The sun crested low over the Valdorne proving grounds, painting the marble arena in amber light. The banners of the Hunter's Guild snapped in the wind, and rows of hardened warriors lined the perimeter in hushed anticipation. Rumors had spread quickly. Today wasn't just a test. It was the test.
Shin stood in the center of the ring, his black robe trimmed in silver, the edges catching golden light like a mantle of quiet dignity. At his belt rested his crystal orb, gently pulsing with latent energy, and his silver amulet—gifted by the Queen of Orahm—reflected the sky with starlight brilliance. His red eyes calmly swept over the crowd before locking onto the one figure stepping forward from the balcony above—Guild Master Davis.
The veteran's voice boomed like a war drum, cutting through the wind.
"You've grown, Shin. More than I ever thought possible. But words only carry weight when backed by action."
He raised a hand.
"Bring them in."
From opposite gates, three elite Hunters entered the arena—Serah, the flame caster, wrapped in red-cloaked flame sigils; Varun, the spear-wielder whose every step radiated grace and agility; and Jorick, the sentinel clad in obsidian plate, dragging a blade as tall as a man. They moved in perfect synchronicity, spreading into a calculated triangle that enclosed Shin at the center.
Davis pointed once more.
"Defeat them. All at once. No restraints."
Shin gave a nod, lips set in quiet focus.
The crowd went silent in anticipation. Only their heartbeats are heard, and as Davis taps his sword on the ground, the metal rings, shouting, "Begin!"
Jorick moved first. The ground trembled under his boots as his greatsword split the air with a roar. Shin vanished in a blink, the wind curling in his absence.
"Flash-step," Serah muttered, her eyes narrowing.
"No," Davis corrected from above, voice tight with restrained pride. "Look again."
A shimmer split the space behind Varun—Shin appeared with a palm outstretched, mirrorlight rippling around him. Mirrored flash-step. A technique drawn from his fusion of kitsune blood and Tsukuyomi's mirror. It was not speed alone—it was movement displaced through fractured reflection.
Before Varun could react, Shin struck his solar plexus with precision. Air rushed from the man's lungs as he crumpled, stunned but alive.
But Serah and Jorick didn't wait. Serah cast a ring of fire between herself and Shin, boxing him in. Jorick, with surprising agility, leapt through the blaze—his armor glowing with heat—swinging low to take advantage of the distraction.
Shin ducked, sliding beneath the arc. Sparks flew. But Serah followed up with twin fireballs that arced inward like closing jaws. Shin summoned a mirrored panel with a flick, catching the left blast and redirecting it back at Jorick.
The explosion forced the big man back, but he endured it, pressing forward through smoke.
Varun rejoined the fray, spinning his spear in a whirlwind that distorted the air. His spearhead glowed with wind enchantment. He leapt, twisting into a midair pincer attack with Jorick.
Shin's body blurred again, but this time he split—his mirror-echo dancing between both men. The real Shin shot forward, past Serah, and took to the air.
From above, he descended like a falling star.
Serah raised her hand to cast, but a small kunai—mirrored and thrown from an angle she didn't anticipate—nicked her shoulder. Her concentration faltered. Flame fizzled.
Shin landed in the triangle's center, his orb flashing. The illusion shattered—ten mirror clones exploded outward. Each Hunter was now surrounded.
They defended valiantly. Varun struck down one after another, his spear a whirlwind of counters. Serah's fire lit the ground in rings of living flame. Jorick slammed his blade into the earth, creating a shockwave to destroy the illusions.
But the real Shin moved within their blind spots, tracing the chaos like a thread.
He subdued Varun first, sliding under his final spear jab and landing a hit to the nerve under the arm.
Serah fought back, flame coating her fists. She dodged the first swipe of Yoshimatsu but couldn't avoid the mirrored echo, which struck from behind. She stumbled forward into Shin's palm.
He whispered, "Sleep," and touched her neck.
Lastly, Jorick roared, swinging wildly. Shin and his echo moved like dancers. They cut shallow slices—one, two, three—wearing the giant down. He dropped to one knee. The final blow was a disarming slice that sent his sword clanging across the arena.
Jorick fell, defeated, panting hard.
All three Hunters groaned on the stone floor, dazed but intact.
Davis descended slowly from the viewing platform, each step deliberate. The older man's boots echoed against the carved stone. He came to stand before Shin, arms crossed, face unreadable.
"You held back," Davis said after a long pause.
"I didn't want to hurt them," Shin replied, voice low and calm.
Davis crossed his arms, gaze fixed on Shin not with judgment, but with pride. He cracked a smile, a huge fatherly grin across his face.
"You held back… because you could. That's the mark of real strength. You're not just fightin' anymore. You're leadin'. That's why you've already won."
From beneath his cloak, Davis removed a silver-etched gauntlet, worn and scratched by time and combat. He held it out, worn but proud, like the man himself.
"This was given tae me the day I became Guild Marshal. It's been through more wars than I've hairs left on my head. Time it serves someone stronger."
Shin stared at it for a breath, then reached out and accepted it with reverence.
The crowd erupted. Warriors stamped their boots. Apprentices gasped. Elders nodded. A chorus of pride and history surrounded them.
That evening, the Guild Hall stood resplendent in torchlight. Flames danced along the polished banners. The sigil of the Rising Fox—Shin's own symbol—rose beside the proud crest of Valdorne.
Inside the ceremonial chamber, Davis stood tall on the dais, his hand firm on Shin's shoulder and his voice like a war drum echoing through the hall.
"By blade, by creed, an' by the will o' the Guild," he intoned, each word steeped in honor,"I name ye Honorary Marshal. Not for strength alone, but for the hearts ye've stirred, the allies ye've won, an' the path ye've never strayed from. You made us believe in hope again."
Shin bowed deeply.
From the crowd, his companions watched in silence. Laverna stood arms crossed, eyes proud. Zera stood tall in polished armor, chin high. Tessara, serene behind her moonflower mask, bowed her head in reverence. Maika grinned, crimson ribbon glinting as her foxfire eyes shone. Alexandra stood still, hand over her heart, her expression unreadable save for the wet glimmer in her eyes.
Davis leaned close and whispered into Shin's ear as the hall applauded. He smiled, not just with his lips but with the lines etched deep in his face.
"You've gone beyond me, lad. And I thank the gods every day that ye did."
The hall roared again with renewed applause. The Guild—veterans and recruits alike—cheered Shin on as the new Honorary Marshal. Voices rang out, names were called, and banners waved. A moment of unity, of triumph.
Serah, Varun, and Jorick—still slightly bruised but upright now—stepped through the crowd. They came to Shin and, one by one, saluted him with the warrior's clasp. Jorick lingered a bit longer.
"You've come far," the big man said with a nod. "George would've been proud if he were still alive."
Shin's expression softened, nodded at the statement. For a heartbeat, he was quiet. Then, in the flickering torchlight, he saw something—someone—standing near the dais.
George Applebee, dressed in the same Hunter's cloak he died in, nodded once in approval before vanishing into the shadows.
Shin blinked, lips parting slightly. Then, he nodded, smiling as he knew the spirits watched over them.
He turned to the crowd, raising his voice just enough to carry.
"I wouldn't be standing here if not for all of you. This path... I didn't walk it alone. I'll carry your faith with me—always."