The courtyard didn't breathe.
Ketsu stood motionless, blood-axe in hand, steam rising from the split remains of Retsu at his feet. The laughter that once echoed off the stone walls had died. In its place—only a stunned silence.
The Blood Clan watched, waiting for someone to move. To speak. To make the first decision.
Then they roared.
A half-dozen warriors charged at once, aura flaring. Blades drawn, crimson threads trailing like smoke. Ketsu didn't back down. He exhaled once.
And met them head-on, blinded by his fear.
A sword flashed for his throat—he ducked under it, swept the attacker's legs, and crushed his ribs with a knee. Another came from behind—Ketsu turned, caught the strike with his forearm, and let it slice into his skin. His blood burst outward from the wound, twisting into a tendril that speared through the man's shoulder.
They tried to overwhelm him. Three on each side. Claws of blood, daggers of blood, blades too fast to follow.
But Ketsu's aura burned without a pause.
Every wound was answered. Every drop of blood became a weapon. The harder they struck, the faster he adapted. He didn't scream. He didn't taunt. He moved like instinct sharpened by survival.
Two attackers lunged at once. Ketsu twisted sideways, letting their momentum pass him—and in the same motion, hardened a layer of blood along his spine. Their strikes bounced off. He backhanded one with a gauntlet of hardened blood, and pierced the other with a rapidly formed spear to the gut.
Another blade came from above.
He lost a leg this time.
He stumbled—but before his attacker could celebrate, the stump erupted, blood swirling violently. In less than three seconds, the leg regenerated. Ketsu launched upward, his foot striking the man's jaw mid-recovery. Bone cracked. He dropped without a sound.
Bodies littered the courtyard. The stone was no longer visible beneath the blood.
Still, they kept coming.
And Ketsu kept fighting.
Each kill was a flash. A blur. His mind burned through memory and pain like dry leaves. His breathing stayed even. His eyes didn't lose focus.
But inside—he was breaking.
He hadn't come to slaughter them.
He wanted to leave. To be free.
Yet every moment, every scream, every drop of blood took him further away from that idea.
He was drowning in the very thing that had made him.
Only one remained now.
Kurogane.
The patriarch hadn't moved from his dais. The elders were either dead or too shocked to speak. Kurogane watched his grandson—no fear in his expression, only disappointment.
Ketsu walked slowly toward him, footsteps echoing in the emptied court.
Kurogane rose to his feet. His aura surged with sudden pressure—dense, sharp, ancestral. Unlike the others, his presence had weight. Not a weapon, but a command.
"You let mercy soften you. We bled it out of you once. Now you bleed only hate."
Ketsu didn't respond. The blood-axe in his hand faded.
"I didn't want this."
"But this is what you are," Kurogane said. "A perfect creation. The final weapon."
He stepped forward.
"You will always belong to the blood."
The clash was fast.
Kurogane's hand shot out—his blood solidified into a jagged sword mid-strike. Ketsu caught it with his palm. It pierced through—but Ketsu's own blood surged and sealed it in place. He yanked it forward, pulling Kurogane with it.
A punch to the gut—followed by an upward strike that sent the old man crashing against the steps.
Kurogane coughed blood, but didn't stop.
His own blood lifted him—twisting into ropes and blades, firing at Ketsu like spears.
Ketsu dove to the side. A blade scraped his shoulder. He retaliated with three blood-knives, one of which embedded into Kurogane's side.
Another scream.
More rage.
More attacks.
Ketsu advanced step by step, deflecting, cutting, bleeding.
Until Kurogane finally collapsed, kneeling.
His chest heaved. He looked up, face smeared with blood.
"You truly are a monster."
Ketsu stood over him, blood dripping from his fists.
He turned and walked away.
He didn't look back as the gates closed behind him. His limbs ached. His aura was nearly drained. But more than that—his soul felt hollow.
The forest was quiet again.
He walked in silence, the moonlight flickering between the branches above.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes.
Then—he felt it.
A presence ahead.
Ryo.
Standing at the edge of the trail, arms folded, leaning against a tree.
Ryo didn't speak at first. Just stared.
Then: "I figured you'd go there."
Ketsu stopped walking.
His footsteps slowed, and he stood still, the moonlight catching on the streaks of dried blood clinging to his arms. His voice, when it came, was low—hoarse and cracking at the edges.
"I didn't want this."
Ryo remained silent.
"I… thought I could go back. Just say the words, just cut ties. I thought that was enough."
His hands clenched. Blood dripped between his fingers.
"But when they laughed… when they cut me—again—it was like I was right back there. The floor beneath me. The blades above. Everything I tried to bury came back."
He looked down at his feet. The dirt was stained.
"I lost control. I thought I had moved past it… but I didn't. I tore them apart, Ryo. And I didn't even feel it until it was done."
His voice trembled.
Ryo stepped forward. Not close. Just enough for his voice to carry.
"It's okay Ketsu."
Ketsu didn't move.
"They made you a weapon. And when you stopped being useful, they tried to use fear to pull you back."
"But I finished it," Ketsu whispered. "I killed them, Ryo. Even the ones who didn't draw blades. Some just stood there. I still—"
He bit down on the words.
"I wanted to be free. But now I don't even know if I deserve to be."
Ryo exhaled, quietly.
Ketsu looked up, eyes empty.
Ryo's voice softened, only slightly.
"But you're still walking. Now you have to drag it with you."
Ketsu turned, his body heavy, and continued down the path.
Behind him, Ryo stood beneath the trees, unmoving.
And the wind carried nothing but silence.
Silence.
Ryo stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"It doesn't matter what you say now."
"The higher-ups won't overlook it, just because you didn't want to."
He exhaled, stepping aside.
"You're free now. I won't report that I saw you"
"But I have to report, what happened"
Ketsu nodded slowly.
He walked past him.
Ryo didn't turn around. He just stared into the trees.
"Did I make the right choice?" Ryo thought.
And the blood trailing behind Ketsu faded into the soil.