Chapter 5 – The First Mercy
The blood-red banners of Ryuzen Academy fluttered against the sky like the wings of fallen angels. Thunder rolled above, though no storm was in sight—just the echo of fate building toward its strike.
Kenji Sora stood barefoot in the middle of the Grand Arena, surrounded by students, masters, and the cold eyes of fate. All stared at him—not with respect, but confusion, hatred, and disbelief.
He shouldn't be here.
Just yesterday, he was the academy's weakest. Now, summoned to fight in the Almighty Fight, the ancient rite reserved for the top disciples. A mistake, surely—but the elders had spoken, and to refuse was death.
Across the stone courtyard stood Takeshi Raion, the thunder-born. Fast, cruel, forged in fire and praise since childhood. Kenji had known his fists far longer than his name. Takeshi was not just his rival—he was the living reminder of everything Kenji lacked.
"You don't belong here," Takeshi muttered, his voice low, cruel. "But don't worry. I'll send you back to the dirt where you crawled from."
Kenji didn't respond. His hand gripped the hilt of Seijintō—the mysterious katana he'd found just nights ago in the Forbidden Grove, pulsing with ancient energy. It wasn't heavy like the wooden blades he once failed to lift—it felt… alive.
The horn blew.
Takeshi lunged forward with inhuman speed, blade flashing like lightning. Kenji sidestepped—barely. The edge of Takeshi's sword grazed his robes, a single thread floating to the ground.
Another strike. Another dodge. This time, Kenji moved with instinct more than thought. Seijintō guided him, its steel an extension of his soul.
The crowd murmured. This wasn't the weakling they knew. This was something else.
Takeshi roared. "Stop dancing and die!"
Kenji didn't flinch. Instead, he parried, pivoted, and brought his katana across Takeshi's shoulder—not deep, but enough to draw blood. The crowd gasped.
Their duel became a blur. Blade clashed with blade. Sweat mixed with blood. Dust rose like stormclouds. Every move Kenji made felt right—guided—not by training, but something older.
Finally, Takeshi faltered. One misstep. One breath too slow.
Kenji's katana stopped just at Takeshi's neck. One inch forward would sever it.
Silence.
All eyes waited. The tradition was clear: the loser dies.
But Kenji… stepped back.
"I won't kill you," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Not like this."
Takeshi collapsed, gasping. The crowd erupted—not in cheers, but outrage. Mercy was weakness. Mercy was rebellion.
Master Renga stepped forward, face carved in stone.
"You dishonor the rite," he growled.
"I followed my blade," Kenji said calmly.
"Then your blade has betrayed the code."
Without warning, Renga drew his own sword—Enmetsu-no-Ha, the Blade of Annihilation, said to have ended a hundred lives.
The ground trembled.
"You disobeyed the ancient law," Renga barked. "If you will not kill… then I shall kill you!"
Kenji's eyes narrowed.
He raised Seijintō once more.
And the arena became a battlefield once again.
– To Be Continued –
Suspense End: Renga and Kenji charge at each other.#StoryTellers #WritersOfFacebook #MyStory #RealLifeStory #FictionWriter #ShortStory #InspireWithWords #EmotionalJourney #WriteWithPraise #CreativeWriting #DeepThoughts #MindsetMatters #LifeLessons #LetThemKnow #StoryPost #DailyInspiration