The Consequences of War

The battlefield lay silent, the chaos replaced by an eerie stillness. The ground was littered with the bodies of warriors and demons, some unmoving like lifeless dolls, others groaning in pain. The scent of blood and smoke lingered heavily in the air.

Ryuji lay sprawled on the ground, his body battered and broken, teetering on the edge of consciousness. His breathing was labored, each inhale a reminder of the wounds etched across his body. Not far from him, Rayas and Oniroshi stood facing each other, their figures marked with the deep gashes and bruises of their fierce battle.

Despite their mutual hatred, a silent understanding passed between them as they locked eyes. Both knew they could not continue in their current states. Oniroshi’s voice broke the silence, cold and defiant.

“Next time, Rayas,” he hissed, his tone promising vengeance, “you’ll be dead.”

Rayas smirked, though the expression barely concealed the pain etched on his face. “We’ll see about that. I’ll make sure you won’t even scratch me next time.”

Without another word, Oniroshi turned and began retreating. Rayas stood still for a moment longer, his smirk fading as he took in the devastation around him. With a faint scoff, he, too, vanished into the encroaching darkness.

The battlefield, once a cacophony of clashing steel and battle cries, began to settle into an uneasy quiet. But the consequences of the battle loomed large.

Kenjiro surveyed the remnants of Kurei-Kage’s warriors, his heart heavy. Some were writhing in pain, their cries piercing the silence. Others were tending to the wounded, their faces etched with desperation. And then there were those who would never rise again.

Kafiya Village – Eryndor

In a tent nestled within the heart of the village, Ryuji’s former teammates—Haruto, Akira, Yumi, Takeshi, Hana, and Sora—rested. Their bodies were wrapped in thick layers of bandages, the evidence of Rayas’ cruel torture still fresh on their faces.

Haruto shifted uncomfortably, wincing as he tried to sit up. “I’m glad... you’re all safe,” he muttered, his voice strained.

Sora chuckled, though his laughter was punctuated by a groan of pain. “Safe? You think that torture would kill me? Never! I’m a strong samurai; I don’t go down that easily.”

The others managed weak smiles, though the pain of their wounds kept their voices subdued. As the group exchanged quiet banter, the flap of the tent was pushed aside, and Wilson, the black-market seller dwarf, strode in.

“War’s over,” he announced, his tone gruff yet tinged with relief. “In the end, no one won. Both sides suffered heavy losses.”

Haruto frowned. “So, what do we do now? You said your tribe would start a war against the Demon Lord. Isn’t now the perfect time, since they’ve just returned from battle?”

Wilson laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What are you, an idiot?”

Haruto’s eyes narrowed. “Come again?”

Wilson crossed his arms, his expression stern. “Listen, young warrior. Do you think it’s that easy to attack and defeat the Demon Lord? It’s not, absolutely not. We must prepare. Take our time. And as for you lot, keep resting until you’re fully recovered. Then you can start your training again.”

His gaze swept over the group before he added, almost as an afterthought, “By the way, where’s that boy?”

“Ryuji?” Akira asked, her brows furrowing. “Have you met him before?”

Wilson nodded. “Of course! He’s the most powerful among you all, though a bit of a lost cause at times.” He chuckled but stopped when Haruto glared at him.

“If you’re done talking, let us rest,” Haruto grumbled.

Wilson shrugged. “Fine, fine. Rest up.” With that, he left the tent.

As silence settled once more, Yumi sighed. “I don’t understand why Ryuji joined the rebel group all of a sudden.”

Takeshi leaned back against a cushion, his eyes thoughtful. “Ryuji’s changed a lot. Even back then, I noticed something different about him.”

“I want to know everything,” Hana said, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Haruto sighed heavily, leaning against the edge of his cot. “Do you really want to hear it all now?”

The group nodded.

Haruto’s Recollection

“I first met Ryuji at the samurai academy,” Haruto began. “He was lonely, always keeping to himself. I asked Master Kenshin about him, and he told me Ryuji was a newbie. I decided to befriend him so he wouldn’t feel isolated. Over time, we grew close—sparring, competing, and pushing each other every day. The academy became more fun with him around.

“Then we were assigned to assist a new recruit named Mei. She was the extroverted type, becoming friends with us almost instantly. The three of us were inseparable—a perfect trio.“One day, we sat beneath a tree, and I asked Ryuji why he’d joined the academy. Mei told us she’d come from a poor village and wanted to support her family. I admitted I wanted to become strong and earn respect. And Ryuji... he said he wanted to find the demon who killed his father.”

