Chapter 22 : The Devil walks with shadows

The fortress lay silent under the moonless sky, towering like a forgotten god etched into the earth. The wind howled through the stone spires, but inside the war chamber, the air was still—unnaturally still, like the world itself was holding its breath.

The scent of cold steel, wax, and old blood soaked the room. At the center stood a vast circular table, carved from black stone and veined with silver markings—battle paths, enemy names, and red flags scattered like fallen leaves after a storm. A dozen brass figures marked enemy locations. One in particular—etched with the name Mikuya—stood on the far edge, untouched… but not unseen.

Lord Kurogami leaned forward, his gloved hand tracing the path toward that single mark. His crimson eyes glinted in the dim candlelight. His long cloak swept the floor behind him like a serpent stalking prey.

The chamber doors groaned open.

"My Lord, the scouts have returned," a soldier announced. He bowed low, voice trembling slightly despite years of training.

"Let them in."

Three cloaked figures entered, kneeling without a word. They placed a scroll before him. Kurogami unraveled it slowly, reading every word in silence.

Mikuya and Sora. Alive. Escaped the shrine. Headed northeast. Two others joined them.

His eyes narrowed.

"They just don’t know when to die, do they?"

The room fell silent again. Then, he spoke, voice low and laced with venom:

"Send word to the barracks. Triple formation squads. No more playing tag with blades. I want the terrain swept clean—trees, rivers, hills. Burn it if you must. I want them hunted."

The guards nodded, about to turn.

"But this time…" Kurogami stood tall, voice rising like thunder, "…I ride with you."

The entire room froze.

"My Lord?" one dared to ask. "You mean… you will lead the operation personally?"

Kurogami walked toward the edge of the table, the click of his boots echoing like war drums. His voice turned guttural, primal.

"This isn’t a mission anymore. It’s a message. I’ve watched long enough from the shadows. Played puppeteer from afar. But now…" His eyes flared like burning coals. "Now it’s time to play the real game—with my toys."

He picked up the figurine marked Mikuya, holding it between two fingers as if it were a mere insect.

"Especially her."

He tightened his grip.

"I will break her. Tear her limb from limb. Rip the fire from her soul and scatter her hope like ash in the wind. I’ll make her watch as her world collapses, as everything she holds dear bleeds out at her feet."

He dropped the figurine.

It shattered.

"And that boy, Sora… I’ll make sure his screams echo across the trees for days before silence claims him. Death won’t be a mercy—it’ll be a privilege he won’t get easily."

He turned back to the table and slammed his fist down, causing all the brass pieces to jump.

"They wanted war. They’ll get me."

The shadows in the room thickened, as if the darkness itself bowed to him. The torches flickered wildly. Even the guards stepped back instinctively, their knees quivering beneath their armor.

"Ready the Shadow Riders," he growled. "I want movement before dawn. I want silence. I want speed. I want fear."

He swept his cloak behind him and walked toward the massive iron doors.

“And when Mikuya sees me…”

He paused, glancing back one last time, eyes glowing with pure malice.

“…she’ll finally understand what it means to be hunted by the devil himself.”

The doors slammed shut behind him.

And so, the devil descended from his throne—not to watch, not to whisper…

…but to hunt.