Dawn had yet to break as the traitors' feast table lay in ruins, blood and wine pooling on the muddy ground, and bodies frozen in their final act of betrayal. Only three figures stood amidst the remnants of the blazing inferno: Shigure, Lyssa Marrow, and an angel in a gray cloak, who now revealed her silver wings—Ariel.
Amidst the crackling flames, the acrid scent of blood and defeat filled the air, like a dark spell hanging over them. Shigure's face, as hard as stone, conveyed a tale of loss and sacrifice; it was a visage that had once known love, now overshadowed by an unwavering resolve for vengeance. Lyssa, on the other hand, exuded a vibrant spirit as fragments of buried pain stirred within her, breathing life into the shadows of her past. The biting wind pierced the bones, carrying whispers from restless souls. In the dim light, Lyssa raised her double-edged dagger, offering Shigure a faint smile.
"You are the Yamato samurai… I have heard that only one of you survived the Well of Forgiveness. So, tonight, who will write the ending—your hand, or my poison?"
There was arrogance in Lyssa's tone, a challenge roaring amidst the flames. Both knew that on one side lay honor, while on the other—inner strength. They were two souls in the same arena, separated by the lines of fate and choice. Shigure remained silent. His gaze was cold, body upright, the Kagehana katana raised high.
"Under the dead moon, all traitors are the same in my eyes. If you wish to dance on blood, this dance belongs to both of us—and no one will be spared."
From deep within, Shigure felt a surge of energy gathering, every fiber of his being ready to receive the impending strike. His eyes glimmered sharply, seemingly piercing through doubt and fear, ensuring he would not lose his way in this darkened night. They turned in circles, a ring of fire separating them from the outside world. Ariel, the intruding angel, watched only from afar, unable to intervene: Joanna's command was clear—"Let humans write their own sins."
He felt a weight in his heart, an unexpressed burden. The sovereignty and strength of humanity in the face of celestial power brought their stories into the tyranny of choice. In a fatalistic view, Ariel understood that no one could escape the fate that had been predetermined.
Lyssa moved with the agility of a shadow—her dagger striking, thrusting, confusing her opponent, occasionally releasing poison into the air that turned each breath into a gamble. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but her smile never faded; it remained defiant and confident. Shigure countered with silent steps, employing the "Kage-Makiri" technique—his movements as smooth as mist, vanishing and reappearing at Lyssa's side with impossible speed.
The first slash grazed Lyssa's arm, but she remained undaunted. Instead, she laughed, as if celebrating the sting of pain that marked her skin.
"Blood only adds flavor to the feast!"
She tossed a dust of glyph into Shigure's eyes—a psionic poison that could mislead vision—but Shigure closed his eyes, reading Lyssa's movements through the sounds and the pressure of the ground. In his mind, he recalled his teacher's words: "The sharpness of the eyes means nothing without the sharpness of the soul." The "Yamato Kensei: Seimei no Kōshin" technique—reading the enemy's intent through breath, not sight. Calmly, he felt the shift in Lyssa's breathing, detecting her evasion and her intent to strike.
In that silent moment, Shigure sensed a weight beyond the physical battle; he was grappling with the rage and regret lurking beneath the surface. He remembered Joanna's words before the fight, "Every battle carries consequences, Shigure. Remember whom you protect."
With renewed determination, he refocused on Lyssa, noticing the hidden depths of emotion behind her cynical smile. "You seem to think this is all a game, Lyssa," he said, his voice calm and lively.
"A game? Oh no, Shigure. This is a dance of death," Lyssa replied, her eyes igniting with a fervor.
The next attack came as quickly as thunder. Lyssa leaped forward, her dagger glimmering in the dim light as she aimed for Shigure's neck. Hoping to replace her sadness with the thrill of battle, she was determined to make Shigure feel her fear. However, Shigure's deep calm only served to frustrate her. As if digging her heels into the ground, she pivoted and executed a horizontal strike—a dangerous maneuver.
Shigure expertly parried the attack, cutting with his katana, and reluctantly acknowledged Lyssa's formidable skill. A thin chain entangled with his sword, forced into the role of a barrier. In a fleeting moment of silence, he attempted to read Lyssa's absurd expression, sensing a wicked desire cloaked in dissatisfaction. His instincts fought against his emotions, creating a conflict between ignoring her plight or attempting to understand the turmoil Lyssa was experiencing, all the while striving to defend himself.
Once again, Lyssa struck with finality, unleashing an unexpected torrent of movement, but Shigure found the strength to remain standing. In the tension of the moment, he recognized that this battle transcended mere physical confrontation; it was a clash of intertwined destinies.
Each movement was filled with symbolism; every thrust and parry constituted a silent dialogue between the two. On one side, there was a sense of emptiness that nearly consumed Lyssa, while on the other, Shigure's heartfelt sincerity challenged the depravity of the world.
