The battlefield had fallen silent.
Ash drifted through the air, glowing faintly under the fading moonlight. Kurayami walked through the wreckage, his steps steady, his eyes fixed ahead.
He stopped when he saw Haruto lying among the cracks of scorched earth, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Kurayami approached, his shadow falling over him.
"Are you done?" he asked, his voice calm as ever.
Haruto's eyes fluttered open, a weak grin spreading across his bruised face.
"Yeah… I guess so. But I don't think I ended up in great shape."
His gaze drifted up, taking in the cuts and burns across Kurayami's arms. "You don't look much better yourself."
Kurayami didn't answer right away. His gaze shifted toward the distant castle, its silhouette standing tall against the dim sky.
"Let's go," he said quietly.
Haruto groaned, half laughing, half coughing. "Did you even hear what I said? I can barely move, and you're already ready to fight again?"
Kurayami kept walking a few steps ahead, silent as ever.
"Fine, fine…" Haruto muttered, forcing himself upright with a tired sigh. "Just—give me a minute, alright?"
The wind blew softly through the ruins, carrying the faint scent of smoke as the two battered warriors stood side by side under the pale, breaking dawn.
Meanwhile, the night here felt hollow compared to the burning plains—only the rhythm of steel filled the air as two silhouettes moved like opposing tides.
Ezekiel and Haido met on a low ridge, blades flashing in the moonlight. Each strike rang out sharp and clean; each parry sent sparks scattering into the grass. They attacked, defended, and slipped past one another with practiced ease—an exchange of measured blows rather than blind fury.
"You've certainly gotten stronger," Haido said between strikes, his voice quiet but edged. "You remember that day, don't you? The day you almost died."
Ezekiel said nothing, moving silently, deflecting each strike with practiced precision. He let Haido's words wash over him, his focus fixed on the flow of battle.
Haido pressed forward, stepping past a quick parry. "Well, well… how could you even forget it, huh?" His smirk was sharp, almost cruel.
Ezekiel's jaw tightened. He slipped under a descending slash and answered with a precise riposte. "Yes. I was defeated." His tone carried no apology—only cold resolve. "But don't pretend you're the one who bested me. I lost to that monster, not to you."
Haido's eyes flicked, assessing, amused. "A monster, huh? And you think one day you'll kill him?"
Ezekiel's reply came low and certain. "One day I will."
Haido laughed—short, incredulous. "Kill him? Ha. Like you really can."
Far from the main battlefield, the clash of swords echoed faintly in the distance, carried by the cold wind.
"Damn that bastard Mikel…" Prince Daigo muttered, glaring at the empty fields ahead. "Left me here alone with this weirdo."
Beside him, Ardel tilted his head lazily, a faint grin tugging at his lips as he stretched, utterly unbothered.
Daigo turned toward him with growing annoyance. "Aren't you going to say something?!"
Ardel simply widened his grin, gave a playful whistle, and shrugged—his goofy expression saying everything without a word.
Daigo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Unbelievable…"
Meanwhile, the night wind howled across the capital's outer walls as Midari sprinted through the open plains. The faint silhouette of the king's castle loomed in the distance, its towers glinting under the dim moonlight. His footsteps were silent, his presence sharp and deliberate.
But as he crossed the final ridge, a shout broke the quiet.
"Enemy sighted! Stop him—don't let him reach the castle!"
Several soldiers spotted him as he neared the outer perimeter.
"It's the enemy! Attack him—don't let him reach the castle!" one shouted.
Midari didn't slow down.
The first soldier charged; his sword flashed—
Clang!
Midari's blade met his, and in the next instant, the soldier fell.
Another came from behind. Midari turned, blocked, and pushed him back with a swift strike.
"These aren't ordinary soldiers," he muttered, stepping back slightly. "Special Unit soldiers, huh?"
More rushed in. Midari moved like wind through grass—cutting one down, then the next, then another. One by one, they fell in quick, precise strikes.
He counted silently as he fought—one, two, three… eight.
Each fell the same way: fast, clean, silent.
Just as he started forward again, more voices called out.
"There he is! Kill him!"
Midari glanced up, seeing four more approaching fast. He exhaled, irritation flashing across his face.
"Tch… there's more."
The soldiers attacked together. Midari's movements stayed sharp and unhurried—he sidestepped, parried, and sliced through them one after another. Their blades clattered to the ground before their bodies did.
When the last one fell, Midari stopped briefly, eyes fixed ahead toward the castle gates.
Two new figures stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path. Their armor gleamed faintly under the moonlight, the tags on their chests marked differently from the others.
