—
Steel rang against steel as shadow-versions of the trio lunged in unison—twisted echoes of paths not taken.
Hoshiro moved with sharp precision, his blue aura flaring like wildfire. His corrupted counterpart, crowned and cruel, matched every strike. "You could've ruled," the doppelgänger hissed. "Power was yours to claim."
"I didn't wear the mask to dominate," Hoshiro shot back, parrying a brutal slash. "I wore it to protect."
Kazuki, meanwhile, tangled with a version of himself who had betrayed them—syndicate tattoos covering one side of his face. "I would never sell them out," Kazuki growled.
"But you *thought* about it," the shadow said with a smirk.
Ayame danced between blades, facing a version of herself who was cold, emotionless, a perfect killer. "Feelings make us weak," the double spat.
"They make me *human*," Ayame replied, slicing clean through the illusion.
One by one, they dismantled the fragments of their worst selves—not with just strength, but truth.
—
As the last shadow faded, the Forger of Origins knelt. "You have chosen your path. And paid the price in resolve."
The First Blade pulsed with warmth, now fully bonded to Hoshiro. Symbols lit up along its edge—ancient runes of destiny.A rift opened ahead—an exit back to Tokyo.
Kazuki exhaled. "Let's go home."
Hoshiro nodded. "No… Let's *rewrite* it."
—
They stepped into the light, not as what they were—but as who they had decided to become.