The battle grew more brutal. Lyssa launched a relentless assault, utilizing a combination of daggers, thin chains, and bursts of poison. Shigure dodged, slashed, and severed the chain with a single stroke, before driving the tip of his katana into Lyssa's shoulder. He felt the vibrations of the sword striking flesh and bone, inflicting a new pain on his opponent that pushed her to be even bolder. With each attack, Shigure endeavored to recall his teacher's lessons about the art that transcended the physical; about the beauty found in perseverance.
Lyssa roared, her piercing voice filling the battlefield with fury. She locked Shigure's sword with the chain wrapped around her wrist and whispered, "I've also learned to fight barehanded, samurai. And I've never died alone." In her hushed tone lay traces of pride and dissatisfaction as she envisioned the helplessness that might come. Once again, Lyssa reflected on her background, having grown up amidst violence, forced to discern who were friends and who were foes. Yet, she knew that behind all that, there was a deeper lesson about courage and sacrifice.
"I've also learned to fight barehanded, samurai. And I've never died alone."
They held each other back, blood mixed with poison dripping onto the ground. Shigure felt the cold touch of night on his fingers, and it was not merely because the darkness was thickening. A wave of nausea began to creep in, blurring the lines between offense and defense. He wrapped a cloth around his wound, drawing his katana with full force—slicing through the chain, forcing Lyssa to retreat, but the poison had already begun to cloud his breath. In those fleeting moments, doubt slithered into Shigure's mind: Was this enemy truly worth killing? Was there any humanity left in Lyssa that could be saved?
In that moment, their bodies were mere shadows clashing amid the roaring night wind. Both were drenched in blood and determination, engulfed in a battle where neither seemed willing to retreat. Shigure gazed into Lyssa's eyes—despair and hope intertwined in her piercing gaze. "You know," he said with a hoarse voice, "only those who dare to create change can truly achieve it."
Above the ruins, Joanna observed through the magical circle. She wrestled internally with Zadkiel and Remiel—two angels who were now beginning to clash. Beneath the dim light, Joanna's face exhibited a deceptive serenity, while her soul was in turmoil amidst the unseen winds that warmed the swirling dust. Every decision felt as heavy as the night sky, with the stars of hope fading in the background.
Zadkiel:
"Let them perish. Old sins must be wiped out by their own blood."
Remiel:
"But if all humanity is wiped out, who remains to inherit hope?"
Ariel reported,
"Joanna, they have crossed the line. Lyssa wants to seize the remnants of the guardian with poison and fear. Shigure cares nothing for the world, only for honor and revenge."
Within her heart, Joanna trembled, recalling the faces of those lost, allowing the searing guilt to merge with her empty words. She felt the warmth of her tears. Suddenly, the sweet aroma of memories drifted by, stirring a longing for the peaceful times before the storm struck. Joanna fell silent, her mind in turmoil—she knew that any intervention now would lead to the angels being accused of controlling human fate. Yet, if left unchecked, chaos would consume the last hope of the world. The image of Lyssa loomed, growling in her arrogance, and from afar, a spectral voice reminded her to remain steadfast.
"Ariel, keep your distance. Only if one of them targets the last womb should you take action."
Joanna's voice, though soft, resonated as if echoing, filling the void that had previously spread in the hearts of the angels. The assertive strength in her tone reflected a commitment to helplessness and a unified hope. The gap between them and reality grew wider, prompting deeper thoughts about whether to save—or allow—the injustice to unfold.
Not far from the duel arena, in the dark, cold underground hallway, the remnants of Oda and Gaia debated fervently. The shadow of unspoken words lingered in the air, with every anxious comment seemingly waiting for the moment to rise.
Akiko felt the urge to surrender and beg for mercy from the angels. Her inner cries grew deeper, as if she were pleading with the wind to carry her heartfelt voice in the right direction.
Sabina was resolute in her determination to fight to the death, bearing the honor of a protector. Her voice was filled with conviction, echoing in the dark space. She knew that honor was everything—more valuable than her own life. In her mind, the footsteps of previous protectors carved into history reminded her; if she were to fall, she would not do so without leaving a mark.
Luria cried, pleading for Joanna to come down and help them. Her tears flowed freely, each drop a mix of fear and hope, as if calling out to a figure who might not arrive. In her heart, Luria longed for Joanna's calming voice, which always had the power to clear her mind amidst the chaos. Her courage seemed to wither, replaced by doubt.
Miel, the last remaining protector of Iris, offered a sword, silence weaving between them. There was an unspoken burden in his gesture, as if he understood what the sword demanded—an unvoiced sacrifice. And as he opened his mouth to speak, Miel's voice was weak, "If you feel alone in this fear, remember, I am here. No matter how dark this night may be."
"If you are afraid, take this sword. Kill me before another traitor arrives."
Akiko refused, staring at the sword that glimmered faintly in the dim light.
"I want to live. I want a new world... even if I must bow to Earth or whoever wins tonight."
Sabina slapped Akiko, breaking through her spirit that was trapped in fear.
"Living without honor is not truly living. What is the purpose of a womb enduring, if the soul is dead?"
