The world of swordsmanship is ho to countless styles. A quick internet search can lead you to the dojo of most any school.
With enough grit, one could even enroll and begin to master its techniques.
But so sword arts are not so easily reached.
There are legendary sword styles, passed down through the annals of Japanese history, known as the Seven Secret Swords. Divine techniques, godlike skills, masterful arts.
So are so outlandish that their very existence is doubted.
In the Kemurishima family, there is a sword style passed down from a single master to a single heir.
Its na is the Assassin's Blade of Smoke, one of the legendary Seven Secret Swords. Its secret technique, Phantom Edge, has beco the subject of nurous anecdotes due to its extraordinary power.
“On the appointed day, I will choose my successor. All of you, strive to be worthy.”
One day, the grand master and head of the Kemurishima family made his proclamation. He would na the next heir to the Blade of Smoke.
There were nine candidates—all nine of his sons. The eldest was thirty-five; the youngest, eighteen.
On the night of the succession ceremony, Kuro Kemurishima was chosen. He was the youngest of the nine brothers.
“A true genius with the sword. Kuro. I na you as my successor. You are now an Expert. From this day forward, I will drill into you the techniques passed down from father to son. The days will be harsh and painful. Are you prepared?”
Six years later, at the age of twenty-four, Kuro cut down his father, took the man’s sword from his hands, and vanished.
His brothers were desperate to pursue him, but their father, who had miraculously survived, stopped them.
“He has already surpassed . Took down in just three strikes. His martial rank: Master. A realm only a handful ever reach. And now, the Great Demon Blade is in his hands. Even if you all attack him at once, you cannot win. If you value your lives, do not engage him.”
Thus, the next monster was born… and he was given many titles.
The newest of these was “Kuro of the Demon Sword.”
* * *
“Master Kemurishima. I have a ssage from Lady Tomoshigawa… She says you may return.”
“‘Co protect .’ So I ca. ‘I don’t need you anymore. Go ho.’ Is that it?”
The man delivering Suzuri’s ssage turned pale and took a step back. A sharp ache lanced through his stomach, and he desperately wanted to flee.
“Well, no matter. I suppose Kurenagi handled things.”
“Th-that’s right! The Church’s lackeys are dead. And the ‘Avenger,’ too.”
“The ‘Avenger’… Ikaku Akamuro, was it? For a man with no mana, he caused a great deal of damage. I wanted to cut him down myself… A sha. I’m leaving. Give Suzuri my regards.”
“I-I’ll see you out!”
Kuro got into the car driven by his aide and left the Sakura District at Processing Center.
A few hours later, he returned. He had received a ssage.
By the ti he arrived, the at processing center was already a sea of fire.
Cars were burning, and grueso, dismbered bodies were scattered everywhere.
“Oh?”
A small smile played on Kuro’s lips as he cheerfully stepped over the corpses and made his way toward the underground facility.
Just then, a man erged, walking with a steady gait.
He was tall, at least 190 centiters. Black hair, black eyes. He wore a black coat, a white shirt, a black tie, and black slacks.
He carried a rifle in his hands and was laden with a great deal of equipnt around his waist. He was covered in blood and dust and appeared to be seriously wounded.
The large man—Ikaku Akamuro—slowly turned his gaze and saw Kuro.
“You’re Ikaku Akamuro?”
“I am.”
“You admit it so easily.”
Kuro quietly drew his sword. The red flas of the burning cars reflected off the polished white blade.
“Do you know who I am, Ikaku Akamuro?”
“Kuro Kemurishima of the Ember Creed… also known as Kuro of the Demon Sword. Am I right?”
“Saves the trouble of explaining. Then let’s begin.”
Kuro tosses his scabbard aside.
He’s in a good mood. A wish that had gone unfulfilled just a few hours ago had now been granted in such a surprising fashion. He couldn’t be happier.
How much fun will you be, Ikaku Akamuro?
He takes a step forward. His blade descends with the falling weight of his body.
Ikaku presses his battle rifle horizontally against his chest and fires.
Kuro, caught off guard by the sudden shot from a weapon that wasn’t even shouldered, is forced to react.
He alters the trajectory of his slash, deflecting the bullet.
Sparks fly, and flas scatter.
Ikaku’s eyes widen in response.
Two shots, three, four—Ikaku fires as he retreats.
Kuro deflects them all, closes the distance, and thrusts his sword forward with all his might.
Ikaku bats the flat of the blade aside with the muzzle of his rifle, deflecting the tip, then tries to buckle Kuro’s knees with an axe kick.
Kuro loses his balance, stumbling backward, but manages to stay on his feet.
Tch, what a guy!
Ikaku switches to full-auto and opens fire. This is a far cry from the single shots before.
Kuro retreats, weaving his body left and right to dodge. Deflecting a machine gun’s rapid fire is, as expected, impossible.
Ikaku empties his magazine in two seconds.
“Wait!”
Kuro shouts just as Ikaku starts to reload without a mont’s hesitation.
Ikaku pauses, giving him a quizzical look.
“You have a background in martial arts. And not just a passing familiarity.”
