The sun rose pale over a sky heavy with steel-gray clouds. Dawn was not golden here—it was a frozen silver, its light swallowed by the howling winds that swept across the land. The banners of Shizuhara snapped sharply in the blizzard, their colors nearly lost to the white expanse.
Zenith adjusted the grip on his katana, each flake of snow that touched the steel seeming to hiss as if it feared his heat. The cold was relentless, biting into bone, but it was not the weather alone that made the air so heavy—it was the presence of the enemy, waiting beyond the veil of white.
All around him, young disciples and seasoned warriors alike stood tense. No one spoke. No one needed to. They all knew that today would decide the fate of a kingdom.
On the far side of the frozen valley, the army of Haganemori gathered like a dark storm against the snow. Rows upon rows of armored soldiers stood with spears buried in the frost, their breath misting in the cold. At the head of them all, a figure stood tall and unmoving—Yorinaga Fuyutsuki, Shogun of Haganemori, his long coat trailing in the wind, his presence cutting through the blizzard like a blade.
His voice carried across the battlefield without effort, each word like the toll of a funeral bell.
"Today marks the end of Shizuhara… What once seemed an untouchable kingdom shall now be buried in the blossom of snow… forgotten by history."
Beside him, three platinum-ranked samurai stood like silent executioners, their armor adorned with the sigils of Haganemori's warlords. And between them—ethereal, untouchable—stood Yuki Ona.
Her pale skin glowed faintly in the dim light, long strands of snow-white hair flowing in the wind as if the blizzard itself bowed to her. She neither looked at Yorinaga nor at the soldiers before her—her gaze was fixed somewhere beyond the horizon, a place only she could see.
When the Shogun gave his subtle gesture, the snow itself seemed to lean toward her. The air shifted—colder, sharper, alive.
A fat, round man in heavy ceremonial armor waddled forward, his voice booming as he announced the moment.
"Make way! The ritual begins!"
The world seemed to still.
A single snowflake, larger than the rest, drifted toward Yuki Ona. It hung in the air for an impossible moment before landing at her feet—and the ground beneath it froze solid, the frost racing outward in veins of blue-white light.
Her bare foot touched the ice.
The Koho Shūen – Frozen Steps End had begun.
A flower-shaped ice barrier blossomed around her, its petals of translucent frost curling upward into the sky, shielding her from arrows, blades, and even the wind. A wave of frost rolled outward in all directions, and the temperature plummeted until the very air seemed to splinter.
Zenith's breath fogged instantly. His voice was tense.
"What's going on…?"
Shinsei's tone was grim, his eyes fixed on her.
"She has begun the march ritual. From here to Shizuhara—ten thousand steps. Barefoot. Each one she takes draws flow from the air, the ground, and even the life around her. By the time she reaches the gates, she will unleash all that power… and the entire kingdom will freeze below absolute zero."
Lithos exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold.
"Then this isn't a war. It's an execution."
The first step cracked the air like breaking glass.
Step 1… Step 2… Step 3…
With every movement, the world seemed to fade into silence. The ice barrier advanced with her, swallowing the battlefield. Soldiers unlucky enough to stand within reach were encased in solid frost, their weapons frozen mid-swing, their faces locked in expressions of shock.
By the 50th step, the frost had claimed entire platoons. By the 70th, the air was so cold it gnawed at exposed skin, and even the veterans of Shizuhara felt their limbs growing sluggish.
Suno's voice broke through the storm.
"We can't let her reach the gates. If she does, it's over."
Zenith's grip tightened on his sword. His mind was already racing—not about victory, but about how to reach her through that impossible barrier.
Above, the clouds thickened until the sky itself looked ready to collapse, and the snow came harder, as if the world was already mourning the kingdom that stood behind them.
Somewhere deep within the blizzard, the first cries of battle rang out.
And the march continued.
Step 81… Step 82… Step 83…