Four days later..

  The town gate was open—wide, silent, and trembling beneath the weight of what approached. The metal hinges groaned faintly in the wind, as if sharing the same quiet dread as those who stood watch. Dozens of officers and soldiers were stationed atop the town walls, lined in near-perfect formation, eyes narrowed at the dark tide slowly cresting the far-off hills. An army. Marching steadily forward. Their silhouettes were smeared by the early haze of morning, but the glint of weapons and the unmistakable rhythm of movement made their intent clear.

  I grasped my right wrist, feeling the familiar pressure, and stretched out my hand as I walked through the checkpoint. The motion was a stretch. A reminder that this body still moved under my control.

  The entire town had been evacuated to the central district—the only place considered defensible for a stand. For this day, and only this day, civilians were permitted to stay within our Headquarters. They huddled together like birds in a storm, seeking warmth in numbers. Children clung to parents. Elders sat with sunken eyes. Some of them held weapons—darksteel swords or spears forged in haste—but everyone knew the truth. If the Flames fell, their efforts would be in vain. Their blades were more for peace of mind than war.

  A soldier, posted near the inner entrance, dipped his head toward me.

  “Good luck, sir.”

  I paid him no heed. Not out of arrogance, nor contempt. But because of the reputation I was forced to carry. A single nod could be misinterpreted. A word could spark rumors. It was better to maintain the silence. People looked at me like I was a giant draped in shadows—some kind of divine warrior. I didn’t agree. I never did.

  Lately, there’d been whispers. That I should be promoted. That I’d earned a rank greater than the one I bore. But those people didn’t understand. They didn’t carry the same shame. Without my cheats, I wasn’t worthy of the even number four. Not truly. Not yet.

  Some people would kill for the blessings I possessed. Unconscious God, and Perforated Heart. None of them grasped the cost. The emotional damage it inflicted on me wasn’t just collateral. It was central to their design. If Unconscious God were to trigger near an ally—if it unleashed its chaos while friends were nearby—it wouldn’t be a power. It would be a curse. A slaughter. That isn't my strength. That’s not who I want to be. That’s something else.

  I need to grow. Without shortcuts. Without crutches. If I want to reach the level they say I belong to, then I have to bleed for it the way they did. I have to earn it.

  The man who saved us in Hasfra—he didn’t need cheats. His name was Kaiguro, moniker, The Ruler. I’ve only gathered fragments of intelligence on him, but it paints a clear enough picture. He uses air pressure to launch attacks from afar. His control is so refined that the range is speculated to be up to two miles. A phantom fist from across the field.

  Kaiguro was born deep in the Great Forest of Pahn, raised among one of the many warrior tribes scattered throughout its labyrinthine green. After years of training, he left the forest through a negotiated rite of passage, eventually finding his way to Grand Sasebella. It was there he did the unthinkable. He challenged a sitting Flame.

  Ordinarily, a challenge like that would have been rejected outright. The Flames were elite. Handpicked, protected, untouchable. But Leo, ever hungry for spectacle, allowed it. The Flame Kaiguro faced was no slouch—ranked fourth, and once a subordinate of my own father.

  Kaiguro dismantled him.

  With an unrelenting barrage of air jabs, swift, invisible blasts of force projected through precise punches, he shredded through the Flame’s defenses. The man couldn’t even get close. His skin tore, his stance broke, and he collapsed before managing a single clean strike. It wasn’t even a contest. Even if his style wasn't suited for range, a Flame falling like that was inconceivable.

  After that, that Flame left the Sun Clan entirely, rejecting further titles. He lives now in Chatna, where he serves a noble family from the shadows, away from his defeat. Finn told me he was the closest fighter to Leo.

  But I disagree.

  Sure, Finn’s speed might eclipse even Leo’s—maybe. On a good day. But Kaiguro’s technique? It’s untouchable. Effortless. It doesn’t drain him the way Perforated Heart shreds my insides, or how Finn’s bursts leave him rattled with enough usage. Kaiguro fights with minimal exertion. Every movement is intentional. Efficient.

  Finn, for all his greatness, nearly lost because of his heart. His emotions were used against him. Kaiguro doesn’t have that weakness. His tribe is far away. Safe. Protected. He has nothing to lose here. That makes him far more dangerous.

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  Kaiguro stood a few dozen yards in front of the gate, his silhouette sharp against the glare of the afternoon sun. Behind him stood his legion of brawlers, lined up in uneven ranks.

  Kaiguro gave a casual wave, almost disarmingly light-hearted. “Oh. Hello, Vellin.”

  I waved back, voice level. “Hello.”

  To his right stood Caleb, arms crossed and expression like stone. His gaze was locked on the horizon, where the slow and steady arrival of the Obsidian caravan pushed up trails of dust across the flatlands. His jaw tightened. “They still have that many men?”

  I stepped up beside him, folding my hands behind my back. “No. Some of them are mercenaries. But they were paid in full, so you could consider them the same as their diehard soldiers.”

