The battlefield cracked with the echoes of collapsed chambers, the scent of scorched stone thick in the air.
Zenith staggered to his feet, blood dripping from fresh cuts along his arms and cheek. His chest rose and fell in rapid gasps.
(Lithos… Ishiguro… they already defeated their opponents…)
His gaze locked on the man before him.
Tall. Calm. Cloaked in crimson robes, and wielding a blade that defied nature itself—a thread-like weapon that pulsed with life.
Kenji Shinoda.
Zenith clenched his fists.
"Every clash with him feels like I'm just barely surviving… My speed's only helping me delay the inevitable."
Kenji's blade shimmered, flowing like molten blood. It wasn't just sharp—it mourned. Each swing whispered grief, each flick tore at the soul.
Zenith narrowed his eyes.
"What is this blade…? Every time it touches me… it feels like it's crying."
Crimson Sutra — The Blade That Weeps.
A weapon granted not forged. It does not cut like steel—it binds, it bleeds, it mourns. A sutra written in blood and agony.
Kenji's voice slithered into the silence.
"You struggle so hard to survive. I find it… beautiful."
Zenith's brow furrowed. "Because I value my life."
Kenji tilted his head. "And I say you shouldn't."
Zenith blinked. "What?"
Kenji's voice dropped into a cold sermon.
"During my years walking as a monk, I witnessed suffering with every step. In every village. Every face. And then I understood… there is no greater curse than existence itself."
"I took up the blade not to destroy—but to release. To offer salvation."
He stepped forward. "I've granted peace to the sick, the dying, the lost. I offered them the freedom they never had in life. What you call death… I call mercy."
"To struggle is foolish. To hope is vain. Accept it. Embrace it… My salvation."
A flash.
"SHUT UP!" Zenith roared, fury shaking his voice.
Tears spilled from his eyes.
"How dare you decide the worth of someone else's life! How dare you trample on the decisions of the living!"
Kenji flinched.
Zenith's voice broke. "Struggle, pain, hope… they're what make life beautiful!"
"My parents died in front of me as a child… I've known sorrow. But I made a promise that day—I'd never let anyone suffer like that again!"
"And as long as I carry a blade… I will fight to protect life!"
Kenji was stunned.
But it didn't last.
"Then suffer!" he roared.
Crimson Sutra: Rope of Sanzu.
The blade extended like liquid wire, slicing through the air, wrapping around Zenith's limbs. It moved like a serpent, fast and precise.
Each lash left not just wounds—but scars of sorrow.
Setsudan Kyo.
Sutras etched into blood. Each strike inscribes a verse of pain into the soul.
Zenith staggered, knees wobbling.
He heard whispers—cries—wails of spirits long gone.
Kenji's eyes gleamed. "Do you still think you can protect them all?"
Chibaku Sō.
The blade pierced Zenith's arm and unleashed a network of glowing crimson veins.
Every inch of it screamed grief, regret, and despair.
Zenith dropped to one knee. Blood poured from his lips.
Kenji's voice was solemn. "You now understand the true nature of suffering. You will die enlightened."
Final Form — Chi no Hōbaku.
The blade detonated within Zenith's body, releasing barbed spikes and monk chants carved from the anguish of ten thousand souls.
Zenith collapsed.
His eyes dulled. His breath slowed.
Kenji stood over him, blade raised.
"I've brought salvation to over ten thousand… and you'll be the last to oppose me."
Silence.
And then…
A soft hand slapped Zenith's cheek.
A vision.
His mother.
"You're better than this," she said with a smile. And vanished.
Zenith gasped.
"No… I don't want to die…"
His voice rose.
"I want to live!"
"I WANT TO LIVE!"
A golden shockwave burst from his chest, flattening the ground and shaking the heavens.
The battlefield froze.
Then—
A pulse.
Like the toll of a celestial bell.
Zenith's back arched unnaturally. His limbs flailed. Bones cracked.
His eyes turned a pure, glowing white—no iris. No pupil. Not blind.
Transcendent.
The air bent around him. The world held its breath.
From behind him, it unfurled—
Oborowa Mandala.
A spectral wheel adorned with sacred glyphs. Some radiated mercy. Others bled judgment.
It rotated slowly… as if deciding the weight of a man's soul.
Zenith's arms moved without his will. His mouth opened.
A voice—ancient, divine—spoke through him:
"All that you are… will be weighed."
Time slowed.
Each ring of the Mandala spun faster.
The sky dimmed. The earth branded beneath his feet.
His aura carried both salvation and annihilation.
He was no longer a boy with a katana.
He was divine retribution.
"State of Judgment."
A dome of energy enclosed them. A barrier between realms.
Kenji panicked. "This… this power! It's from the Age of Myth!"
He tried to lift his blade—
It wouldn't move.
"You take joy in killing," Zenith's voice echoed, godlike.
"But you cannot lift the weight of your guilt."
"My blade carries no hatred… only judgment."
"And it is the sentence."
AKUGAMI — The Flame That Judges the Gods.
His katana ignited, divine flames wreathing it. A blade forged not to kill, but to cleanse.
Kenji trembled. His blade still wouldn't budge.
"So… this is fear…" he whispered.
"So this is… false salvation."
Zenith raised his sword high.
Kenji's eyes welled with tears.
Zenith took a step.
Kenji flinched.
Another.
Kenji felt pain… not from wounds.
But from guilt.
Do I want to live…?
Was I wrong…?
The blade came down.
But never struck.
A barrier of light intercepted it.
Zenith blinked.
A figure stepped forward from behind Kenji.
Hooded. Calm.
He whispered, "Release."
Zenith collapsed, unconscious.
The man removed his hood.
Danzai Kyoraku.
Long white hair. Closed eyes. Divine aura.
"A little excessive, kid. Global shockwaves tend to draw attention."
He turned to Kenji. "Peeing yourself already? We're not done with you."
Kazui burst onto the scene, sword drawn.
"He goes nowhere!"
He blinked.
Danzai was already behind him, dragging Zenith's limp body.
"Was that a squeak I heard?" Danzai grinned.
Kazui's hands trembled.
"I couldn't even react…"
A blade pressed to Danzai's neck.
Another figure.
Shinsei — The Samurai of the Forest.
"I see. You walk that path now…"
Danzai chuckled. "Well if it isn't my favorite squirrel whisperer."
Kazui watched in shock. "Two legendary Ronin… in one place…"
Danzai raised a hand.
"If we fight, this kingdom won't survive."
He turned.
"We'll visit the Citadel soon. For a formal introduction."
He smiled.
"The Veilborn."
And vanished.
The sky screamed.
A comet fell.
Shinsei leapt.
Ninth Flow — Perfected Zero Cut.
He split the comet in two, turning it to divine ash.
Then landed beside Zenith.
"Thank you, Kazui, for guiding my disciple."
He lifted Zenith gently.
Kazui blinked.
"Wait… disciple?"