“…”
“I felt it just now, in that exchange. Your art. Which ans this is a battle between martial artists. Am I right?”
Ikaku resus his reload, finishes it, and firmly slaps the magazine into place before answering.
“You are.”
“I see you as a disciple of one of the martial artists who were there. Who is your master?”
“Most of the martial artists you’re referring to are my masters. But if I had to na one, it would be Alek of the Zero Force.”
“Interesting. I never would have expected such a twist of fate.”
Kuro strokes his chin, looking utterly delighted.
“The world calls it the ‘Demon Night.’ The night the Akai Clan fell. I was there, too. My goal is to devour other martial artists and ascend to even greater heights.
Aleksandr Bogdanov, the heretic of the Chinese martial arts world and an undeniable legend, was also my target. But sadly, in the midst of our battle, the man lost his mind. He beca a Demon.”
Kuro sighs, a look of boredom on his face.
“It takes ti to master a Demon’s power. There was nothing to be gained from defeating soone who was just being thrown around by their new strength.
But look at this. Now his disciple appears. This is a developnt tailor-made for . Ikaku Akamuro. I will grant you a martial artist’s death. Let us fight to our hearts’ content.”
His sword swings horizontally. A thick smoke billows from the hilt.
In an instant, the blade’s appearance changes. It’s as if the steel blade was a re facade, peeling away to reveal a sinister form hidden beneath.
The blackened, charred blade is etched with branching grooves of incandescent lava, like molten rock flowing down a mountain range.
The red heat pulses, throbbing like a living thing. Its evil is so palpable that a single glance is enough to know it is no ordinary sword.
“Assassin’s Blade of Smoke, Master rank. Kuro Kemurishima. Let’s begin.”
Ikaku cracks his neck and takes a small, deep breath.
He drops the SCAR-H at his feet.
“Eightfold Soulfist, Grand Master rank. Ikaku Akamuro.”
Kuro’s eyebrow twitches.
Grand Master… he says?
The martial arts proficiency index has only four ranks: Novice, Adept, Expert, and Master.
A realm beyond that, an apex of martial arts said to be unattainable even through endless training, is provisionally called Grand Master… but reaching it, and being recognized as having reached it, is suprely difficult.
Because no one knows what the realm of a Grand Master is, nor can they speak of it.
Grand Master is a domain one strives for, not one that can be reached. And yet…
“To claim such a transcendent rank. Have you grown arrogant?”
“Test . I was the pride of Alek of the Zero Force.”
Ikaku lowers his hips, slowly spreading his feet into a wide stance.
The smoke pouring from Kuro’s sword intensifies, instantly enveloping the area in a thick fog.
Ikaku squints, trying to catch a glimpse of a shadow moving within the smoke.
He can’t see anything. He can’t even sense any movent.
A voice echoes from all around him.
“I was going to play with you a little longer, but I’ve changed my mind. There is no martial truth to be gained from a fool so lost in his own delusions.”
Ikaku strains his ears.
Is it from the right? From the left?
He can’t pinpoint the direction.
There is a prerequisite for learning the secret technique, Phantom Edge—the ultimate predictive ability, True Initiative.
True Initiative is the power to thwart an enemy’s action before they even move. It is the pinnacle of predicting movent.
And by applying that prediction, you can increase the accuracy of your feints.
When you can make your opponent believe you’ve struck with the re atmosphere of a slash, it is complete.
Phantom Edge can be used in many ways, but the most lethal is the combination of a phantom strike and a real strike.
By launching both simultaneously, you create an unavoidable attack that is impossible to counter.
It is impossible to deal with this secret sword on the first encounter.
The demon sword, wreathed in smoke, is raised high.
This ti, I’ll use Ashbrand too.
The blade amplifies Phantom Edge—feeds it. Smoke coils out in shifting sheets, thick and alive, wrapping the battlefield in a prison of illusions. Inside it, I vanish completely. Not even my shadow remains.
But ? I see everything. The edge of a sleeve. The flick of a fingertip. Every twitch shines through the haze like a spotlight.
And that’s not all. I can show them things—make them see things—whenever I please. Hallucinations woven into smoke. That makes Phantom Edge feel real. Too real.
Like this—
Kuro activates Phantom Edge.
By imbuing the magical smoke with his presence, he projects a dense, illusory vision of himself cutting Ikaku down from behind—a signal that he can kill him at any mont.
The secret technique of the Assassin’s Blade of Smoke: Phantom Edge.
Two phantom Kuros attack.
One distracts with a phantom slash, while the other delivers a real one to the neck.
In this “false future,” Ikaku dodges the phantom slash, then blocks the real one with his arm and counters.
Kuro falls, unable to move.
Ikaku has won the battle, though at the cost of one arm.
But Kuro stops in his tracks.
Was that my imagination…? It felt like he just countered .
He simulates it again with the illusory vision.
He attacks. This ti, Ikaku doesn’t even react to the phantom slash, only to the real one, which he counters.
His fist sinks deep into Kuro’s abdon.
Again, Kuro falls, and Ikaku remains standing.
