The sudden clash broke through the heavy quiet of the burning village. Smoke stung their eyes, and flickering embers drifted in the air as Shunjiro, Itsuki, Yoshinori, and Tetsuo confronted the raiders. It was a desperate battle: though they had managed to separate most of the raiders from their leader, it was clear the enemy possessed enough power to make each confrontation perilous. Shunjiro and Itsuki found themselves facing three raiders behind the towering stone wall Tetsuo had conjured. One of the men, burly and broad-chested, brandished a heavy club wrapped in iron bands. “I’ll deal with this one,” Shunjiro announced, stepping forward. He braced himself, fists raised. Itsuki’s eyes widened with concern. “Are you crazy? Be careful!” Shunjiro’s blood pounded. “Just trust me!” he shot back, forcing a grin despite the knot of uncertainty in his gut. The raider let out a guttural laugh. “You think your bare hands can match me, kid?” Shunjiro ignored the jibe. The raider swung the club in a vicious arc. Shunjiro lunged backward at the last moment, the brutal wind of the swing ruffling his hair. This guy’s fast, even with that weight. Shunjiro knew a single miscalculation could shatter bone. Adrenaline prickled across his skin as he ducked low, throwing a quick jab at the raider’s ribs. The strike landed with a dull thump, knocking the man off balance. Yet the raider recovered swiftly, unleashing a furious backhand that grazed Shunjiro’s shoulder. Pain flared. Gritting his teeth, Shunjiro clamped down on the ache and pressed forward. Another punch, this one to the man’s gut, forced him to stagger, but it still wasn’t enough to drop him. He’s tougher than I expected, Shunjiro realized, scanning for an opening. The raider lunged again, but Shunjiro ducked under the blow and drove a powerful elbow into the man’s jaw. At last, the burly raider’s grip on the club loosened; with a second strike, an uppercut, Shunjiro sent him crashing to the ground. Panting, he turned just in time to see the next raider charging in with a dagger. “Shunjiro!” Itsuki shouted, hurrying behind him. Her glowing hands hovered near his back, ready to mend any injury if needed. He pivoted to meet the dagger-wielding foe, swiftly snatching the man’s wrist mid-thrust. With a grimace, Shunjiro twisted the limb, forcing the dagger to clatter on the ground. This raider, leaner and more agile, retaliated with a swift kick to Shunjiro’s thigh, nearly buckling him. But Shunjiro gripped the man’s forearm and wrenched him sideways, rattling him. One well-placed knee to the raider’s torso caused him to gasp, and Shunjiro finished with a solid punch to his temple, rendering him unconscious. Breathing heavily, Shunjiro glanced at the third raider, a wiry figure gripping an old battle-axe. The man’s hands trembled slightly, rattled by how Shunjiro had taken out two of his comrades. “H-how?” he stammered. “You’re just a kid.” Shunjiro suppressed a swirl of fatigue. He’s not giving me space to breathe. But forcing a confident smirk, he raised his fists. “Try me,” he said, voice ragged. With a roar, the raider swung his axe in a deadly horizontal slash. Shunjiro sidestepped, barely, and aimed several punishing jabs at the raider’s abdomen. The man managed to block one blow with the axe hilt, but the second strike hit his side hard enough to stagger him. Seizing the moment, Shunjiro delivered a decisive uppercut that lifted the raider off his feet. The man crumpled, chest heaving before going still. Shunjiro dropped his fists, chest burning with exertion. Blood trickled from a shallow cut on his arm, courtesy of that last near miss. “I’m fine,” he rasped at Itsuki, who rushed over with healing magic glowing at her fingertips. Despite his triumphant grin, the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable. She let out a breath, relief flooding her features. “That was intense,” she said softly. “A single mistake could’ve ended you.” “I’m okay,” Shunjiro assured her, though his trembling limbs betrayed him. “Took down three grown men… with a lot of effort. Looks like our official F rank is far off from the truth.” Itsuki gave a shaky laugh. “Let me heal you quickly. We still have bigger problems to worry about.” On the other side of Tetsuo’s stone wall, Yoshinori squared off against five raiders. Their leathers and chain mail showed they were no novices in warfare. Holding a standard steel blade wouldn’t be enough to intimidate them. He steadied his breath, letting his spiritual energy pool deep in his core. Father always told me: pure spiritual lightning can shape itself into many forms if I focus. Lifting one hand, he felt crackling currents dance along his arms, intensifying until arcs of electricity illuminated the smoky gloom. One of the raiders spat in disbelief. “W-what is that?” Yoshinori’s gaze hardened. “My blade.” The lightning coalesced into a slender, glowing shape in his grip. It