Midari's eyes narrowed slightly as he read the marks.
"Again? But those tags…" He paused, his voice dropping lower. "Vice-captains, huh."
The two vice-captains stood before the castle gates, swords drawn and leveled at Midari.
"You're not getting through," Elias said coldly, his blade gleaming under the moonlight.
Kai stepped forward beside him, his stance steady. "Not a single step closer."
Elias's eyes narrowed, studying Midari from head to toe. "I don't sense any Ren from him," he muttered with quiet confidence. "We can take him down easily."
Kai smirked faintly. "Yeah… just like Captain Kurayami."
Without waiting, Elias lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air toward Midari.
Midari's expression didn't change. He shifted slightly to the side, letting the blade pass harmlessly by. The movement was so effortless it almost seemed unreal.
As his feet touched the ground again, a flicker of memory flashed before his eyes—voices from the past echoing in his mind.
Haido's voice:
"You three—Kaku, Takomi, and Midari—have been chosen as Special Unit Captains of the Hidden Demon Kingdom by the king."
Kaku crossed his arms, smirking. "We three, huh? But I don't even sense any Ren from that guy over there."
Takomi glanced sideways. "Midari, huh? He must've slipped in by luck… or maybe a failure."
Their laughter faded into the sound of steel clashing—
Kaku and Takomi sparring together in open fields, training side by side, blades moving with fiery energy.
Meanwhile, away from them—
Midari trained alone.
His body strained under the weight of massive rocks he carried across his shoulders, his muscles trembling as he squatted under waterfalls, the roaring water crashing down on him.
No Ren. No partner. Just raw strength and silence.
The memory faded as quickly as it came.
Midari's gaze sharpened, cold and clear. Elias, still recovering from his missed strike, barely noticed the movement.
In a blink, Midari's sword flashed—a clean arc slicing through the air.
Slash!
Elias froze. His eyes widened in shock as a deep cut opened across his abdomen.
Blood splattered the dirt as he staggered back, gasping, his sword slipping from his grasp.
Midari stood motionless, blade lowered, his expression unreadable.
The wind blew faintly between them, carrying only the sound of Elias's labored breath.
Kai's eyes widened, his voice roaring across the battlefield.
"Damn you… you cut him!"
Without hesitation, he surged forward, sword aimed directly at Midari.
Midari's eyes narrowed, calm as ever. In a fluid motion, he met Kai's attack head-on, parrying effortlessly before delivering a swift counter.
Slash!
Kai gasped, a deep cut opening across his chest. Pain flashed in his eyes as he stumbled backward, blood seeping through his fingers.
Neither side paused. Both Kai and Midari lunged again, swords clashing with violent speed—steel ringing sharply in the night air.
But Midari's movements were precise, unstoppable. With a single, calculated sweep, he cut through both opponents simultaneously, the force of his strikes ending the battle instantly.
The battlefield fell silent once more.
Elias lay incapacitated, groaning quietly from his wound, while Kai slumped to his knees, chest heaving. Midari remained standing, sword steady, expression unreadable.
He wiped the sweat and blood from his blade. The vice-captains lay defeated, the battlefield around him silent except for the faint rustle of the wind.
He stepped forward, ready to reach the castle gate, when a cold, sharp voice cut through the air.
"Hey… kid!!!"
The voice was calm. Cold. Heavy with authority.
Midari froze. A shiver crawled down his spine as he felt an immense pressure—an aura that crushed the air itself. Slowly, he turned.
There, standing behind him under the pale torchlight, was a tall man draped in regal attire, his presence alone enough to distort the atmosphere, his piercing gaze locked onto Midari with disdainful ease.
Midari's eyes widened slightly, his voice tightening with tension.
"You… you should be the Minister—Mikel Silvestre."
The scene shifted once again—back to the clashing echoes of steel beneath the dim moonlight.
Ezekiel and Haido were still locked in a fierce battle, blades ringing out like lightning and thunder, neither giving an inch. Every strike was met, every movement calculated, their swords weaving arcs of silver through the night air.
Haido smirked between their rapid exchanges, his tone edged with excitement.
"That sword… it's the legendary Light Sword, isn't it? Well, well—now that gives me even more reason to kill you. I'll take that blade for myself once I'm done here."
He spun his sword once, the edge catching a faint glimmer of moonlight.
"Though…" Haido's grin widened, "as much as I know, the Light Sword only grows powerful when it absorbs light. In other words—" his voice dropped lower, almost taunting, "in this darkness… it's nothing more than an ordinary blade, huh?"
