Kaito’s cloak swirled as the crimson rain stopped. Stones still smoldered, blood spattered every broken stone, and, most important to him, the young adventurers he had mentored stood in a battered half-circle, bruised yet unbowed. Pride flickered behind his steely gaze, but there was no time to linger on it. It was his turn. A hush fell over the Strongest Guild as Shunjiro, supported by Ryuji only moments ago, limped the final steps on his own and joined them. Aiko’s eyes went wide. “You’re- you’re really standing!” Sora actually whooped, slapping Shunjiro’s shoulder before remembering the wound he got only a few minutes earlier. Yoshinori exhaled, a tremor of relief rippling through the lingering sparks around his fingers. “I don’t know how I’m breathing either,” Shunjiro admitted, voice rough but steady. “All I remember is Itsuki and Aira working, then… the wound closed. If I’m alive, it’s on them.” Aira managed a wan smile; Itsuki wiped a tear from her cheek, then turned to the more urgent task at their feet. They knelt around Tetsuo’s motionless form and gently rolled him onto his back. The slash ran from chin to hairline, an ugly channel where bone showed white and the left eye socket was an empty, blood-slick hollow. “Still breathing,” Yoshinori whispered, pressing two fingers to the thick pulse in Tetsuo’s neck. Itsuki tried to summon a glow; only a faint candle-flicker answered. Aira laid trembling palms over the wound, but her water-light sputtered and died. “That’s all we have,” she said, voice breaking. Yuki stepped forward, palms already shining frost-blue. “Then I’ll buy us time.” A chill rushed over the gash; blood hissed to crimson ice, sealing the flow and numbing the raw nerves. Tetsuo’s breathing eased into a ragged rhythm. “He’ll keep that eye scar forever,” Sora muttered, forcing a grin that didn’t hide his worry. “Bet he calls it ‘battle decor.’” Shunjiro flexed his fingers; the strange sand-threads beneath his skin tingled, but he was mobile. He glanced toward the plaza where Kaito squared off against Suzu. “First time I get to see Master Kaito cut loose,” he murmured, an almost boyish excitement glinting behind the fatigue. But beside him, Itsuki wrung the hem of her ruined sleeve, eyes locked on her sister’s distant silhouette. “Kaito’s duty is capture or kill,” Yoshinori reminded softly. Itsuki shook her head, tears returning. “Suzu’s not herself, she’s corrupted. If we can restrain her, maybe… maybe there’s still a way back.” She looked at Kaito’s poised katana and whispered a plea only Shunjiro heard: “Please, Kaito, don’t end her… save her.” Kaito planted his feet, blade angled toward the sky as silver wind curled along the edge. Behind him, the Strongest and their allies tightened ranks around Tetsuo’s ice-bandaged form. Whatever happened next would decide not only the fate of Suzu, but the faith these young adventurers placed in the man they called a mentor, and in the fragile hope that corruption could still be undone. A single heartbeat, then Kaito vanished. To the onlookers it was as if the Guild-master flickered out of existence: dust barely had time to swirl in the place he’d stood before a silver arc flashed behind Suzu. Katana and swordsman materialised together, momentum crashing forward in a single, perfect stroke. So fast…! Sora’s eyes could only track the after-image. The edge of Kaito’s blade glimmered once, then bit into the small of Suzu’s back, severing nothing vital yet severing everything that mattered. A ripple of pale light burst from the impact, not steel on flesh but spirit cutting spirit; Suzu’s corrupted aura shattered like glass, crimson shards dissolving. Suzu staggered two steps, mouth open in a silent gasp, before her knees gave way. She collapsed to all fours, the blood-whip fizzling out of existence. No crimson spray followed, because there was nothing left to give. Every drop she could safely expend had already been wrought into blades and shields; to draw another ounce would drain the life from her veins. Kaito’s precision strike hadn’t severed a barrier, it had severed her last chance to recycle that dwindling supply. With her body perilously low on blood, Suzu could no longer shape a weapon, nor even stem her own loss, without courting instant death. A hushed awe swept the ruined street. Suzu’s eyes lifted to meet Kaito’s calm, impassive stare. Confusion flickered, then dawning horror. “What…what have I done?” Her voice was sand-dry, almost