At Ryuki dojo, silence ruled the empty wooden hall. Old floorboards creaked faintly under the weight of time, incense smoke lingered from the morning rituals, curling into the rafters like fading whispers. Outside, cicadas screamed into the heat, their sharp cries breaking through the still air.
Hoshin Maru and Ryden sat cross-legged on the floor, a small kettle steaming between them, the faint smell of roasted tea rising. They weren't men who talked for comfort—every word weighed like steel dropped on stone.
"Less than two months left," Hoshin Maru said, breaking the silence. His voice was deep, heavy, carrying no excitement, only a flat determination. His face was vacant, unreadable, but his words burned. "After that… we'll move. We'll invade Yuzen in secret and take Zackey's head. Blood in my veins boils like lava, just waiting for that moment—when we erase our final threat. The blood of the Siroka family."