The voice trembled with sorrow, accompanied by the sound of a tongue clicking. Sabina knew that regardless of the outcome, no one should disregard the honor that must be upheld. Though their debate grew more heated, there was an underlying offer of understanding behind every exchange of words. They were protectors, united in a single purpose, even if divided by differing perspectives.
Some began to inscribe names on the stone wall, as if wishing to leave a mark before everything came to an end. Each letter was a promise, a final statement about their existence in this world. It was as if a chant was spoken in their writing, declaring that even as death approached, their identities would never perish. Gradually, the wall became filled with names, a testament to enduring bravery.
Shigure was now out of breath, his blood mixed with poison. In the throbbing beat of his heart, he contemplated the various choices before him. The moments he had taken replayed in his mind, presenting shadows of the decisions that brought him to this point. Looking at Lyssa, who was also on the verge of collapse with half of her face burned, reminded him that everything comes with a price. Yet, amidst all the suffering, there must be light; the spark of spirit shone faintly, but it was enough to sustain his belief in the midst of the storm. His eyes were filled with triumph, despite the stinging pain.
"Tonight, the world will know who deserves to survive—traitors or samurai."
These words radiated from within him, an inspiration born from desperation as hope was pressed into darkness. The statement was not just a challenge, but a rallying cry for his comrades. In times like these, hope often reveals itself through the kindness of one's heart. Shigure tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, as if it was his promise to himself to not retreat—the place where he would explore the boundaries between powerlessness and strength.
With each heartbeat, he took a deep breath, feeling life and loss in one inhalation, then prepared himself to face his enemy. When hope clung by a thread, he would become the light in the darkness for himself and those who aligned with him.
Shigure uttered the final incantation, a technique passed down from Yamato:
"Kirisame no Kage – Shadow of Drizzle Rain."
He sliced through the air with a hundred delicate strikes, creating the illusion of thousands of blades surrounding Lyssa. She struggled to parry, but one strike broke through her defense—hitting her in the neck, causing blood to spurt. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Her beautiful face was now contorted with pain and anger, yet behind her defensive posture lay unwavering courage. In the midst of the chaos, her mind raced back to the past, remembering the moments when she and Shigure stood side by side, carving out beautiful memories that now melded into sorrow.
However, with her last ounce of strength, Lyssa plunged a dagger into Shigure's side. A glint of determination sparkled in her eyes, as if to say she would not surrender without a fight. They both fell to the muddy ground at the same time. And in the silence that enveloped them, the wind seemed to whisper, conveying a message from nature that war had taken more than just lives; it had stolen hope and dreams.
Ariel descended, ensuring that neither of them moved. A layer of dust and wet earth cloaked the tragedy that had just unfolded, concealing the sad story behind the curtain of death. Her eyelids trembled, her heart heavy with anxiety, each passing second felt like a century. It was as if nature were prompting her to choose, to move forward or remain trapped in memories that never fade.
Joanna whispered to herself,
"All of this… is merely part of an old sin that keeps demanding its toll."
Within Joanna's soul, her conflict flared. She recalled Lyssa's smile and Shigure's laughter, now shrouded in a dark fog. As doubt enveloped her, she felt the weight of the responsibility that lay ahead. Her heart was torn between loyalty and justice. And in the silence, she prayed, hoping that, in the end, a light would emerge amidst the darkness.
The flames slowly extinguished. Ariel closed Shigure's eyes and lifted Lyssa's body onto the altar of ruins. The castle of fire that once blazed now left only wisps of gray smoke, as if recounting a tragedy etched into their souls. She felt a heavy burden in her heart, a mixture of loss and responsibility.
"They chose their own path. We, the angels, are merely witnesses."
The soft and warm voice that sounded like the whisper of the wind deepened the sadness flowing between them. Ariel scanned the surroundings, seeking hope amidst the smoldering ruins. The last remnants of their shields emerged from hiding, witnessing the bodies and blood at the center of the fiery circle. Their gazes were vacant, as if all meaning had been lost in this shattered world. Akiko, crying, knelt beside Shigure,
"You died for honor, not victory."
Akiko's tears fell, soaking the ground that had lost its life. She remembered all the sacrifices made and the precious moments when their togetherness granted meaning. Sabina pulled Akiko to her feet, gripping her hand tightly.
"This feast is over. Now, it's up to us to write the next chapter."
The sorrow in Sabina's voice lent a bit of strength to Akiko. In the silence, they felt one another, fortifying their shaken hearts. Joanna finally stepped into their midst, her face somber.
"Tonight, blood flows to pave the way for a new dawn. Choose: to endure with dignity, or die with a name that holds no meaning any longer."
Every word from Joanna ignited the dwindling spirit within them. She wove hope amidst sorrow, as if rekindling a new flame in their dim souls. In that moment, each individual felt a call to rise, to defy the darkness threatening to engulf them. They exchanged glances, and within that shared look, a promise was born: to continue the struggle and to safeguard the flame for the dawn that awaited.