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The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the low howl of wind weaving through the rubble of the collapsed castle. King Kael stood still, his blade at his side, radiating golden and violet light. His shadow aura flickered faintly as his gaze remained fixed on the figures ahead of him.
From the shadows cast by Dagon Mirelock’s towering form, a figure stepped forward, his silhouette cutting sharp angles against the ruinous light.
Kael’s breath caught in his throat.
It was Commander Aiden.
For a moment, Kael convinced himself it couldn’t be real. But there he was, walking with the same confident steps Kael had seen countless times before. Except now, something was different. His presence was overwhelming, his aura radiating power far beyond what Aiden had been capable of the last time Kael had seen him.
Kael didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His mind raced, searching for answers, trying to process what he was seeing.
The silence stretched as Aiden stopped beside Dagon. The wind pushed lightly against the rubble, carrying the tension between the two former allies. Finally, Aiden broke the quiet.
“Are you just going to stand there looking like a lost lamb? Or are you going to say something?”
Kael’s hands tightened slightly on the hilt of his blade, his knuckles whitening. Still, no words came.
Aiden let out a faint sigh and turned his back to Kael, his expression unreadable. “It seems I came here for nothing.”
Kael’s voice finally broke free. “Please tell me they turned you into one of those things and you didn’t do this on your own free will…”
Aiden froze mid-step. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And if so?”
Kael’s tone sharpened, layered with disbelief and desperation. “Then fight it! It’s all mental. They’ve changed you into one of those things, but mentally, you’re still you—”
Before he could finish, Dagon’s booming voice cut through the exchange, dripping with mocking certainty. “There’s no point.”
He grinned broadly, gesturing toward Aiden like a proud sibling. “We all keep our free will. If Aiden wanted to rebel, he would’ve.”
Kael turned sharply toward Dagon, his shadow aura flaring ever so slightly. “Impossible…”His voice broke for the faintest second before regaining its edge. “You were a brother to me. We shared the same mentor. I know you would never freely serve someone like Arion!”
Before Kael could say more, Commander Aiden vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared right beside Kael, their heads so close that Kael could feel the subtle hum of energy radiating from Aiden. Aiden’s voice was low, almost a whisper, yet sharp enough to cut through Kael’s swirling thoughts.
“I chose to take the real side of victory against The Eclipse Sovereignty.”
Aiden’s hand rose, his blade drawn with deliberate precision. Kael could see the faint glint of the sword’s edge descending toward him, but he didn’t move—frozen not by fear, but by confusion.
Why?
The blade began to fall, but before it could connect, a cutting wind slash tore through the air, howling like an unseen predator. Aiden’s form flickered and vanished, reappearing instantly atop the broken castle’s stairs beside the four Sentients—Sylvaine, Dagon, Garran, and Valae.
Kael blinked, his body tensing as he tried to process what had just happened.
“You’ve gotten slow,” came a calm, familiar voice from his left.
Kael turned to see Kenshiro Takamura walking toward him, his katana sheathed but his hand resting lightly on its hilt. His white aura flickered faintly in the broken light, his calm demeanor masking the sharp edge of his presence.
“The others are still pushing ahead,” Kenshiro said, stopping a few paces from Kael. “But as soon as I felt his presence, I couldn’t help myself. I had to come back.”
Kenshiro’s dark eyes moved past Kael, locking onto Aiden atop the stairs. For a moment, neither man spoke, the tension between them palpable.
Finally, Kenshiro’s gaze softened slightly as he turned back toward Kael. “I guess he chose the wrong side of victory our masters fought against.”
Fifteen years ago, on the serene planet known as Sovereign Requiem, the air carried the gentle scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. This small, quiet planet in the Requiem Universe was a haven for the last surviving members of The Sovereign Requiem. Though the village had been rebuilt and relocated after its destruction in the Pre-Second Jewel War, its population remained small, a refuge for those seeking peace from battles past.
Amid the tranquility, the sharp clack of bamboo swords echoed across the sparring grounds as two boys engaged in a spirited duel.
A ten-year-old Kael pressed forward aggressively, his strikes sharp and deliberate. With each swing, his bamboo sword pushed his opponent, Kenshiro, backward. Kenshiro, only six years old, struggled to parry, his small frame trembling with exertion.
CRACK!
Kael’s final strike disarmed Kenshiro, knocking the bamboo sword from his hands and sending him tumbling to the ground. The young swordsman’s chest heaved as he looked up from his fallen position.
Kael stepped forward, his bamboo sword poised at Kenshiro’s throat. With a smirk, he declared: “You’ve no way out, little Kenshiro.”
Still on the ground, Kenshiro’s lips parted, his voice trembling but resolute. “I yield.”
“Enough,” came the commanding voice of High Mage Levi as he stepped forward, his long robes brushing against the dirt. He surveyed the scene with an approving nod, his stern expression relaxing slightly. “Kael, you’ve proven your point. Kenshiro, remember that defeat is a lesson for improvement—it is not the end.”