wasn’t a physical katana, no hilt or steel, just a sinuous blade of crackling azure energy. The raiders gave one another uneasy glances. Their leader among them, an axe-wielder with a cruel sneer, raised his weapon and snarled, “He’s just fancy lights! Surround him!” Without hesitation, the five advanced. But Yoshinori thrust the shimmering Lightning Katana forward. With a sharp, electric snap, a bolt of energy lashed out, forcing two men to stumble back. The other three pressed their assault, forcing Yoshinori to dart aside. Sweat beaded on his brow as he concentrated on maintaining the blade’s integrity while fighting. It’s no easy feat, he thought, summoning flickers of lightning to repel their strikes. Each time an enemy’s weapon clashed with the lightning, sparks exploded. The shock jolted them, but more importantly, it drained Yoshinori’s stamina with each collision. One raider tried to flank Yoshinori’s left. Yoshinori pivoted, delivering a quick diagonal slash. The lightning cut through leather armor with a sizzle, leaving a scorched line that made the man cry out and stumble. Another raider seized the opening to bash Yoshinori’s shoulder from behind. Pain rattled through him, nearly causing the blade to flicker out. He spun, raising his crackling Katana to block a downward sword strike in a shower of sparks. “Too many at once,” Yoshinori hissed, forcing the man’s weapon aside. I’ve got to pick them off faster. Summoning a pulse of lightning down the blade, he unleashed a short-range shock that zapped the two nearest raiders, dropping them in spasms of pain. That left three still standing. “Enough!” the axe-wielder roared, brandishing his weapon in a two-handed grip. “I’ll break that lightning trick of yours!” He charged, swinging with savage strength. Yoshinori barely sidestepped in time, the shockwave from the near miss sending a swirl of ash in the air. Gathering his focus, he prepared another lightning surge. He had to find a moment to subdue the rest before they overwhelmed him. Nearby, Tetsuo faced off against the raider leader, Makoto. The man was broad-shouldered, wearing a ragged cloak that shimmered with strange, swirling energy. A noxious cloud of sickly green poison emanated around him, leaving the ground scorched where it touched. Already Tetsuo’s eyes stung from the fumes. Makoto’s grin twisted across his face in an unsettling way, his eyes showing a strange glimmer that made Tetsuo’s skin crawl. “You worthless pests,” he snarled. “Should’ve stayed in the cradle, adventurers.” Tetsuo brought his fists up. “Cut the theatrics. Fight me properly!” Makoto’s laughter rang out, carrying an odd, discordant edge. “Fight you properly? You can’t even see the full extent of my power.” As if on cue, the green haze around him darkened, as though tainted by black tendrils. The swirl in the air pulsed in sync with Makoto’s ragged breathing, causing it to shift to a deeper, more sinister hue. Yoshinori, preoccupied with his own skirmish not too far away, caught a glimpse of the transformation. His heart lurched. That aura… it’s not just poison. It’s something else. He remembered a line from his father’s research notes about “corruption” , a malignant influence that could twist spiritual energy into something uncontrollable and vile. But before Yoshinori could voice concern, he had to parry another blow from the axe-wielder. Tetsuo, oblivious, just furrowed his brow. “What the heck is this black smoke?” he muttered, stifling a cough. “You doping yourself up or something?” Makoto smirked, taking advantage of Tetsuo’s momentary confusion. He swung a massive warhammer from behind his cloak with terrifying speed. Tetsuo barely leaped aside, the hammer smashing into the earth and sending shards of rock flying. Grunting, Tetsuo steadied himself, adrenaline surging. “I don’t care what weird trick that is, you’re going down.” He lunged, aiming to land a straight punch. But as soon as his knuckles neared Makoto’s noxious aura, dizziness engulfed him. He stumbled, vision swimming. Makoto cackled. “My power is beyond your rank. You’re only F rank, boy.” Yoshinori managed to knock one more raider flat with a lightning surge and, in the brief lull, cast a worried glance at Makoto. The swirling darkness in Makoto’s aura flared, shifting erratically. If that’s truly corruption, we’re in dire trouble, Yoshinori thought. He doesn’t seem fully consumed yet, but it’s definitely present… He bit his lip, shouting across the chaos, “Tetsuo, Shunjiro, be careful! I think Makoto’s energy is corrupted. His power could be uncontrollable!” Shunjiro’s head jerked around, confusion furrowing his brow as he subdued a dazed raider. “Corruption? What’s that?” “I don’t know, but it sounds bad,” Tetsuo growled, still trying to regain balance from his near-miss. His head pounded from the swirling toxins. “Whatever it is, I’m not letting him win!” Itsuki, hearing Yoshinori’s