Akira interrupted. “A demon killed his father, and yet he joined the samurai academy to work for the Demon Lord?”

Takeshi interjected, “Akira, humans kill humans in this world all the time. Different species hunt each other too. It’s survival.”

Haruto nodded. “Still, I was furious when Ryuji joined Kurei-Kage. Mei was killed by them—or so I believe. We clashed with them many times, and I can’t shake the feeling they were behind her death.”

Kurei-Kage Base

At the Kurei-Kage base, the wounded were carried to the medical room. Kenjiro brought a barely conscious Ryuji to Maria, a blonde-haired warrior with bright purple eyes.

Maria rushed to his side. “Is he wounded, Kenjiro-sama?”

Kenjiro nodded, gently placing Ryuji on a cushion. “Take care of him.”

Maria applied ointments to Ryuji’s wounds, marveling at how they were already healing on their own. “Rest well, warrior. You’ll be good as new in a few days.”

As Ryuji drifted into sleep, he found himself in a field of sunflowers, the sun shining warmly above. But the peaceful scene shifted as a dark fox appeared, its deadly aura suffocating. The sunflowers burned, and the sky turned crimson.

“Why?” the fox snarled. “Why am I trapped inside this boy?”

Ryuji woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. Maria leaned over him. “You okay? You’ve been asleep for a whole week.”

Before Ryuji could respond, Kenjiro entered. “Finally awake, Ryuji?”

Ryuji nodded. “How many warriors did we lose?”

Kenjiro’s expression darkened. “Over 300 dead, 150 wounded.”

Ryuji clenched his fists. “So many lives... lost.”

Kenjiro placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me. There’s something you need to know.”

Ryuji pushed himself up, wincing slightly from the dull ache still lingering in his muscles.

 “Where are we going?” he asked, his tone both curious and cautious.

Kenjiro glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Follow me.”

Without another word, Ryuji trailed after him, his footsteps echoing faintly through the dimly lit corridors of the Kurei-Kage base. The air felt heavy, as though the walls themselves were holding onto the weight of secrets long buried.

After a few twists and turns, they arrived at a modest room, its simplicity hiding the gravity of the scene inside. A man sat cross-legged on a cushion, his presence commanding and unyielding.

It was Oniroshi, the infamous Commander of Kurei-Kage. His aura was one of quiet power, a reminder that he was a force to be reckoned with.

Kenjiro stepped forward, bowing slightly. “Commander, I’ve brought Ryuji.”

Oniroshi looked up from his work, her crimson eyes locking onto Ryuji. A slow smile spread across his lips, a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “Kurogami boy,” he greeted, his voice as smooth as silk, yet sharp enough to cut. “Come and sit here.”

Kenjiro motioned for Ryuji to join him on the cushion directly across from Oniroshi. The young samurai hesitated for a moment before sitting down, his posture tense and his mind racing with questions.

Oniroshi leaned back slightly, studying him with a curious glint in his eyes. “How’ve you been, Kurogami boy?”

Ryuji straightened his back, forcing his voice to remain steady. “I am doing well, sir!”

The corner of Oniroshi’s lips twitched into a smirk. “‘Sir,’ huh? Just like your father, eh?”

Ryuji blinked, caught off guard. His heartbeat quickened as he stared at him. “You knew my father?”

“Oh yes,” Oniroshi replied, his smirk deepening. “I knew him very well.” He placed the quill he’d been using to sign letters down and folded his hands neatly in his lap. “And I know everything about you. From the day you were born to the moment your father took his last breath.”

His words struck Ryuji like a thunderclap. His eyes widened, and he leaned forward, disbelief and desperation etched into his features. “You... you know who killed my father?”

“Of course I know,” Oniroshi said casually, as if the weight of his revelation was nothing more than an afterthought. His smirk never wavered as he added, “Do you want to know? About him? About who your father truly was? What your father was? And... about what happened eighteen years ago?”

The air in the room felt as though it had been sucked out, leaving only the suffocating tension between them. Ryuji’s hands clenched into fists as he forced himself to speak. “I want to know. I want to know everything about my father!”

Oniroshi’s smirk turned into a full smile, though it carried an unsettling edge. “Then let’s begin,” he said, his voice dripping with intrigue.

The chapter ends with his words lingering in the air, a harbinger of the truths that were about to be unraveled.