UZOMO
Rocky drew his sword without hesitation, and thunderous energy erupted from the blade.
Hasib twisted his mouth into a scowl, glaring at his own blade. "Huh. Show up already."
That was when Itoshi walked over, and the three of them gathered around him without needing to be told.
"So," Itoshi said, looking between Hasib and Sara, "Rocky’s already drawn his. What’s holding the two of you back?"
Neither of them answered right away.
Sara looked down at her own sword, turning it slowly in her hands. She’d told herself this would come naturally, the way it seemed to for everyone else but watching Rocky’s blade blaze to life in front of her had made something in her chest tighten. f he can find it this fast, I don’t get to fall behind. Not anymore.
Hasib felt something similar settle into his jaw, though he’d never have said so out loud. Every excuse he’d made for himself over the past few days I’ll get it eventually, there’s no rush. suddenly felt hollow standing next to Rocky’s storm-wrapped sword. Whatever this took, he decided right then, he was going to give it everything he had, starting now.
Hasib muttered under his breath anyway, unable to help himself. "It’s not like Rocky’s got some crazy advantage."
"What are you trying to say," Sara shot back, "when you can’t even manage what he did?" She nodded toward his sword. "You haven’t gotten it to do anything."
"Enough." Itoshi’s voice cut cleanly through both of them. "Running your teammate down doesn’t make you stronger. It just makes you small." He looked between the two of them. "Your job right now isn’t to compare yourselves to him. It’s to understand your own energy how it moves, what it responds to. Keep at it. Both of you."
They quieted down, chastened, and went back to their swords without another word between them.
Rocky found Itoshi again not long after. "Teach me something. Anything that’ll make me stronger, fast."
Itoshi laughed outright. "Ha! And what, you think you’re going to become ’great’ overnight?"
He pointed off toward a tree at the edge of the clearing. "See that one? Cut it down perfectly even. Smooth, straight through, all the way across."
Rocky took one look at it, grabbed the reins of his horse, and rode off toward it without another word.
Far off, near the border mountains of Dragoland, Masura was in the middle of something else entirely.
Five swords stood driven into the ground around him, arranged into the points of a star, a symbol carved into the earth at its center. He fed his Zhoa energy outward through each blade, threading it back into the sword in his own hand.
A patrol of Warriors spotted him from a distance and began closing in, slow and careful. Masura didn’t stop what he was doing. He kept reading from the open book in his lap, unbothered.
The Warriors reached him with blades drawn, ordering him to stand down. They’d seen the Catalyst tucked at his side hand it over, they told him, and surrender now while he still could.
Masura only laughed and tightened his grip on his sword.
"Arrest him," one of them barked.
He raised the blade.
VINOMO
BLADE OF POISONOUS HEART
A cloud of black mist rolled outward from the edge, swallowing the Warriors before any of them could react. One by one, they collapsed, their bodies locking up as the venom took hold.
Masura’s smile widened.
"Well. That certainly made this easier for me." He returned to his reading.
He dragged the five fallen Warriors to the five points of the star, then planted his own sword at the center. Bowing his head over the open Catalyst, Masura began to read.
A dark energy slowly rose from the five swords. It traveled along the Zhoa lines Masura had drawn, converging toward the sword at the center. The five blades began to tremble as the energy poured into it, growing denser with every passing second.
At the end of it, Masura threw his head back and screamed a raw, guttural sound that tore across the mountainside. Thin purple veins spread up his forearm where the energy had entered him. He raised the sword high, breathing hard, a wide, satisfied grin spreading across his face.
Below, the sound of his scream reached a larger group of Warriors stationed further down the slope. They readied themselves, weapons drawn.
Masura climbed down to meet them, tucking the book away into a satchel at his hip. The Warriors closed in from every side, boxing him in.
"My, my. Let a man catch his breath." He looked around at the ring of blades surrounding him, unbothered. "All of you, against just me? Hardly seems fair." His grin sharpened. "Then again none of you are real Warriors anyway. Just commoners playing dress-up."
"Capture him!"
They rushed him as one. He met the first wave with his sword, cutting through the attack without slowing down.
A voice called out from behind the trees. "You bastard. You lying, cheating snake."
Masura’s eyes widened slightly then a smile crept back onto his face.
"Ohh. What was it Inosi, wasn’t it? So you’re here too."
Inosi stepped into the clearing. "I don’t know how strong you really are. But I’m not standing here and letting this many people die for nothing."
He turned to the others. "Fall back. All of you."
"But, sir !"
"Quiet. Now."
No one argued a second time. They pulled back behind him.
"I have to say, I’m impressed," Masura said, watching them retreat. "That kind of courage, from you. Go on, then get ready to die."
Inosi drew his own sword. The name left his mouth without hesitation.
TATSUMO
THE BLADE FOR DEMON’S BLOOD
A pale red glow wrapped around his hand and climbed the length of the blade, until the sword itself looked as though it had been dipped in blood.
Masura tilted his head. "...Interesting."
Inosi didn’t wait. He was already moving, closing the distance in a single burst of speed, and the slash he sent out didn’t stop at the reach of his blade it kept traveling, a thin beam of red light tearing straight across the clearing toward Masura’s chest.
Masura’s expression didn’t change. He simply raised his own sword and let the purple mist pour out to meet it.
The two forces collided somewhere in the middle of the field, and for one suspended second the whole clearing went white red light and violet smoke locked together in a hiss of pressure, the ground beneath them cracking outward in a ring, dust and torn grass thrown into the air. Then it broke apart in a shockwave that flattened the nearby brush and sent both fighters sliding back, boots dragging furrows through the dirt.
Neither of them had moved from where they’d landed.
An eagle’s cry rang out over open plains. A white horse thundered across the grass, and on its back rode a woman somewhere in her forties, dressed in a fitted, high-collared coat, her white hair streaming loose behind her.
The eagle dropped down and landed on her outstretched arm. She studied the way it moved, the small, urgent gestures it made and her brow furrowed. She sent it flying again with a flick of her wrist.
A younger woman riding just behind her called out. "What’s happened, Miss Suhi?"
"We need to get back. Now."
"Where to?"
"Dragoland."
"You seem to be in quite a hurry, Miss Suhi."
Something sparked behind Miss Suhi’s eyes a sharp, sudden flare of intent. Her hair whipped back in the wind, her body rocking in perfect rhythm with the horse beneath her as she pushed it faster.