small. The frenzy that had driven her minutes earlier drained away, leaving only ragged breaths and a rising wave of guilt. She reached weakly to her side, as if expecting to draw more blood to fight, but her veins refused to answer. Only enough to keep her alive. Kaito slid his katana back into its sheath with a whisper of steel. “Your power is sealed,” he said simply. “You cannot fight further.” Shunjiro, leaning on Aiko’s shoulder, felt his heart slam in his chest. That…was Kaito’s true speed. Itsuki froze, tears mingling with rain on her cheeks. She dared one step forward, but halted, hands trembling. “Suzu…?” The name left her lips barely louder than a breath. Suzu lifted her head again, pain and shame warring in her expression. She opened her mouth, but no words came. On the rubble line, Yuki, Sora, Daichi and Yoshinori stood stunned, each braced for another wave of blood-blades that never arrived. Tetsuo, still iced and unconscious, breathed on. Kaito knelt beside Suzu, binding cords of silvery spirit-thread appearing between his fingers. “This ends here. Whether you find redemption will be decided later, but no one else dies tonight.” He glanced back at the battered adventurers, a silent nod that carried both reassurance and command: stand down, recover. Suzu’s eyelids fluttered. Exhaustion stole her consciousness, and she slumped into Kaito’s steady grasp. First light crept over the shattered waterfront, draping the ruined city in pale gold. Fires guttered, and the last of the crimson rain steamed from cracked stone. For the first time in hours, the air felt cool and clean. Even with Suzu on her knees, Kaito felt the hairs on his neck rise, something else was coming. A pin-prick of violet light opened overhead, spiraling wider until it became a door in the sky. Wind rushed inward, tugging at cloaks and loose rubble. Three silhouettes drifted through the opening, each draped in matching black-and-purple cloaks. The first was tall and straight-backed, cloak snapping around polished boots. Beside him strode a woman whose confident gait and watchful eyes gave her an unmistakable authority. A third figure, hood drawn low to hide every feature, hovered a pace behind the pair, silent as a shadow. The portal snapped shut, leaving only a rippling afterglow. Kaito curled his fist. It can’t be. The man’s polished shoes clicked on broken pavement. His presence pressed on every spirit in the square, cold and heavy as deep water. “Long time no see, Kaito,” he called, a thin smile tugging at his lips. Mockery dripped from every syllable. Kaito’s jaw tightened. “Tsubasa…” Spatial glyphs pulsed around the newcomer’s fingers, proof enough, even if Kaito hadn’t recognized the face. Tsubasa, master of portals… and trouble. “Today will be your last, Tsubasa,” Kaito answered, voice steady, steel in every word. Tsubasa’s only reply was a shrug. He rolled one wrist, and a small gateway blinked open beside him. In the same heartbeat he vanished, and reappeared among the younger adventurers before anyone could raise a blade. Yuki gasped; Sora’s was ready to strike but froze. The stranger stood nose-to-nose with Shunjiro, icy eyes flicking over the battered fighter as if inspecting a prize. “You have an invitation to join my guild,” he said, tone flat, as though offering mundane directions rather than a life-changing command. Shock flared in Shunjiro’s chest, chased instantly by anger. Sweat and sand still clung to his skin from Suzu’s strike, and now this stranger spoke as if he owned the field. “I don’t know you,” Shunjiro shot back, voice rough and hot. “Are you with Suzu?” “Not yet, at least,” Tsubasa replied, calm as dawn. Brows knit, Shunjiro stepped forward despite the ache in his ribs. “What do you mean about that?” Tsubasa’s smirk widened. “I mean I am taking her back with me and forcing her to join me.” The words settled like frost. Shunjiro’s pulse thundered in his ears. Images of Itsuki sobbing over Suzu’s victims flashed behind his eyes, he didn’t think he moved. “I won’t let that happen!” he roared, feet tearing furrows through the broken street as he launched himself at Tsubasa. His right fist blazed with raw spirit, a comet’s arc aimed straight for the silver-haired man’s jaw. Tsubasa’s smirk only widened. He lifted two fingers. A palm-sized gateway blossomed in front of Shunjiro’s knuckles. The punch vanished into swirling violet light, and Shunjiro’s momentum yanked him forward into empty space. His