Ryota lay sprawled on a cushioned seat inside the Crimson Castle, a plate stacked with rich, delicious food in front of him. Servants moved gracefully around him, offering more. For once, he allowed himself to relax.
"This is the life..." he mumbled, chewing contentedly. "Forget battles, this food's enough to make me stay here forever."
The door creaked open.
Ren and Hayato stepped in.
Ren raised an eyebrow. "You look way too comfortable, Ryota. Did you forget we almost died getting here?"
Ryota, still chewing, waved lazily. "They're treating us like honored guests. I figured... why not enjoy it while it lasts? We need food to survive, right?"
Hayato chuckled. "He's not wrong. Anyway, take a seat, Ren. Tonight's a feast."
As Ren sat down, Hayato turned to Ryota with curiosity. "So, friend of Ren, what's your name?"
"I'm Kobayashi Ryota," he replied, wiping his mouth.
Hayato nodded. "Ryota, what kind of magic do you use?"
Ryota smirked. "Plasma Magic."
Hayato's eyes lit up. "Impressive. Plasma is an advanced magic element... I have something that might interest you."
Ryota blinked. "Wait, hold up. Weren't you trying to kill us earlier? Now you're giving out gifts? Are you seriously this weird?"
Hayato's composure slipped for a moment, but he chuckled. "Let's just say... it was originally meant for Ren. But since he has Celestial Magic, the item won't sync with him."
Ryota's curiosity grew. "Okay, what kind of gift are we talking about here?"
"Come," Hayato said with a slight grin.
They followed him through the castle, eventually arriving at a heavily guarded magic weapon chamber. Inside, placed on a stone pedestal, was a single weapon grip—its surface embedded with glowing runes.
"This is a magic weapon," Hayato explained. "Forged long ago by a great blacksmith of Crimson. Magic weapons don't increase your inner power, but they channel your magic more precisely and amplify control—especially in battle."
Ryota stared at the grip. "But... it's just a handle."
Hayato smirked. "That handle is crafted from rare magic stones. It can create a blade of your own element. But to use it, you must have a basic or advanced magic type. Since you use Plasma Magic, it's perfect for you."
"Why not give it to your own people then?" Ren asked.
"We would, if we could. But the truth is... no one in Crimson Village possesses basic or advanced magic. Our bloodline only produces semi-celestial and rare celestial magic."
Hayato glanced down at his own hand. "My magic increases my speed and grants a technique called Cutting Slash. It allows me to cut anything, even from a distance—but the farther the range, the weaker it becomes."
"Sounds like samurai stuff," Ren muttered.
"It is," Hayato said. "It's passed down in noble bloodlines. Rare, but not strong enough to be celestial magic."
Hayato handed the grip to Ryota. "Focus your magic into it. Imagine a blade forming."
Ryota held the grip, closed his eyes, and concentrated.
Sparks crackled. In a flash, a glowing blade surged out of the grip—pure white plasma humming with energy.
Ren stepped back, eyes wide. "Whoa...!"
Ryota grinned. "Oh yeah... now this is cool! I'm even stronger now! No one's gonna stop me!"
He raised the blade triumphantly. "I name you—Plasma Fang!"
Hayato rubbed his forehead. "Is he serious...? Does his brain even work right?Why is he so hyped about this?
Hayato led them out to view the village from the balcony.
But something shifted in the wind. In the far distance, a mass of dark shapes moved like a shadow. An army—marching.
Far ahead of the force, a man walked with a twisted smile.
"I can't wait to see the despair in their eyes," he whispered. "That pain... it's so delicious. Our king really knows how to please."
A woman stepped beside him, her voice cold. " Tarak,We should wait until night. My dark magic works best in the shadows."
The man scoffed. "Umren, you're not in charge here."
Tarak glared.
Tarak raised a hand and shouted to his soldiers, "Do what you want with the villagers—but leave the Crimson leader alive,
I will face him."
The storm is coming.
And Crimson would soon burn.