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The room emptied as the mbers of the Four Families bowed and made a quiet exit, their expressions carefully neutral. No one dared question Blake’s authority, but he could sense their lingering unease.
As soon as the door closed, the tension lifted slightly.
"You really like making people sweat, don’t you, my King?"
Ena let out a dramatic sigh, her lips curling into a playful pout as she turned toward Blake.
He smirked. "People respect confidence, Ena. And if they’re hiding sothing, pressure makes it easier to spot."
But then his gaze fell on the long, cloth-wrapped object slung over her back. The bundle was nearly as tall as she was, and sothing about it felt... off.
"What’s that you’re carrying?" he asked, his voice turning serious.
Ena shifted, glancing over her shoulder. "This? My grandfather gave it to . He said it would lead you to the Netherworld."
Her tone was uncertain, as if she wasn’t entirely sure what that ant.
She carefully unwrapped the cloth, and the mont the blade was exposed, the air in the room turned heavy. A dark, suffocating aura poured out from the sword, filling the space with sothing almost... alive.
Blake’s eyes narrowed.
The energy coming from it was chaotic, unnatural—like a trapped storm waiting to be unleashed. He recognized it instantly.
This wasn’t just any weapon.
It was Ama-no-Murakumo, the legendary blade of Susanoo himself.
Ena wobbled slightly, her face turning pale as the sword’s presence dug into her. At just twelve years old, she had no way of resisting the madness woven into its steel.
Before she could collapse, Blake placed a firm hand on her shoulder. A steady pulse of his energy flowed into her, shielding her from the sword’s influence.
At the sa ti, he exerted his will over the blade.
The oppressive energy lashed out in protest, but Blake didn’t flinch. His power pressed down like an immovable force, forcing the sword into submission.
The eerie hum of the blade wavered, then stilled.
But then—sothing shifted.
The black aura from Ama-no-Murakumo suddenly condensed beneath Blake’s feet. A swirling vortex ford, and before he could move, the ground beneath him twisted into a dark void.
Under normal circumstances, he would have broken free easily. But he had a feeling this was no ordinary trap.
Instead of resisting, he t Ena’s wide, panicked eyes and gave her a reassuring nod.
Then, the darkness swallowed him whole.
The vortex collapsed instantly, vanishing as if it had never been there.
Ena stood frozen, gripping the now-dormant sword tightly. The silence in the room was deafening.
"My King... please be safe," she whispered.
Alone in the empty suite, she dropped to her knees and began a quiet prayer.
---
The Storm and the Blade
A weightless sensation.
Then, the sharp pull of gravity.
Blake opened his eyes.
He was standing in the middle of a dense mountain forest.
The scent of damp earth filled his lungs. The wind howled through the towering trees, their branches swaying violently under the force of the storm.
A small stream cut through the landscape, its waters disturbed by the relentless downpour.
Blake’s gaze shifted.
Through the mist, partially hidden among the trees, stood a small wooden house.
Traditional. Isolated. Old.
It looked like sothing out of another ti, untouched by modern life.
Without hesitation, Blake walked toward it, his steps soundless against the wet ground.
He reached the entrance and pushed the door open.
The wooden panels groaned softly.
Inside, a single figure sat before a traditional irori hearth.
An old man.
His posture was relaxed, but the air around him was thick with authority.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he radiated strength despite his age. His rough kimono hung loosely over a fra of hardened muscle, a body that had seen battle and survived.
Blake didn’t need an introduction. He already knew who this was.
"So, you’ve finally arrived."
The old man’s voice was deep, calm—but there was an edge to it.
"Took you long enough. Seems that little girl of mine is still too inexperienced. Or perhaps... you are too reckless."
Blake t his gaze without hesitation.
"Using a child to do your dirty work?" he said, his voice asured. "Not exactly sothing to be proud of."
The old man exhaled slowly, as if unimpressed. "This is a family matter. You have no business interfering."
Blake’s expression didn’t change.
"Hah. Ena is my squire knight. If you think that ans you can do whatever you want with her, then you are the one who doesn’t understand the situation."
The old man’s eyes darkened slightly. For the first ti, his composure wavered.
"She swore loyalty to you?"
Blake tilted his head slightly, watching the reaction. "Surprised? Or just disappointed?"
Silence.
The flas crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows along the wooden walls. The weight of the conversation settled between them, thick and unspoken.
The old man finally sighed, as if shaking off whatever emotion had montarily surfaced.
"Let’s set that aside for now. Co in and sit," he said, his tone even.
Blake let out a low chuckle, stepping further inside at a slow, deliberate pace.
"You thought you could intimidate ," he murmured, shaking his head. "How disappointing."
The storm outside raged on, but inside, the real battle had just begun.
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