punch vanished into violet light … and so did he. One heartbeat he was mid-lunge, the next he was simply gone, space folding around his frame like a snapped curtain. The street where he had stood was suddenly empty, rubble still settling, his shout of surprise truncated into silence somewhere far beyond the battlefield. The flicker of disappearance was all the opening Kaito needed. Now. Sand burst beneath his feet as he blurred forward, katana flashing in the newborn sun toward Tsubasa’s exposed throat. But a gleam of black iron, Tsubasa’s kunai rose to meet the strike. Metal screamed; sparks erupted between their faces. “We shouldn’t be too hasty, Kaito,” Tsubasa murmured, voice silk over steel. “We haven’t seen each other in so long, let’s savor the reunion.” Mock cordiality belied the lethal pressure in his grip. Kaito twisted, trying to slide the katana past the kunai, but Tsubasa pivoted, dropping through a plate-sized portal beneath his own boots and re-emerging behind Kaito in the same breath with a reverse slash. Steel clashed again; sparks rained over shattered stone while wind from their duel sent banners whipping and debris skittering down the empty street. Portals flared open like jagged wounds in the air, rippling scarlet-violet light across the shattered street. “Scatter,” Tsubasa murmured, and three rifts snapped shut around his chosen targets. Aiko, Yuki, and Sora vanished, and re-appeared a good hundred meters away on the cracked plaza at the harbour’s edge. The moment their boots hit stone, a new presence dropped in after them: a hooded man whose black-and-purple cloak billowed as he landed in a perfect, cat-like crouch. A crescent-bladed scythe gleamed in his grip, its edge emitting a faint, sickly shimmer. He straightened, pushing back his hood to reveal slicked-back ink-black hair and a smile that never reached his half-lidded, amusement-filled eyes. “Name’s Renjiro,” he said, rolling the scythe once with showman’s flourish. “I’ll be your executioner this morning. Try not to blink, you’ll miss something important.” Sora planted himself between the newcomer and Yuki. “Cute entrance,” he growled, fists lifting. “But you’re swinging that farm tool at the wrong people.” Yuki’s breath condensed in the chill that now leeched from Renjiro’s weapon. Frost edged her fingertips as she summoned her ice. “Sora, careful. That scythe… doesn’t feel normal.” Renjiro’s grin widened. “Smart girl. One touch, and it drags your spirit straight into corruption. Terrible way to spend the rest of eternity.” He lunged. The scythe blurred, carving arcs that hissed through the air. Sora ducked under the first sweep, feeling the wind from the blade burn his cheek like acid heat; Yuki answered with an ice shard volley that forced Renjiro to twirl away, boots skidding in a spray of crystals. A crack of displaced space signalled the third combatant’s arrival on the plaza’s far side. A lean woman stepped from a tear in reality, the same cloak draping over an elegant, almost regal stance. Her purple hair spilled around a face devoid of warmth; with every step, stone tiles beneath her feet blackened, crumbling to powder. She regarded Aiko with faint amusement. “Reina of Decay,” she announced, voice smooth as glass. She lifted her bare right hand; veins of onyx rot pulsed beneath the skin. “Anything I touch erodes. Flesh, steel, earth, makes no difference. I do hope you’re quick.” Aiko’s pulse hammered, but she met the woman’s gaze without flinching. “Aiko of the Swap. Anything I touch can disappear.” She flashed a razor smile. “Let’s see whose trick is faster.” Reina’s answering smirk oozed disdain. “By all means… impress me.” Across the ruined square, Renjiro pushed Sora back with a flurry of feints, then pivoted to Yuki, trying to catch her off-guard. The scythe’s edge skimmed a strand of her hair; the icy braid withered instantly, curling to ash before hitting the ground. Yuki’s eyes widened. “Don’t let that blade nick you, one graze, and you’re as good as dead!” “Figured,” Sora barked, re-engaging. “Then we don’t get hit.” Renjiro laughed, delighted. “Excellent plan. Let’s test it.” Steel, frost, and shadow crashed together as two new duels ignited on the blood-soaked plaza, Sora and Yuki trading desperate teamwork against the corruption scythe, Aiko and Reina circling in a lethal dance of swap and rot, while, far behind them, Kaito and Tsubasa’s clash still sent shock-waves rattling through the waking city.