cry, felt a chill run through her. “Corruption? That can’t be good…” Makoto only chuckled at the exchange, dark haze swirling ominously. “You know nothing, worthless adventurers. My power is beyond your comprehension.” Makoto lifted his arms, unleashing an even thicker blanket of poison. The air crackled with vile energy. Tetsuo’s eyes burned, and coughs racked his chest. Shunjiro, who had just approached from behind the stone wall, reeled as the stench assaulted him. Itsuki tried to cast a healing aura around them, but the fumes corroded the edges of her light, forcing her to strain every muscle to keep the group from succumbing. “Stay close to me!” she gasped, voice trembling with exertion. Shunjiro’s vision blurred, black specks dancing at the corners of his sight. “This… is bad,” he muttered, forcing himself to remain upright. Sweat rolled down his face, mixing with grime and ash. Makoto grinned, a monstrous, unhinged expression. “You see now? You can’t even stand against my poison, let alone my full strength.” Nearby, Yoshinori finished off his final raider with a well-timed lightning slash, the man crumpling under the searing jolt. Then he tried to pivot, only to stagger as Makoto’s vile aura expanded further, scraping at his lungs. We’re losing ground fast, Yoshinori thought. We’re definitely not ready for B rank, let alone something possibly worse. All four of them regrouped, limbs shaking, eyes watering. Itsuki threw out another burst of healing, pushing back just enough poison to prevent them from collapsing. But every second they spent in Makoto’s noxious cloud drained their strength further. “What do we do?” Tetsuo coughed, chest heaving. “We can’t even get near him, and that warhammer would pulverize us.” Shunjiro tried to steel his resolve. “We can’t run, these villagers need us. Aya is counting on us, too.” “I know,” Yoshinori said through gritted teeth, sparks still flickering around his partially manifested Lightning Katana. “But if we keep fighting head-on, we’ll lose. We need a new plan, fast.” Makoto stood a short distance away, shoulders shaking with deranged laughter. The swirling darkness of his aura continued to churn, not fully unleashed but enough to give him a dreadful edge. The villagers watched in terrified silence, pinned by the poison or corralled by leftover raiders who clung to consciousness. Shunjiro’s fist tightened. “We’re so close. We can’t give up.” Itsuki set her jaw, sweat beading at her temple. “We’ll figure something out, just hold on a little longer.” Despite the tremors in their limbs, none of them were willing to flee. The sickening aura pressed in, each breath a battle. Makoto’s sneer never wavered, his eyes reflecting that creeping corruption that Yoshinori had recognized. “You’re no match for me,” Makoto declared with wicked glee, voice echoing through the dying flames. He hefted his warhammer onto his shoulder, vile haze swirling around him like a serpent. “This poison will break you before you can land a single decisive blow.” Shunjiro forced a shaky grin, refusing to wilt beneath the intimidation. “We might be F rank… b-but we’re not out yet,” he said, though he could feel his knees threatening to buckle. His determination stirred a flicker of hope in the rest of them. Even Yoshinori, who weighed probabilities and saw how slim their chances were, refused to relent. We came here for Aya, and we are the only ones standing between the raiders and these innocent lives. We can’t let fear paralyze us. But the question still loomed: How could they defeat Makoto’s poisonous aura and the dark energy swirling around him? “It’s got to be some kind of advanced spiritual technique,” Yoshinori rasped. “And… that black energy might be corruption. We’ll deal with it. We have to.” Neither Shunjiro nor Tetsuo fully grasped what “corruption” meant, but they heard the urgency in Yoshinori’s voice and redoubled their resolve to fight on. Meanwhile, Itsuki felt her healing magic wavering under the toxic assault. “This can’t go on…” she coughed, chest burning. “We need a plan,” Yoshinori reaffirmed, voice taut with urgency. “We can’t keep fighting like this, not without a strategy. If we do, we’re finished.” Shunjiro, struggling to remain upright, nodded fiercely. “We’ll figure something out,” he vowed, stepping closer to Tetsuo and Yoshinori, protective instincts flaring. “We have to. We’re so close to saving Aya, and everyone else.” Despite the roiling dread, a determined light still shone in their eyes. Together, they stood amidst the suffocating smoke, battered but unbroken. Makoto glowered at them, a creeping sense of malevolent triumph in his posture. And so the four prepared themselves, hearts pounding, minds racing. The next moment of the fight would decide everything, The Strongest Guild might either rise to the occasion, or be crushed by a foe far beyond their rank. But the path they had chosen allowed no turning back.