The iron doors groaned open.
Shinsei was dragged out from the dim prison cell where he had spent the night without food, without water. His lips were cracked, his hair hung loose over weary eyes, but his back remained straight.
The guards pushed him forward, their armor clinking against the stone corridor as they marched him towards the Elder Hall.
The air grew colder as they approached. Incense smoke drifted from within, carrying the bitter scent of old rites. When the doors opened, he saw it — the hall transformed into a stage of blood and ceremony.
Dancers in flowing crimson robes twirled across the polished floor, their anklets jingling in perfect rhythm with the low, ominous beat of the drums. In the center of the chamber, an enormous sigil had been drawn — jagged, complex, glowing faintly in the candlelight. The red shimmer that filled its grooves was not paint… but blood.
Standing at the edges of the sigil were the Great Enforcers, summoned from distant lands. Their armor bore foreign crests, their eyes glinted with detached resolve.
Without a word, one of them raised his hand. Zenith's limp body was lifted from the floor by invisible force, floating through the air like a broken doll. They placed him at the center of the sigil, his hands spread, his eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. He did not resist. He could not.
Bam… bam… bam…
The drums thundered, slow and heavy, like the heartbeat of something ancient.
The dancers began their spirals around the sigil, their sleeves trailing like waves of blood. The Enforcers formed a ring, their voices joining in a low chant.
Zenith felt it immediately.
The Flow within him — the essence of everything he was — began to stir, then pull away, like a tide leaving the shore. It slipped from his limbs, from his chest, gathering above him into an orb of pale light.
The air grew thin. His breath came shallow. His vision swam.
It was said that few survived the Extraction of Flow Essence, and those who did were left empty shells — eyes open, lungs still breathing, but their souls gone.
Zenith did not struggle. Deep down, he had already accepted his fate.
BOOM!
The doors exploded inward in a shockwave of blue light. The ritual stopped instantly. The dancers froze mid-step, the chants died, and the drums fell silent.
Through the dust and splinters, Suno strode into the hall. His long coat swayed with each step, and behind him came Lithos and Team Hinazuki.
Mio's eyes widened. "Suno…?"
He bowed his head.
"Mio-sensei… I know this council has reached its decision. But I will not stand by and watch a talent like his be destroyed."
The other three elders rose to their feet, their presence filling the air like a storm.
Raigen's voice cracked like lightning. "What insolence!"
Suno's gaze sharpened. "Insolence… is thinking you have the right to steal this boy's power, to decide that you are worthy of it."
His voice grew heavy, almost trembling.
"I already lost a friend to this cursed system… I will not lose a student as well."
Tenma's tone was ice. "You do not even oversee the Samurai students. This is not your concern."
Shunji had been silent until now. He stood, his hand resting lightly on his blade's hilt.
The next moment, steel flashed.
It was not a duel, not even a strike — it was an execution.
Every dancer. Every enforcer. Every guard in the chamber collapsed where they stood, their heads rolling across the polished floor, their bodies crumpling in silence.
Only those within Suno's hastily cast barrier — Lithos, Zenith, and the disciples — remained untouched.
Suno's voice broke the dead air. "These people you just killed… HOW were they involved in this?!"
Shunji sheathed his sword with a sharp click.
"They did not perform the ritual fast enough… even when the fate of the world depended on it."
He turned to Suno.
"And as for you… you are hereby sentenced to death and stripped of your duties as a Ronin. Due to your rank, you shall die honorably… in two days."
Suno's eyes found Mio. But she would not meet his gaze.
He chuckled, bitter and low.
"A man labeled a disgrace to the Citadel stood in the face of danger… and fought for the sake of the next generation. And to him…" He raised his voice, his words echoing through the hall. "…I give more respect than any of you."
Zenith's breath caught in his chest.
"That's why… even if it costs me my life, I will protect his ideals."
He looked back at Zenith.
"The way your Sensei lived… taught me how to face life. I only spoke with him once — long enough for him to tell me the location of the one who knows about your mythic ability."
Suno stepped forward, his hand forming a sign.
"I'm sending all five of you to where he resides. Zenith… you are on a journey to master Oborowa Mandala. It will be a bumpy ride. But when you return… remember this system — the one that stood against your master's ideals, the one that has crushed young talents for generations."
His voice thundered:
"And when you do… WREAK HAVOC!"
The floor beneath Zenith's feet lit up in a blinding blue. His vision blurred as the magic surged upward, swallowing him and the others in a spiraling torrent of light.
In the last instant, he saw Suno smiling faintly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if challenging the heavens themselves.
"What now…?" Suno whispered to the empty air.
The world shifted.
For minutes — or perhaps hours — they fell through an endless current of light and shadow. When they finally landed, they stood in a realm unlike anything Zenith had ever imagined.
Vast spirals of Flow twisted through the sky like living rivers. Mountains floated above seas of mist. Creatures of impossible form drifted past, some translucent like ghosts, others radiating light so bright it hurt to look at them.
The air was thick with energy, each breath tasting like the first breath of life itself.
Lithos stepped forward, his hands trembling.
"I know this feeling…"
His eyes widened.
"This is… Tamashii no Kigen — the world of spirits"