioka Akira. You have gone far enough. Leave now, and the clan may still show leniency"
Akira regarded him with mild disinterest. But showed no intent of stopping
The Hei member's eyes narrowed. "Then you leave us no choice."
They attacked.
This time, decided to answer a little bit more serious
The first Hei member came in with a technique that hardened his skin like iron. Akira met the charge, let the man's reinforced fist pass millimeters from his face, and drove the butt of the scabbard into a precise point beneath the armpit. The technique collapsed. A follow-up strike to the knee sent the man down.
A second Hei tried to bind him with a thread-like cursed technique. Akira simply walked through it. The threads that touched his body lost their cohesion almost immediately, unraveling into useless strands of energy. Before the sorcerer could recover, Akira closed the distance and rendered him unconscious with a single controlled blow to the neck
More came.
And Akira dismantled them one after another.
The inner courtyard gradually filled with the defeated forms of the Hei Squad.
Akira finally stopped in front of the main building of the estate.
His white hair was still neat. His breathing remained even. The only sign that he had been fighting at all was the faint dust clinging to the lower part of his clothing.
Akira finally stopped in front of the main building of the estate.
The heavy wooden doors of the main hall slid open.
Four figures stepped out.
Zen'in Jinichi, broad-shouldered and imposing.
Zen'in Ogi, black eyes sharp with barely concealed hostility.
Zen'in Chojuro, the older and short man, already wearing a faint grin.
And Zen'in Ranta, the youngest of the group, expression tight with visible unease.
These were among the principal members of the Hei.
Chojuro was the first to speak, his voice carrying a rough amusement.
"My, my… these youngsters keep getting more and more daring every day."
Ranta stepped forward slightly, hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Yoshioka Akira-dono, please stop this madness. There is still room for discussion-"
"Don't be a fool, Ranta" Ogi cut in coldly. "Let's just deal with him properly"
Akira regarded the four of them with the same calm expression he had worn since entering the compound
The four them moved as a group to reach the teacher. Ogi was the one that arrived first while Chojuro stayed back
His katana flashed as Blazing Courage activated. A torrent of intense flames erupted from the broken edge of the blade, roaring toward Akira in a concentrated wave of heat and cursed energy.
Akira did not dodge. The flames never reached him.
The externalized cursed energy that formed the fire simply ceased to exist the moment it entered a certain range around his body. The technique unraveled mid-air, collapsing into nothing more than a brief wash of harmless heat.
Before Ogi could react, Akira stepped in and drove a sharp upward kick into the man's chin.
The impact lifted Ogi clean off his feet and sent him flying upward, crashing through the wooden overhang of the main building's roof with a loud, splintering crash.
Jinichi attacked immediately after
Giant fists of condensed cursed energy manifested around him, seven in total, and launched forward like missiles, each one large enough to crush a building. At the same time, Jinichi himself charged, his own fists reinforced to match the constructs.
Akira reinforced his right fist in response.
He met the barrage head-on.
The first missile-fist shattered against his own. The second and third followed, exploding into fragments of dissipating energy. Akira pushed forward through the remaining constructs, each collision sending shockwaves across the courtyard, until he closed the distance completely.
His fist met Jinichi's.
"Black Flash"
The impact detonated into sparks of black
The black, sparkling distortion of space flashed for an instant as the strike connected cleanly with Jinichi's midsection.
The larger man was hurled backward with tremendous force, crashing through two support pillars before slamming into the far wall of the courtyard and sliding down, unconscious.
Ranta's eyes widened in alarm
He activated his technique without hesitation.
Paralyzing Gaze locked onto Akira. A large pair of spectral eyes manifested in the air, and an immobilizing aura tried to wrap around its target, placing strain on Ranta's real eyes as the technique took hold
Akira simply flexed.
The aura shattered.
The spectral eyes cracked and vanished. Ranta staggered, blood trailing from both of his eyes as the backlash hit him. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground with a pained gasp.
Akira walked past him without a word.
As he did, he briefly placed a hand on Ranta's shoulder. A controlled pulse of Reverse Cursed Technique flowed into the younger man, sealing the damage to his eyes and stabilizing him. Ranta's labored breathing eased, though he remained too drained to stand and his consciousness was still fading
Chojuro's grin had faded.
"So, the rumors were understated," he muttered.
He pressed both hands to the ground.
Earth Manipulation activated
Multiple giant stone arms erupted from the courtyard, slamming toward Akira from every direction.
Akira jumped from limb to limb evading each and every attempt
When those failed to pin him, Chojuro poured more cursed energy into the technique. The ground trembled violently as a massive dragon-like mouth of stone and earth formed, jaws wide enough to swallow a building, and lunged forward to crush everything in its path.
Akira had jumped higher, ending a half a mile up in the sky. Then, he finally drew his sword fully.