  My eyes scanned the front lines of the caravan. Amid the rows of armored footmen and disciplined columns, I spotted a figure striding ahead with a theatrical gait. He wore a golden suit, absurdly loud against the muted tones of the battlefield. He twirled something in his hand. Thin, glinting in the light. It caught the sun just enough for me to recognize it. A wire.

  Yeah. That’s right.

  That’s Hematite, the fifth Mineral, moniker, The Bloody Wire. Known for his brutality, he was infamous for turning a battlefield into a butcher’s playground with just a flick of his wrist.

  I scanned the group, frowning. “I don’t see Haet.”

  Kaiguro raised his fist slightly, the air tightened around him. “Should I attack?”

  Caleb’s fingers twitched, his eyes sharp. “No.”

  Then, like a wave halting mid-surge, nearly the entire enemy army stopped moving. Some of the soldiers lagged for a moment before realizing what was happening, then slowed to match the formation. They were still a mile out. The air became eerily still.

  From the center of their halted ranks, five figures emerged—casually dressed, each radiating a different shade of menace. They walked without armor, without urgency. One of them wore Toda’s exact garments.

  These had to be the last of their transcended: the Goko Twins, Borschmack, Hematite, and Tektite—the one meant to carry on Toda’s legacy.

  Just then, Finn appeared in a flash of displaced air, landing beside us without sound. His expression was calm, but his presence sparked a ripple of unease across our front. “They want us to meet them in the middle.”

  A second later, Leo arrived. He carried his sword in his left hand, loose and confident. He appeared beside Kaiguro, his cloak trailing behind him like an orange flame. “Let’s do just that.”

  Together, we began to walk. Our footsteps beat in unison across the dry grass. One step, then two. After about a hundred paces, we stood face to face with them.

  I crossed my arms, grounding myself. Finn stretched out his fingers, loosening his joints. The field between us throbbed with invisible pressure. For a moment, no one said a word.

  Then Hazo smiled. “Been a while, Kaiguro.”

  He said it with a mocking tone. There was weight behind the words. He and Kaiguro fought during the first war. That long scar across Kaiguro’s eye—that was Hazo’s mark. Or rather, Hazo and Yaro’s. Together, they burned his face in an ambush.

  Leo stood in the center, quiet as always.

  Kaiguro’s voice cut through. “This is a waste of time. Let’s just go at it already.”

  The smaller Goko twin stared at Leo, eyes glassy, mesmerized. Something about Leo’s presence unmoored him. Behind the front line, Tektite stood partially obscured by Hematite. His expression intense. “I don’t want to use my army if I don’t have to,” Tektite said flatly.

  Leo lifted his thumb, revealing the edge of his sword. “Just me and you then.”

  Hematite stepped forward slightly, wire dancing between his fingers. “Calm down, you fool. We have double your number. If you do that, there’s going to be casualties on both sides. Your civilians included. We propose this...”

  Leo sheathed his sword in a single motion, the steel sliding home. Caleb rubbed his chin, annoyed. “A proposal? Why are we pretending to care about rules of war? Leo, let’s just kill them now. I’ll take down their army alone.”

  Leo raised a hand, silencing him without a word.

  Hematite continued, “We will fight one on one battles. The battle only ends with the other one’s death. We will graciously let you choose the lineup. Interference in these battles will result in our entire force moving.”

  Leo’s eyes narrowed. “Ok. Tektite’s mine.”

  He said it with complete calm. No bravado, no raised voice. Beneath that stillness, I could feel it. Leo wasn’t afraid of Tektite. Not even slightly.

  Tektite’s eyes sharpened. His bloodlust exploded outward like a floodgate bursting open. Every one of us—except Leo—felt it instantly. It paralyzed the air. My lungs felt like they’d seized. Even Caleb tensed slightly. Leo didn’t flinch. He pushed back, his own aura surging up like a tide. The invisible clash between the two churned the wind. From the outside, nothing moved, but inside, they were battling already.

  They were even.

  Tektite backed off. The atmosphere was too heavy. If this tension stayed, someone would snap. I stepped forward, grounding my voice. “We accept your proposal.”

  All of us turned around and walked a few feet back. We huddled in a loose half circle just out of earshot.

  Kaiguro cracked his knuckles, voice low but steady. “Let me go first. I’m going to kill that bastard Hazo. Any naysayers?”

  None. Not even me. I didn’t care who fought first, or who I would fight. I was stronger than ever. The only one I wouldn’t face was Tektite.

  Kaiguro stepped forward, placing his left palm on his right shoulder and rolling it. His muscles flexed. “I choose Hazo.”

  Hazo stepped out from his group with a slow confidence, straightening his thumb, index, and middle finger on his right hand. His walk was unhurried, almost ceremonial.

  This fight would come down to one question. Could Kaiguro keep Hazo at bay?

  Back during the first war, it took both brothers to scar Kaiguro, and they were only nineteen then. Now, Hazo was fully developed, both in speed and power. He had filled out. Matured. Grown into his body. Kaiguro clasped his hands together in a silent prayer. The wind coiled around his hands.

  Hazo dropped into a front stance from Karate, then released released his bloodlust.

  “It’s time for the Ruler to be overthrown.”