The heavy wooden door to Kenshin’s chamber clicked shut, leaving him entirely alone in the quiet stone room.
The faint light of the moons seeped through the iron-barred window, casting long shadows across the floor.
He stared at the wooden table near his bed.
Horuto had left a massive platter of roasted meats, dense breads, and a pitcher of clear water there, ordering Kenshin to eat to fuel his recovery.
But Kenshin could barely lift his arms.
His first day of physical conditioning under Horuto had been absolute torture.
The sheer volume of exercises—the constant pushing, lifting, and running—had broken his muscles down to the very fibers.
For ten years in that subterranean vault, he had never used his body for anything other than thrashing against iron chains.
Now, forced to build actual physical strength, his limbs felt like they were filled with molten lead.
Kenshin slumped onto the edge of his bed, gritting his teeth as a sharp pain flared up his spine.
His Absolute Regeneration was working, slowly knitting the torn muscles back together, but the exhaustion was mental as much as it was physical.
A soft knock echoed against the heavy oak door.
Before Kenshin could answer, the door pushed open.
Asami stepped into the dimly lit room.
She had removed her heavy purple armor, now wearing a simple, dark linen tunic that flowed elegantly over her slender, hourglass frame.
Her long, midnight-blue hair cascaded down her back like a river of dark silk, and her icy blue eyes scanned the room before locking onto him.
In her hands, she carried a small, ceramic bowl and a roll of clean linen bandages.
“You haven’t eaten,” Asami noted, her voice calm but carrying its usual strict undertone.
“I am… resting,” Kenshin replied, his voice slightly hoarse.
He tried to sit up straighter, refusing to look weak in front of her.
Asami walked forward, setting the bowl and bandages on the table beside the untouched platter of food.
“Resting will not repair the damage you did to your core today. Horuto pushed you to the brink of collapse. Your body requires nutrients, or your aura will begin to consume your own life-force to heal the tears in your flesh.”
She pulled up a wooden stool and sat across from him.
Without asking for permission, she dipped two of her slender fingers into the ceramic bowl, scooping up a glowing, pale-purple medicinal salve.
“Take off your shirt,” Asami ordered softly.
Kenshin hesitated, his dark green eyes widening slightly.
“I can heal myself. I have the regeneration—”
“Your regeneration is tied to that dark entity within you,” Asami interrupted, her icy gaze holding no room for argument.
“Relying on it for every little bruise builds a dependency. You must learn to heal like a warrior of the Underward. Now, remove the shirt.”
Swallowing his pride, Kenshin gripped the hem of his tunic and carefully pulled it over his head.
He looked away, acutely aware of the horrific matrix of scars, burn marks, and puncture wounds that covered his pale chest and back from Null’s relentless alchemical experiments.
Asami did not flinch.
Her expression remained entirely composed, though a faint flicker of sorrow danced deep within her sapphire eyes.
She reached forward and began to gently massage the glowing purple salve into the heavily bruised muscles of his shoulders.
A sharp hiss escaped Kenshin’s lips.
The salve felt like pure ice pressing into a raging fire, sending a shocking jolt of relief deep into his aching joints.
“Breathe,” Asami murmured, her touch surprisingly delicate for someone who wielded a massive, double-bladed polearm.
“The pain means the medicine is binding to your aura.”
For several long moments, the only sound in the stone chamber was the faint howling of the night wind outside the fortress.
Asami’s hands moved with practiced, rhythmic care, soothing the worst of the inflammation in his back and arms.
“Why are you doing this?” Kenshin asked quietly, breaking the heavy silence.
“When I first arrived, you looked ready to take my head off.”
Asami paused, her fingers lingering near a jagged scar on his shoulder blade.
“Because I judged you too quickly,” Asami confessed, her voice lowering into a quiet, almost melodic tone.
“When you broke free and slaughtered those guards, I saw only a rabid beast. A monster that needed to be put down. But after Master Brados explained everything… after I learned what your father subjected you to…”
She withdrew her hands, resting them on her lap as she looked down at the stone floor.
“I know what it feels like to be thrown away,” Asami said, her voice tightening with a rare vulnerability.
“Before Master Brados found me, I was a starving orphan, weeping in the mud of a ruined territory. My own family discarded me. If the Master had not extended his hand, I would have died completely alone.” This chapter was taken from NovelPing without permission.
Kenshin turned his head, his dark green eyes meeting her icy blue ones.
He saw the fierce, unyielding loyalty burning within her.
“We are a family here, Kenshin,” Asami continued, looking directly into his soul.
“Takashi forgot that. He let his ambition rot his heart, and he betrayed the only people who ever loved him. But you… you gave your own blood to pull Horuto back from the edge of death. You proved your worth.”
She stood up, wiping the remaining salve from her fingers with a cloth.
“You do not have to carry the weight of your past alone anymore,” Asami said softly, offering him a faint, beautiful smile that completely transformed her strict features.
“Eat your food. Rest. Tomorrow, the true training begins.”
“Thank you, Asami,” Kenshin replied, a genuine sense of warmth blooming in his chest.