Ezekiel said nothing, his gaze steady and cold.
Haido lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Ezekiel barely shifted aside—but a thin line of blood formed along his chin as Haido's sword grazed him.
Before Haido could press forward, the wound shimmered faintly—and then healed on its own.
"Oh?" Haido's expression sharpened. "So… you've mastered it, huh?"
His smirk deepened. "Shinrai of the Soul—the power of one who has tamed his own essence. Impressive… and interesting."
The scene shifted back to the gates of the King's castle.
Midari stood alone—his body tense, his breath shallow. In front of him, Minister Mikel Silvestre watched with a cold, unreadable expression, the moonlight reflecting faintly off his sheathed blade.
The air around them felt suffocating. Just from Mikel's presence, Midari's hands trembled slightly, sweat tracing down his temples.
(No… I have to stay calm.)
He steadied his breath, forcing his body to stop shaking.
(If I lose focus, I'll die before even raising my sword. I just need to deal him some damage—enough for Master Haido or Gara to finish him later…)
Midari gritted his teeth, adjusting his stance. His grip on his sword tightened.
Then, with a shout, he lunged forward—his blade cutting through the wind toward Mikel.
But Mikel's form blurred. With effortless grace, he sidestepped the attack and spoke in a calm, almost bored tone.
"You've got guts."
Before Midari could react, Mikel's sword flashed once—a clean, invisible motion.
A sharp sound echoed.
Blood sprayed across the stone as Midari froze, eyes wide, a line of crimson spreading across his chest. He staggered, gasping, and Mikel slid his sword back into its sheath in a single smooth motion.
"Sorry," Mikel said quietly, almost as if it were a formality. "I don't have time to play around with small bugs."
He turned, beginning to walk toward the castle gates.
Midari's hand shook as he clutched his sword, blood dripping from his lips.
"W–wait…" he choked out. "I'm… not done yet."
He pushed off the ground, dragging his wounded body forward for one final swing—
—but Mikel had already moved.
The minister's blade cut through the air once more, faster than sight.
Midari collapsed, the echo of the strike lingering longer than the motion itself.
Mikel paused, glancing back briefly. His tone carried a rare flicker of respect.
"I'm impressed… You have my respect for trying."
Then he turned and continued walking, his figure vanishing into the shadows beyond the gate, leaving Midari lying motionless under the pale light.
Inside the grand throne hall, silence pressed down like a weight. The torches flickered weakly against the stone walls, their flames trembling in the heavy air. King Raizen sat rigid upon his throne, tension carved deep into his face. Drake stood beside him, hand resting on his sword hilt, while rows of soldiers waited—ready, alert, every sense sharpened.
Then—
Thud.
A faint footstep echoed from beyond the great doors.
The hall froze.
Another step—louder. Closer.
The soldiers gripped their weapons. Drake's eyes narrowed, a thin grin breaking across his face as he prepared for a fight. Even the king leaned forward, heart pounding against his ribs.
The door creaked open.
A tall shadow slipped through the entrance—silent, calm, and commanding. The tension in the air coiled tighter… until the torchlight fell upon his face.
Minister Mikel Silvestre.
Instantly, the room exhaled. The soldiers lowered their weapons. Relief rippled across their faces. The king slumped slightly back into his throne, a weary smile breaking through the strain.
"Mikel…" The king's voice steadied, warmth returning. "It's good to see you back."
Mikel stepped forward, bowing respectfully before the throne. "Your Majesty."
The king's eyes searched the space behind him. "Where are Ardel and my son?"
"They're on their way," Mikel replied evenly. "Forgive me, Your Majesty—I came ahead because of the situation's urgency."
The king nodded slowly, the relief in his voice evident. "No matter. You arrived swiftly—and that's what counts."
Mikel's gaze sharpened. "Have you discovered their motive yet?"
"Not yet," the king admitted, his tone darkening. "But I intend to."
Drake smirked slightly, confidence flickering in his eyes. "Master Mikel, it's good to have you. Now this will be an easy fight."
Mikel turned his head slightly toward him, lips curving into a faint smile. "Perhaps. Drake—stay with the king. Protect him. I'll handle the rest and uncover their purpose. With your permission, Majesty."
The king straightened, nodding once. "Do it. Bring them alive. I have questions that need answers."
"As you wish," Mikel said quietly.
Then—without another sound—he vanished, disappearing into the shadows beyond the gate.
Outside, under the dark sky, he reappeared upon the castle wall. His eyes narrowed as he gazed into the far distance—where faint movement stirred in the night, drawing closer with every second.