He tries a third ti. This ti, before he can even slash, his wrist is grabbed and crushed, and he takes a kick to the groin. Then he’s stomped on.
He hasn’t even had a chance to swing his sword.
Kuro is defeated, and Ikaku is standing.
Impossible… He’s adapting. Fast.
No way. Has he seen through it already? Is he seeing the sa false future I am?
His predictive ability is on par with True Initiative. And his presence manipulation? Off the charts. Clean, controlled, and precise.
But the level of skill… How could he match when I wield Ashbrand…?
“Hey. How long are you going to play around?”
“!”
Inside the prison of smoke, Ikaku stands with his eyes closed, his voice low and solemn.
“How can you see through Phantom Edge?! And to be my equal without a demon sword…! That is the secret art of my school! It’s supposed to be a technique passed down from father to son!”
“Phantom Edge? I don’t know that technique. But if you’re talking about Phantom, then calling it a secret art is laughable. That’s a general-purpose technique. A mundane skill found in any school.”
“Tch, you bastard! You mock ?!”
“Hmph. There you are.”
Ikaku moves.
Damn it, I let my guard down… Was that his aim?! You cunning little shit!
The distance is a re three steps.
Ikaku closes it, preparing to land a blow with a Flowing strike.
But thanks to this magical smoke, I have a complete grasp of your movents! Your range, your breathing, your footwork—there! I’ve got you!
He counters with a downward slash faster than Ikaku’s strike can land, cutting him down diagonally.
Fresh blood erupts, and the large body collapses in a pool of red. His innards spill out, and the pool of blood widens.
Kuro’s breathing is ragged. He wipes away a cold sweat, trembling with elation.
That solid feeling! I cut him to the marrow! He provoked , used the sa techniques against —he was an unprecedented foe! But I overca him! An unavoidable trial! I’ve leveled up beyond asure!
At the peak of his ecstasy, however, Kuro notices sothing amiss.
Behind him. Very close.
There’s a presence.
“...What?!”
Kuro whips around in a panic. But he’s too late.
Thud!
He feels the imnse impact of a Seismic Kick. A staggering weight.
Inside the prison of dense smoke, Ikaku is now in the posture to deliver a Surge strike.
The secret technique of the Ikaku Style Eightfold Soulfist: Cannon Strike.
The impact is unprecedented. Stronger than any blow Kuro has ever taken—no, it’s beyond the realm of a re strike.
It’s less fist, and more cannon.
“Dwagh?!”
He’s unable to block it.
Kuro flies through the air and lands with a wet splat. The sword slips from his hand.
The smoke begins to clear. Ikaku slowly opens his eyes.
“Gah… Why? I cut you. I felt it.”
I can’t… get up. This feeling. I see. This is the end… My body is shutting down…
“Two things.”
“...Two?”
Ikaku holds up one finger.
“To show your enemy an illusion, you have to see it first. Not out there—in here. You need to carve that vision into yourself. Without mastering True Initiative, there’s no planting futures in anyone’s head.
You’ve used it like a lifeline, haven’t you? Refined it, fought with it, won with it. I can tell. Your accuracy’s no joke.
When it cos to prediction, you probably outclass .”
“…”
“That was your mistake. You used your finely honed foresight against the false future I fed you.
True Initiative’s a hell of a technique. Predict the flow, tilt the odds, make the right calls. Nothing wrong with the logic.
But it’s not flawless. It’s got a blind spot. And that blind spot is Phantom.
The very move you’ve mastered—that’s its natural enemy. Makes sense, doesn’t it? The pinnacle of deception, built to crack the pinnacle of prediction.
This ti, you leaned too hard on it… and paid the price.”
As his throat fills with blood, Kuro rembers the succession ceremony with his father. That sweet mont of victory, when he had turned his father’s own predictive ability against him.
...I’m a damn fool. Beaten by the sa logic I used to take down my old man.
I thought I was chasing strength. Truth is, I was cherry-picking fights… only stepping into the ring with opponents I could read through True Initiative.
The second I went up against soone who could match my predictions, throw feints just as sharp, soone who could break through my Hazy Blade... I shattered like brittle glass.
It ca apart so fast, I started doubting my own sword style.
Ikaku holds up a second finger.
"The other thing is, you tested too much. Phantom Edge, right? You threw it at three tis. That was enough. I got used to it.
The real slash riding the shadow of the phantom—that’s your kill shot, isn’t it? I’ve got sothing similar, so I get it.
If you’d gone all in from the start, maybe this fight would’ve turned out different."
“Hmph. The outco… might have been different? Are you trying to console ?”
“…”
“You’re a terrible liar… You saw through it from the very beginning…”
Kuro holds up a finger. “How was I… Was I strong?”
“You weren’t bad.”
“...Haha. I see. Not bad, huh? If a Grand Master says so… then that’s more than enough…”
The swordsman’s eyes remain open as he stops moving.
Ikaku lets out a small sigh. His gaze falls on the sword lying near Kuro.
Co to think of it, that smoke was coming from this…
With that thought, he picks up the sword.
The mont he does, the scenery around him completely changes.
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