The wind was cold. Not biting, not sharp—just… cold. Like absence. Like silence after a scream.
Hayato stood still among the ruins, the last of the flames flickering at his feet. Around him, the land bore the scars of a battle not seen, only felt: scorched trees, broken stone, shadows of things that had once lived.
And in the center of it all, a single sword buried in the earth.His sword.Once silver. Now black.
It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat muffled under layers of sorrow.Kurai's soul was inside it.
He hadn't meant to trap her. The sword had done it on its own—drawn by her last surge of power, her final breath, her whispered plea.
"Please… before I become him… before I become a monster…"
She had begged him.
She had smiled when he raised the blade.
And when it struck, the sky had gone silent.
Now, her soul lingered. Not fully gone. Not fully present. Just trapped—like a memory that refused to fade.
The sword—once a symbol of strength—was now a tombstone. Its blade shimmered with streaks of dark crimson, and from its edge, black flames coiled like mourning serpents. His own powers were changing, warping under the fusion of her essence and his fire. His once-golden flames had turned darker, deeper. Hungrier.
He didn't know what it meant. He only knew it hurt.
A sound behind him. Footsteps.
He didn't turn.
"Hayato."
It was Minamoto.
Steady. Calm. Just as he always was—but his voice was cautious. As if he were approaching a wounded beast.
Behind him came Yue, her eyes sharp, staff ready at her side but lowered. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
They both saw it—the ruined ground, the cursed blade, the look in Hayato's eyes.
Minamoto stepped closer, eyes flicking to the sword. "Is that…?"
"She's in there," Hayato said quietly.
Yue's breath caught.
He finally turned to face them. There was no fire in his eyes. Only ash. Grief sculpted his features, made him seem older, heavier.
"She told me what he did to her," he said, voice raw. "My father. The experiments. The pain. The transformation."
"And then?" Minamoto asked, though he already knew.
"She started losing herself. Bit by bit. I saw it in her eyes. The fear. The confusion." He paused. "She didn't want to be his puppet. Not again."
"And she asked you to…"
"She begged me."
Silence.
The rain started then. A soft drizzle at first, growing heavier with every second. It washed over the scorched land, soaking into the dirt, hissing against the dying embers.
Yue looked at the sword. "The flames…"
Black now. Not fully, but changing. Shifting. His fire had always obeyed him—wild but familiar. Now, it felt alive in a different way. It whispered, crackled with voices not his own. Her power—her demon essence—was seeping into him. Whether through grief, blood, or the cursed blade, he didn't know.
"She's still with me," he whispered.
Yue nodded slowly. "And what are you going to do now?"
Hayato stared into the horizon, where the storm clouds gathered like angry gods.
"I'm going to kill my father."