When Blood Answers Blood
The battlefield was already lost.
They just didn't know it yet.
Smoke coiled above shattered stone platforms and collapsed banners as the Coalition Leaders and Clan Elders stood arrayed in uneasy formation. Around them, hundreds of warriors filled the outer rings—elite fighters drawn from rival clans and allied families, all sworn to end the Zaiton bloodline in a single decisive strike.
At the center of it all stood Kaizen Zaiton.
Alone.
Calm.
Too calm.
Arron Zaiton watched from the high pavilion, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable—but his eyes burned with something sharp and proud. He did not move. He did not intervene.
This was Kaizen's moment.
The wind shifted.
Kaizen stepped forward.
The Sacred Spear, Voultron, rested lightly in his grip—its shaft dark, etched with ancient runes that pulsed faintly as if breathing. The air around it distorted, space itself bending subtly around the weapon.
An elder scoffed. "One child against us all?"
Kaizen smiled.
Then—
He moved.
Not forward.
Outward.
"Seventh Level — EXPAND."
The spear screamed.
Voultron's shaft elongated instantly, tearing through space like a collapsing horizon. In less than a heartbeat, it extended dozens of meters—far beyond what any weapon should allow.
The nearest opposition elder didn't even have time to react.
The spear pierced straight through his chest.
There was no explosion. No dramatic struggle.
Just a wet, final sound—thud.
Blood poured down the length of the spear, dripping onto the stone below.
The elder's eyes went blank as his body slid lifelessly from the shaft.
Silence fell.
Then—
Screaming.
Coalition warriors surged forward in panic, formations collapsing as fear spread faster than orders. Some tried to retreat. Others charged blindly.
Kaizen didn't pursue them.
He turned.
Another elder began chanting, hands glowing with defensive sigils—
Voultron retracted.
Then expanded again.
A second body fell.
Then a third.
Each strike was precise. Deliberate. Executed with terrifying efficiency.
The strongest stood at the centre.
The weak were caught in the crossfire.
Shockwaves from clashing auras tore through the battlefield, crushing lesser warriors beneath invisible pressure. Spells misfired. Blades shattered. Coalition fighters screamed as their own leaders' power ripped them apart simply by being too close.
Kaizen walked through it all.
Blood splashed against his arms.
Warm.
Sticky.
He stopped.
Lifted his hand slowly, watching crimson liquid drip from his fingers.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not immediately.
A low chuckle that crawled beneath the skin.
"I love this feeling," Kaizen said, his voice carrying unnaturally far."The warmth of blood dripping down my hands…"
His smile widened ,today the grey, and all who dare attack my family family shall fall.
Eyes opening fully now—wild. Unhinged. all of you shall join the Zaiton empire or fall.
"It makes me want to kill," he continued, laughter breaking loose at last—sharp, broken, menacing. "Kill until there's nothing left but silence."
Fear exploded across the battlefield.
"That— that monster—"
"Is he human?!"
"Gods— he's enjoying it!"
The surviving warriors began to whisper, voices shaking.
"God of Slaughter…"
"The Zaiton God of Slaughter…"
Kaizen heard them.
He didn't deny it.
Another coalition leader roared and charged, blade blazing with desperate power.
Voultron shortened.
Then Kaizen stepped in close.
One thrust.
The leader tried to resist but it was only a matter of seconds before he was defeated with a spear thrust.
Bodies littered the ground now—elders, champions, warriors alike. Those who tried to flee were trampled by their own allies or crushed by residual pressure from the clash of titans.
Only a handful remained standing.
They dropped their weapons.
Begged. he released his behemoth battle spirit which opened its mouth and with a suction force swallowed the life essence in the dead bodies along with there energy cores, then it disappeared into Kaizen's body.
Kaizen looked at them for a long moment.
Then turned away.
Behind him, Arron Zaiton smiled.
Not broadly.
Not openly.
But with unmistakable pride.
The kind that said:
This is my blood.This is my legacy.
The battlefield would be remembered.
And so would the name Kaizen Zaiton.