She offered a single, respectful nod before turning and quietly leaving the chamber.
Kenshin looked at the closed door for a long time.
The suffocating loneliness that had plagued him for ten years felt just a little bit lighter.
He turned to the table, grabbed a piece of the roasted meat, and began to eat.
He needed to be strong.
He had a family to protect now.
-Break-
Leagues away from the safety of the Underward stronghold, the night air was thick with the stench of blood and decaying magic.
In the dim, candle-lit study of a hidden safehouse, Takashi stood over a wooden desk.
He wore a dark cloak to conceal his identity, his light green eyes frantically scanning a map of the territories.
His breathing was shallow, his mind racing with the consequences of his betrayal.
He had struck down Horuto.
He had slaughtered his own loyal guards.
He had turned his back on his father, Master Brados, all to seize a destiny he believed was rightfully his.
Takashi leaned heavily against the table, reaching for a feathered quill to draft a message to his new allies.
Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummeted to a freezing chill.
The candle flames flickered violently before turning a sickly, spectral cyan-blue.
Takashi froze.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
He slowly turned his head, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his sword.
Standing in the absolute silence of the room was Null.
The androgynous assassin wore his signature dark, layered mantle, the high collar hiding the lower half of his doll-like, flawless face.
His vivid turquoise eyes glowed with a hollow, emotionless void.
“You…” Takashi whispered, drawing his blade as panic surged into his chest.
“You seem like a threat somehow, Null. What are you doing here?”
Null did not speak.
He never spoke.
Instead, the assassin slowly raised his left hand.
Pinched between two of his slender fingers was a small, crisp piece of white paper.
Takashi narrowed his eyes, reading the immaculate, dark ink written upon it:
You made a mistake.
Takashi scoffed, taking a defensive stance.
“You are telling me what to do next? You and my father’s faction have no plan. You stupidly vanish somewhere and then return out of nowhere. You never explain anything. What even are you?”
Null slowly lowered the paper.
He reached into the folds of his cloak and retrieved another pre-written note, holding it up for the traitor to read:
I am not like the others.
I have no mercy.
Get ready to die.
Before Takashi could even process the words, a blinding flash of cyan lightning illuminated the room.
With a flash-step speed that defied physical comprehension, the assassin vanished from his spot and instantly reappeared directly behind Takashi.
Takashi roared, pivoting on his heel and bringing his sword up just in time to deflect the lethal strike.
The clash of metal rang through the study, sending a shockwave that shattered the windows.
“You are not normal!” Takashi grunted, his boots sliding backward against the wooden floorboards.
“I knew it from the start!”
Null remained completely silent.
His glowing turquoise eyes locked onto Takashi.
Suddenly, thick, black smoke began to pour from the hilt of Null’s sword.
The cyan lightning crackled violently, expanding outward.
Wraith’s Mirage.
Before Takashi’s horrified eyes, Null’s body began to fade in and out of reality.
The smoke coalesced, forming three, then five, then ten perfect physical clones of the assassin.
“No…” Takashi breathed, spinning around wildly as the clones surrounded him.
The copies struck simultaneously from every conceivable angle.
Takashi fought with the desperation of a cornered animal, his blade a blur as he tried to parry the onslaught.
But the speed was impossible.
He suffered a deep gash to his shoulder, then a slice across his thigh, his blood spraying across the walls of the safehouse.
As Takashi swung wildly at a clone, the phantom dissipated into smoke.
The real Null materialized directly in front of him.
With a merciless, horizontal flick of his wrist, Null swung the crackling cyan blade.
Slash.
The blade effortlessly cleaved through Takashi’s armor.
A sickening tearing sound filled the room as Takashi’s right side was sliced nearly in half.
His right arm was severed completely, falling to the floor with a heavy thud.
A fountain of blood erupted from Takashi’s mouth.
He collapsed to his knees, clutching the horrific, gaping wound in his torso.
He looked up, expecting the assassin to finish the job.
But Null merely stood there.
The clones faded away, and the jagged sword vanished into the shadows of his cloak.
Null simply turned his back, letting the traitor bleed.
Coughing violently, his vision swimming with darkness, Takashi forced himself up.
Using the very last reserves of his aura, he activated his fastest movement technique, bursting through the shattered window and fleeing into the night.
He ran blindly, stumbling through the dense forests, leaving a heavy trail of blood in his wake.
His mind fractured as the agonizing pain consumed him.
Takashi…
my son…
Your mother must be proud of you.
The memory of his father’s warm voice echoed in his dying mind.
The memories of training alongside Asami, of sparring with Horuto, of the family he had thrown away.
Takashi finally reached the edge of a high, grassy hill overlooking a vast, dark valley.
His legs gave out entirely.
He collapsed onto his back, staring up at the endless sea of stars in the night sky.
“I am sorry… Mother…” Takashi whispered, tears mixing with the blood on his face.
“I couldn’t even see you… after the time you sent me to Father…”
His light green eyes lost their focus, staring blankly into the heavens as his final breath left his lungs, leaving only the cold wind to mourn his passing.
Deeply Apologise for Delay….
It won’t happen again, Or Hope so.