The fortress walls stood taller than ever, stone upon stone fitted by rough, calloused hands. Eugene watched his men drill in the courtyard, spears moving in perfect unison, their discipline already leagues beyond what most daimyo commanded.
But Eugene knew discipline alone would not earn him every ally. Some clans bowed to wealth. Others to fear. And some—like the Hojo—bent only to the blade.
A rider returned one morning, dust-streaked, bearing the seal of the Hojo. The message within was blunt, its brushstrokes carved like scars:
To Eugene of Kai,Words and coin are the tools of weak men. If you would have the Hojo's respect, prove your strength not in letters but in combat. Send yourself, or a champion worthy of your blood, to stand before Hojo warriors. Only then will we listen.
Eugene read the message thrice, his lips curving in a thin smile.
"They would test me," he murmured. "So be it. Let them learn why I am called the Genius Samurai."
Hiroshi stiffened. "My lord, this is dangerous. Hojo warriors are battle-hardened. They may demand a duel to the death."
Eugene's eyes glinted coldly. "Then I will ensure the death is not mine."
Two days later, Eugene rode eastward with a small escort, passing through rugged hills and pine forests until the great banners of the Hojo came into view. Their fortress was massive, its walls sheer as cliffs, its gates bristling with iron spikes.
At the courtyard's center, Hojo retainers gathered in ranks, armored in lacquered plates, their expressions stern. At their head stood Lord Hojo Ujiteru, tall and broad, with eyes like a hawk's.
"So," Ujiteru said as Eugene dismounted. "The boy-lord of Kai comes himself. I expected a trembling messenger."
Eugene bowed, neither too deeply nor too shallowly. "If words could win the Hojo, I would have sent them. But strength demands strength."
The Hojo lord barked a laugh, sharp as steel striking steel. "Good. Then you will fight. Not me, not yet—but one of my champions. Survive, and we will talk. Fall, and your name will be forgotten."
He gestured, and a giant stepped forward. The warrior's armor was lacquered black, his great naginata gleaming like moonlight. The crowd muttered his name: Hojo Tadakatsu, the Iron Fang.
Eugene stepped into the dirt circle. The AI's voice whispered in his mind, precise and calm:
[Opponent: Hojo Tadakatsu. Strength: Exceptional. Reach advantage: 2.1 meters. Weakness detected: right knee, old injury. Recommend strategy: bait overhead strike, counter with low-angle thrust.]
Eugene drew his blade. The steel sang as it left the scabbard, reflecting the sun.
The duel began.
Tadakatsu charged first, his naginata sweeping in a broad arc that would have cleaved a lesser man in two. Eugene pivoted lightly, the blade missing him by a whisper, dust spraying from the force.
The giant pressed the attack, his weapon a whirlwind. Eugene moved like water, slipping past each strike, his eyes calculating, patient. He could feel the crowd's energy shift—first surprise, then respect.
Finally, Tadakatsu roared and raised the naginata overhead for a crushing blow.
The AI pulsed:
[Now.]
Eugene lunged forward, his blade darting beneath the descending strike, stabbing low toward Tadakatsu's right knee. The giant staggered, his injured joint buckling.
Eugene did not hesitate. He pressed forward, blade flashing in a flurry, disarming Tadakatsu with a precise strike that sent the naginata spinning into the dirt.
The courtyard fell silent.
Eugene lowered his sword but kept his stance ready. "Yield, or fall," he said quietly.
For a long breath, Tadakatsu glared. Then, with a grunt, he dropped to one knee, bowing his head. "You… are no boy. You are steel itself."
Hojo Ujiteru stepped forward, clapping once, the sound booming across the courtyard.
"Well struck!" he roared. "Few have bested Tadakatsu, and fewer still without drawing blood. You have proven your strength. The Hojo will not march for Ishida—not while you stand."
Murmurs of approval rippled through the Hojo ranks. To them, Eugene was no longer a boy from a distant valley—he was a warrior worthy of their respect.
Eugene sheathed his blade and bowed once more, his voice calm but carrying to all.
"I seek not your submission, only your recognition. Together, we can shape an age where warriors need not be pawns of liars like Ishida."
Ujiteru's eyes gleamed. "We shall see, young warlord. For now, the Hojo watch with interest. Earn more victories, and you may find us at your side."
That night, as Eugene rode back under the light of the half-moon, Hiroshi could not hold back his awe.
"My lord, you faced their mightiest warrior and won. You have planted the seed of alliance."
Eugene's gaze was fixed on the horizon, his hand resting lightly on his sword.
"Seeds are nothing without soil and water. I will give them victories to believe in. Then even the proud Hojo will march beneath my banner."
The AI's voice hummed in his skull:
[Alliance network expanding. Probability of Ishida coalition collapse: 61%. Next phase: neutralize Satomi threat.]
Eugene's lips curved into a thin smile.
One by one, the wolves turn. Soon, Ishida will find himself surrounded—not by allies, but by teeth.