The morning sun peeked over the mountaintops as the group finished packing their gear. After the intense training that day, silence lingered like fog between them. Without needing to say much, Master Ozaki led the way as they descended into a narrow valley path that led toward Kehi Village.
They hadn't gone far when they encountered a long line of villagers evacuating, families clutching their belongings, children held close by worried parents. Everyone's faces were drawn with fear, but there were no signs of injuries.
Ozaki stepped forward and addressed the village heads.
"Any casualties?"
One elder shook his head. "No deaths, thank the gods. But… we couldn't take the pressure anymore. A strange man came through. We knew something worse was coming."
Just as he spoke, a suffocating wave of pressure washed over the group.
It was like a storm of knives wrapped in darkness—sharp, heavy, and drenched in killing intent.
Everyone froze.
Everyone… except Yamato.
He stepped forward slowly, his hand hovering close to his chest as he looked toward the distant village.
His brows lowered. Sweat rolled down the side of his face.
His eyes burned with caution.
"I… sense danger," he whispered.
The group turned to him in confusion.
"What do you mean?" Chella asked, taking a defensive stance.
Lumei, standing beside Yamato, looked to Ozaki. "Master… Yamato has the sharpest intuition among us. If he senses danger, we should trust him."
Ozaki remained quiet but focused his gaze toward the village.
Yamato turned to the villagers and gave a faint smile. "Be happy. We'll defeat whoever this is. But…" he hesitated, then added, "...your village may not survive."
The elders exchanged fearful glances, but one nodded. "We've lived. That's enough."
The group advanced up the sloped path, and Kehi Village came into view—rooftops poking out just beyond a ridge, a stone's throw away.
That's when he appeared.
From the shadows of the village gate, a tall man stepped out.
Nent.
He was towering, with a chiseled body that looked like it had been sculpted through years of backbreaking labor. His eyes were sunken, heavy with black bags like he hadn't slept in weeks—maybe years. His skin had the pale tension of someone who had endured far too much.
And from him… the aura bled.
Dark red pulses surged from his body, making the ground tremble beneath his feet. It was raw, terrifying energy, like the silent scream of a thousand dead warriors.
He gave a sly smirk and looked directly at Ozaki.
"Welcome, Ozaki," his voice cracked like an earthquake. "You've brought children… to make the battle equal."
His words echoed in the valley, but before anyone could react, he moved—fast.
In one blink, he had grabbed Ichiha.
"What—?!" Sora gasped.
Lumei reached for his sword.
But it was too late. Ichiha was gone, pulled into the shadows like a feather in a hurricane.
Everyone stood frozen, unsure whether to chase or regroup.
But Yamato… didn't move.
He narrowed his eyes, tracking the fading traces of the deadly aura in the air.
"I know where they're going," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Ozaki turned to him. "Why aren't you chasing him?"
Yamato straightened. "Because… this is the plan."
After leaving with Ichiha , a new voice echoed —Kaku's, but it was coming from Nent's mouth as if he had become a speaker.
"It is going according to plan."
Something deeper was at play.