The air was heavy.
Snow blanketed the battlefield in a cruel silence, broken only by the howling wind. An ethereal frost lingered like an omen as Yuki Ona continued her divine march across the frozen wastelands, each step echoing with ancient power. A celestial aura of ethereal ice engulfed her completely, freezing the soul of anyone who dared cross her path.
The war between Shizuhara and Haganemori had begun.
Within the blizzard-choked field, warriors of the Citadel met the enemy forces with blade and spirit. Chaos raged across the plains. Team Lithos found themselves standing before a towering figure, one of the Platinum-ranked samurai fighting for the opposing kingdom.
And he laughed.
"KYUHAHAHAHA!"
A booming, crazed laughter.
The man, towering and clad in wild armor, carried a massive sledgehammer stained with frost and blood. They called him—
Kyohaku the Insane.
He stood firm in the snow, a monstrous smile stretched across his rugged face. Soldiers charged at him in waves—dozens at a time. And with one single swing of that brutal hammer, he crushed skulls like melons.
Ishiguro clenched his fists tightly, eyes narrowing.
"This guy… his strength is not normal."
Lithos scanned the aura around Kyohaku.
"Even his flow seems… awkward."
Zenith stepped forward, blade in hand.
"That aside… he's an enemy. And we have to defeat him."
Meanwhile, deep within the storm—
Another man stood alone.
Still.
Silent.
With eyes closed, he gripped the hilt of his sheathed blade, unmoving.
The name whispered by the soldiers was Zankaibo the Grim Reaper.
His presence wrapped the air like a noose. The warriors of Team Ranka couldn't move—literally. Every step forward was met with a phantom slash of his blade.
Raijin took a single step.
A thin line of red appeared on his cheek.
Ayame's eyes widened.
"He hasn't even drawn his blade!"
Ranka growled.
"How?!"
Ayame's voice trembled with realization.
"He's using Flow Extension. He's already extended his flow around this area. If he performs an attack… the extension supports it instantly."
Raijin gritted his teeth.
"Damn it… we're stuck."
And then…
At the front of the battlefield, Shogun Akihiro marched forward, eyes locked on Yuki Ona's distant form.
He wrapped his entire body in external flow.
"If I engulf my body in flow... I should be able to get close to her. Just enough to talk."
But just before he approached—
CLANG!
A violent clash of blades.
Yorinaga, the Shogun of Haganemori, intercepted him with unrelenting force.
Yorinaga's eyes narrowed.
"What are you trying to do... persuade her into falling for your cheap promises again?"
He smirked, voice laced with mockery.
"First rule of the game... spirits are tools of war. You mixed pleasure with duty. That's where you failed."
Akihiro clenched his fists.
He whispered, almost pleading.
"They're more than tools... they have feelings too. And what we once shared is proof."
Yuki Ona paused.
Her divine march halted for only a moment.
Then she continued.
Unbothered.
Unforgiving.
Yorinaga chuckled madly, pointing his blade at Akihiro.
"Let's dance, shall we?"
Elsewhere on the battlefield…
The sky itself seemed to blur.
Suno stood within a dome of swirling wind and radiant light beams. They weren't just beams—each trail marked a potential movement, an afterimage of his opponent.
Utsurojin the Hollow, another Platinum-rank samurai, stood with fingers curled into claws—steel-tipped and drenched in corrupted flow. His movements transcended even light itself.
Suno's eyes narrowed.
"Your flow is corrupt…"
Utsurojin grinned.
"So you can tell?"
"You're close to Diamond rank," Suno muttered. "You're powerful. But this isn't the power of a samurai… this is something else."
Utsurojin licked his lips.
"I use my power for the blade. The government gets results—they don't care how I get them."
"Wasn't it the pride of a samurai to live with honor?" Suno asked.
"Honor?" Utsurojin scoffed. "That's rich coming from a Ronin."
He lunged.
A flash of steel.
Suno staggered.
Blood spilled from his chest.
"Honor?" Utsurojin laughed, licking the blood off his claws.
"How's that helping you now?"
Suno stood still, breathing heavy. His eyes didn't blink.
And then—
A flashback.
A younger Suno… standing alone in a field of corpses.
Expressionless.
Suno: "What's the point of living as prey anyways… the weak deserve to die."
Another flash.
A memory of a woman shielding a child with her body.
Suno: "The strong can protect themselves. But their strength should belong to the weak…"
He smiled.
"That's what Kazui would have said… that's what a true samurai would have said."
Back to the present.
Suno took a breath.
Utsurojin: "What's this? I've already won! Where's this confidence coming from?"
"Guess I was close," Suno replied. "You're using an external source. Let me guess—Demon's Graceful Steps, right?"
Utsurojin flinched.
"How did you—"
Suno smiled.
"Barriers."
Invisible ones.
A barrier counter activated. Utsurojin was thrown back by his own force.
Utsurojin screamed.
"How are you keeping up with my speed?!"
Suno crossed his legs mid-air as if sitting on an invisible chair.
"I'm not. That's why I use barriers," he said calmly.
"You enhanced them?" Utsurojin shouted.
"Correct," Suno said. "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. I simply amplified that concept with flow."
Utsurojin sneered.
"But that depletes your flow! All I have to do is outlast you!"
He dashed again—slashing, slicing, striking the barriers over and over. The defenses weakened… then shattered.
Utsurojin stood tall, bloodied, panting.
"Gotcha."
His smile faded.
His veins turned purple.
He collapsed.
Suno exhaled.
"My clan technique," he said softly.
Poison Blood Activation.
"You licked my blood… and now it's inside your body. Once I suppressed your flow… the poison finished its job."
Utsurojin: "I… I was so close…!"
Suno stood.
He looked down at the fallen warrior.
"I still had plenty of flow reserves," he said with a bored expression. "But honestly… the battle was getting boring."
A beat.
He smiled faintly.
"After all…"
"My flow reserves…"
"…can engulf the stars."