The morning after the forge battle was strangely quiet.
No hammer strikes, no clatter of steel — only the steady hiss of cooling embers and the soft rustle of wind through blackened trees.
Nick tightened the straps on his armor. The smell of soot clung to everything. Behind him, Yuna helped Taka load what little he could salvage from the forge onto a small cart.
"Where will you go?" Nick asked.
Taka forced a smile. "South, maybe. Find somewhere the Mongols haven't burned yet."
Nick nodded. "Stay hidden. They won't stop until they've taken everything."
Yuna clasped her brother's hand. "We'll find you again. Count on it."
He gave a small, nervous laugh. "You'd better. I still owe Jin Sakai a grappling hook."
Nick smirked faintly. "Then I'll try not to die before I can use it."
Taka's laugh faded. "Be careful, Lord Sakai."
The words felt heavy. Lord Sakai.
Nick wasn't sure he'd ever grow used to hearing it.
---
They left at dawn.
Mist rolled through the hills, curling around the charred remains of trees. Birds were silent. The world felt hollow, drained.
The deeper they traveled, the worse it got.
Villages had been reduced to ash — homes blackened, walls crumbling, fields nothing but smoking scars. Charred bodies lay scattered among broken swords.
Nick stopped walking. "They didn't even take anything," he murmured. "Just… burned it all."
Yuna's jaw tightened. "Fear keeps people in line. The Mongols don't just conquer — they break your spirit first."
He knelt beside a fallen woman, her arms still clutching the remains of a child's toy. His hand trembled as he brushed away the soot.
He'd seen destruction in games, movies, even documentaries — but none of that compared to the smell of burnt flesh and the silence afterward.
This isn't pixels, he thought. This is real.
---
A faint cough snapped him from his thoughts.
Under a collapsed beam, a man was still alive — barely. His face was pale, a deep wound across his chest still bleeding.
Nick rushed forward. "He's alive!"
Yuna grabbed his arm. "He won't be for long. The wound's too deep."
Nick shook his head. "No. There has to be something…"
He pressed his hands to the man's wound. The man groaned, whispering something in broken Japanese. Nick couldn't understand the words, but the tone was clear — please.
And then it happened again.
That same golden warmth — the same Chi that flared in battle — began to pulse in his chest. It flowed through his arms, into his palms. The air shimmered faintly around them, the ashes swirling upward as if caught in invisible wind.
Yuna's eyes widened. "What are you—"
Light rippled once. The man gasped, his breathing steadied, the bleeding slowed.
Nick exhaled shakily. "I… I didn't even mean to—"
Yuna stared at him like he'd just called thunder down from the sky. "You used Chi to heal him."
He blinked. "Is that what that was?"
She frowned. "I've seen monks use techniques to calm pain, but not like that."
Nick looked at his hands, the faint golden glow fading into nothing. "Maybe it's not just mine."
"What do you mean?"
He looked toward the horizon. "Maybe it's Jin's. Maybe I'm just borrowing it."
---
They buried the dead that could be found. Yuna didn't say anything, but Nick noticed her glancing at him differently now — not with the usual sarcasm or suspicion, but something closer to quiet respect.
When they finally rested, it was near a ridge overlooking the sea. The air tasted of salt and memory.
"That's Komoda Beach," Yuna said softly, pointing.
Nick followed her gaze — and froze.
Below them stretched a vast field of white sand, stained black in places by soot and old blood. Broken spears jutted out of the ground like thorns. Rusted banners swayed in the ocean wind.
"The battle started there," Yuna continued. "Lord Jin led the samurai charge. They were slaughtered before they even reached the shore."
Nick swallowed hard. The waves crashed gently now, calm, peaceful — but he could almost see it: the chaos, the fire, the dying cries.
He stepped forward until his boots sank into the sand. The smell of salt mixed with ash.
In the center of the beach lay an old helmet, half-buried, scorched beyond repair. He knelt, brushing away the sand — and saw the faint crest of House Sakai etched into the metal.
"This was his…" he whispered.
The helmet was cold to the touch.
For a moment, Nick saw flashes — a man in full armor, a charge against impossible odds, a blade shattering against fate itself.
And then darkness.
He fell to one knee. The sea wind roared in his ears, whispering in a voice both strange and familiar.
He fell… so you could rise.
Nick clenched his fists. "Then I won't waste it."
Yuna watched from behind, her expression unreadable. "You talk to the wind too much," she said softly.
He stood slowly. "Maybe. But this time… I think it's listening."
---
They camped near the shore that night.
The moonlight shimmered off the wrecked armor scattered across the sand. Yuna sharpened her dagger in silence while Nick stared into the fire.
After a long while, she spoke. "Back there… with the villager. You didn't hesitate."
He shrugged. "Didn't think. Just… did it."
She studied him. "That's not something the old Jin would've done. He fought for honor, not people."
Nick smiled faintly. "Maybe it's time the Ghost learned compassion."
Yuna smirked. "Careful, you're starting to sound like someone worth following."
He poked at the fire with a stick. "Guess that's progress."
They sat in comfortable silence until the waves lulled them toward sleep. But even as his eyes closed, Nick could still hear the ocean whispering — not like wind this time, but like voices.
Rise, Ghost… the storm awaits.
---
At dawn, he woke to the sound of distant drums.
He stood, eyes scanning the horizon — and froze.
On the far side of the beach, torches flickered.
Mongol soldiers were combing through the wreckage, searching, scavenging, desecrating the graves of fallen samurai.
Yuna was already on her feet. "They're defiling Komoda."
Nick's jaw tightened. "Then let's remind them whose island this is
."
He drew his katana, the rising sun glinting off its edge.
The ghost's reflection stared back — calm, resolute, and no longer just pretending.
---