Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Machine
The training floor of the Digital Shrine didn't feel solid.
Ren stepped onto the circular arena, and the white, mirror-smooth surface rippled under his sneakers like disturbed water. It reacted to him—measured him. That alone made his skin crawl.
"Stop gawking," Kage's voice cut in from above. "The Vex won't give you time to admire the scenery."
Ren swallowed and shifted his weight. "I'm not gawking. I'm… adjusting."
"Sure you are."
Nearby, Hina sat at her control station, eyes locked onto a web of floating screens. Her fingers moved fast—too fast. Ren noticed the slight tension in her shoulders.
"Loading Simulation Layer: Sengoku-Zero," she said. Then, more quietly, "Ren, stay centered. If your focus slips, the Aether-Katanas can backlash through your nervous system."
Ren's head snapped up. "Backlash how?"
Hina winced. "Like plugging your brain into a live wire."
"…You could've led with that."
"Three," she said firmly.
"Wait—"
"Two."
"Hina—!"
"One. Execute."
The world tore away.
The white arena dissolved into a bamboo forest, tall stalks stretching endlessly upward. Wind whispered through the leaves. The air smelled like wet soil mixed with something sharp—electric, artificial.
Ren's heart began to race.
Three figures stepped from the shadows.
They were human-shaped, but wrong—faces swallowed by darkness, bodies flickering with purple static beneath tight ninja garb. Their movements were smooth, precise, predatory.
"Okay," Ren muttered. "No pressure."
The ancient voice returned, calm and steady inside his mind.
Breathe. Feel the Echo. You are not wielding the blade. The blade is remembering you.
Ren closed his eyes and reached inward—toward that warm, vibrating spark in his chest.
Light flared.
The twin Aether-Katanas formed in his hands, humming softly like tuning forks.
The first Scout struck without warning.
Steel met sound. The impact rattled Ren's bones, sparks exploding between blue and purple. Pain shot up his arms as he stumbled back.
"Too stiff," Kage said flatly from above. "He's fighting them like tools."
Ren barely heard him.
The second and third Scouts split apart, circling him with terrifying coordination. Every step they took felt like a countdown.
"Ren," Hina said sharply, "your Sync Rate is slipping. You're at six percent!"
Ren clenched his jaw. Why won't they move right?
He was gripping the hilts too hard. Trying to force control. Trying not to die.
One Scout leaped high.
Instinct screamed.
Ren looked up—and the world changed.
Blue lines flooded his vision. Not shapes, not enemies—patterns. Motion before motion. Intention before action. He saw the strike happen before it fell.
Yes, the voice murmured. That is the Flow.
Ren didn't block.
He turned.
His body moved on its own, smooth and natural, like he was stepping into a rhythm he'd always known. One blade swept upward, slicing clean through the first Scout's throat. The other plunged forward, piercing the second's chest.
The blades sang—a sharp, clear note that cut through the forest.
Energy surged through Ren's veins.
"Now!" he shouted.
He didn't run.
He blurred.
The world compressed into a streak of blue light, and suddenly he was behind the last Scout. His feet never felt the ground. The Scout froze, flickered, and shattered into dissolving pixels.
Silence.
The forest faded, peeling away until the white arena returned.
Ren collapsed to his knees.
His hands were empty. His shirt clung to him with sweat. Every breath burned like fire.
"Well," Kage said after a moment, "you didn't die."
Ren laughed weakly. "Low bar."
Hina rushed down from her platform, eyes wide as she scanned her tablet. "Ren, this is incredible. When you hit fifteen percent, the system started syncing the blades to your DNA."
Ren looked at his hands.
They were steady.
"I'm not just using them," he said quietly.
"No," Hina replied. "You're becoming part of the Aether-Net."
A chill ran down his spine.
"The voice keeps talking about the 'First War,'" Ren said. "About reclaiming something. What actually happened?"
Hina hesitated.
Kage turned away.
"Ten thousand years ago," Hina said slowly, "time wasn't fractured. Past and present flowed together. But the Shogun of Shadows tried to stop that flow—freeze the world so it would belong to him forever."
Ren held his breath.
"The first Samurai Warriors shattered his crown," she continued, "and sealed him in the Void Between Seconds."
"And now," Ren said, standing despite the ache in his body, "he's breaking out."
A warning alarm screamed.
Kage's eyes snapped to a massive monitor blazing red. "Worse. The Castle Nexus just manifested downtown. The Admin protocols failed."
Ren didn't hesitate. "Then we don't train anymore."
Kage finally looked at him—really looked.
A sharp, approving smirk touched his lips. "Alright, Blue. Just try not to slow me down."