The long katana left its wooden-looking sheath with a clear, resonant note.
*SHLINK*
He swung once.
A single, impossibly clean slash cut through the giant construct from jaw to base. The stone dragon split apart and collapsed into rubble. The force of the swing continued downward, carving a deep, straight trench through the courtyard and beyond. Within seconds, groundwater began seeping into the fresh wound in the earth, slowly filling the trench with murky water.
As he fell, he landed a straight kick into the face of Chojuro. Making the older man lose his consciousness instantly
Silence returned to the compound.
Akira stood in the center of the destruction, sword still drawn, white hair undisturbed by the dust settling around him.
Footsteps finally echoed from the main hall.
Zen'in Naoya stepped out alone. Naobito was nowhere in sight.
Of course he wasn't.
Naoya would never have dared to act so boldly with his father present. He had waited until Naobito left for a meeting with members of another clan before setting his plan to take Busujima Saeko for himself into motion.
It had clearly misfired.
Naoya's brown eyes burned with anger and arrogance as he looked over the ruined courtyard and the unconscious bodies of the Hei.
"Don't you know who you're messing with?" he demanded.
Akira's crimson gaze met his without emotion.
"Do you?"
Naoya's face twisted.
Projection Sorcery activated.
In the blink of an eye, Naoya vanished from his position and reappeared in front of Akira at extreme speed, fist already swinging
Akira stopped him with a single punch to the face.
The impact halted Naoya's momentum completely and sent him skidding backward across the stone. He recovered almost immediately, wiping blood from his lip, and began moving again, this time in wide, accelerating circles around Akira, building speed with every frame of his technique.
Akira watched him calmly.
A distant memory surfaced.
A red-dressed sidekick named after a bird had once taught him something useful about dealing with pure speedsters.
How do you stop them?
You break their legs.
Naoya closed in for another high-speed strike.
Akira joined his hands and opened his Domain.
"Domain Expansion: Void Palace"
And like last time, there was no barrier.
It might seem like an overkill for such a weak enemy, but he needed to make his point clear
The open Domain Expansion unfolded silently across the courtyard. The moment it did, Naoya's Projection Sorcery was forcibly interrupted. The technique that allowed him to move in extreme speeds ceased to function. His body, still carrying the momentum of his last acceleration, continued forward uncontrollably.
Akira was already there.
He swung the reinforced wooden sheath of his katana in a short arc.
The impact connected cleanly with Naoya's right leg.
Bone snapped with a sharp, sickening crack.
Naoya's body skidded forward across the ground, the broken leg dragging uselessly beneath him. He tried to push himself up, eyes wide with the first real traces of fear, and began crawling with his arms and remaining leg.
Akira walked toward him at a measured pace.
Each step was unhurried. He knew Naoya couldn't escape him, and so did Naoya
Naoya's breathing grew ragged as he scrambled backward, still trying to put distance between them.
His brown eyes were locked on the white-haired man approaching him, no longer filled with arrogance, only growing dread.
Akira reached him without difficulty.
He raised one foot and placed it over Naoya's remaining unbroken leg.
Then he stomped down.
The bone broke cleanly under the force.
"AAAAAAH" Naoya's scream of pain echoed across the ruined courtyard.
Akira looked down at him without expression, the long katana still resting loosely in his hand.
He held the gaze for only a moment longer before calmly sliding the blade back into its wooden-looking sheath. The soft click of the sword settling into place carried clearly through the silence that followed Naoya's scream
Without another word, Akira turned and began walking toward the main gates of the compound
His steps were unhurried. As if the destruction around him, the unconscious bodies of the Kukuru Unit and Hei Squad, the collapsed constructs, the deep trench slowly filling with water, was nothing more than an inconvenience that had already been dealt with.
And it wasn't, as he didn't spare a glance to any of those. Not even the screams for help and pained breaths of many around him
At the outer gates, a group of figures had just arrived
Zen'in Naobito stood at the front, flanked by several high-ranking clan members who had accompanied him to the earlier meeting. The old man's usual arrogance was nowhere to be found.
His eyes swept across the devastated courtyard, taking in the scale of the damage and the number of defeated Zen'in scattered across the ground.
When his gaze finally settled on the white-haired figure walking toward them, a clear flicker of fear crossed his face.
Akira did not stop.
He walked past Naobito and the others without sparing them a single glance, white hair shifting slightly in the breeze. Only when he was just within earshot did he pause for a brief moment.
"I am sure I made my point clear about my students and my school," Akira said, his voice calm and polite, yet carrying an unmistakable finality. "I do hope I do not have to repeat myself."
With that, he continued walking, leaving the ruined Zen'in compound behind.
Naobito remained standing at the gates, staring after the retreating figure. Around him, the other clan members were silent.
Behind them, Naoya's pained scream, still echoed faintly across the courtyard.