Sitting on a nearby bench, a seven-year-old Aiden watched the sparring session with quiet intensity. Beside him sat Master Zanbutsa, Head of the Bushido Academy, his arms folded as his eyes glimmered with wisdom.
Kael turned toward Levi, his youthful arrogance clear as he tapped his bamboo sword against the ground. “Master Levi, when can I actually face someone good from the academy?”
Levi raised an eyebrow, his voice even. “We are limited to those Master Zanbutsa permits to come here.”
Kael’s expression soured. “Then is this the best the academy has? Surely it isn’t.”
Levi ignored the jab, instead turning his focus to Aiden. “Aiden, it’s your turn.”
Kenshiro dusted himself off, avoiding Kael’s gaze as he walked back toward the bench. Aiden rose smoothly, his movements precise as he made his way to the sparring ring.
Levi nodded as Aiden and Kael squared off, their bamboo swords raised and ready. “Both of you: clear your minds and let your actions speak. Begin!”
As the sound of clashing bamboo filled the air, Master Zanbutsa turned toward Kenshiro. His voice was calm but pointed. “I didn’t expect you to win, Kenshiro. Your Bushido is not yet fully unlocked. But what I did expect was confidence—and an unbreakable will. You let your status difference with the young king hold you back, and that is not the way of a samurai.”
Kenshiro’s hands tightened into fists as tears welled in his eyes. He turned toward Zanbutsa, his voice cracking with frustration. “But look at them!”
The two boys sparring moved with remarkable speed and precision, their bamboo swords meeting in a flurry of strikes that echoed like rhythmic drumbeats. Aiden countered Kael’s aggressive swings with measured parries, his footwork deliberate and calculated.
“They move with such agility... so quick.” Kenshiro’s voice faltered as he continued. “They’re only a few years older than me, but their power difference is enormous.”
Zanbutsa placed a firm hand on Kenshiro’s shoulder. “Come with me.”
The two walked away from the sparring ring, crossing a small hill until they came to a field of vibrant flowers stretching as far as the eye could see. The gentle rustle of the petals in the wind created a soft harmony, and for a moment, the world seemed still.
Zanbutsa gestured broadly toward the field, his voice thoughtful. “For the path of the samurai is not merely about strength of arm, but strength of mind and spirit. In your journey, you will face opponents who seem to tower over you, whose power appears insurmountable. But remember this: true victory often lies not in the clash of steel, but in the wisdom to avoid unnecessary conflict.”
Kenshiro’s eyes widened slightly as he listened, the beauty of the field somehow amplifying the weight of Zanbutsa’s words.
“The greatest samurai is not the one who wins every battle, but the one who avoids fighting battles altogether. Walking away before a fight begins is often the most profound victory of all. It shows mastery over ego and a deep understanding of the broader consequences of conflict.”
Zanbutsa knelt beside Kenshiro, meeting his gaze directly. “However, when conflict is unavoidable, know this: power alone does not determine the outcome. A samurai with a clear mind and pure heart can overcome any obstacle.”
Kenshiro remained silent, his young mind absorbing the wisdom like a sponge.
“Remember, Kenshiro,” Zanbutsa continued, lifting a single flower and holding it delicately, “that in combat, as in life, the oak that refuses to bend will break in the storm, while the bamboo survives. Be like the bamboo. Adapt. Flow. Use your opponent’s strength against them.”
For several moments, neither spoke. The wind carried Zanbutsa’s words, and Kenshiro felt something shift inside him—a realization of what his path as a samurai truly meant.
Finally, Zanbutsa rose and turned back toward the sparring ground. “Come, let us return.”
When they arrived, the sparring session had concluded. Aiden lay on the ground, his chest heaving as Kael stood over him with his bamboo sword pressed lightly against Aiden’s back.
Levi stepped forward, his voice calm but authoritative. “Well done, both of you. Your growth is evident.”
Master Zanbutsa gathered the three boys—Kael, Aiden, and Kenshiro—around him. His expression was grave as he spoke.
“You all have done well today. The future of the Samurai’s Will rests on your shoulders.”
He turned to Kenshiro. “You, Kenshiro, are the top swordsman of the academy. And you, Kael and Aiden, are High Mage Levi’s successors. Together, you three will carry the torch of the Samurai’s Will.”
A pause hung in the air before Zanbutsa continued, his voice heavy with significance. “But...”
The boys shifted slightly, sensing the weight of his words.
“I must admit, during my meditations, I have seen a troubling vision. A feeling that one of you will let the Samurai’s Will fall into shadow.”
Kael, Aiden, and Kenshiro exchanged glances, their expressions uncertain.
“I hope I am wrong,” Zanbutsa continued. “But in case I am not, let me leave you with this final lesson for the day.”
His gaze swept over the three boys, and his voice carried the wisdom of countless battles. “True victory comes not from raw strength or absolute power, but through patience, unity, and resolve. To pursue power above all else is to stand on the wrong side of victory—a side our masters sacrificed themselves to ensure we would never take. Reflect upon this.”
Zanbutsa’s final words hung in the air, a warning and a plea. “In the future, it may be two of you... against one.”
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