Chapter 37 – Kurogane, the Military Bastion

At dawn on the third day after Yura’s speech, the snow of Yukihana trembled beneath the march of war.

The first forces of the resistance had arrived at Kurogane—the most powerful military stronghold in the kingdom.

At the front, Ren rode with his eyes locked on the darkened walls of the citadel. Around him marched ten thousand revolutionary soldiers, banners snapping in the freezing wind: a sky-blue sakura blossom—the crest of House Aseina—shone proudly on every flag.

The thunder of war drums echoed across the valleys. Snow, once pure, now seemed stained by the weight of the coming battle.

From the central tower, a great bell rang out like metallic thunder, rousing the fortress from slumber. Its toll carried through every last street of Kurogane.

High above, General Seiryu Kurogane stood on the battlements. His face was carved from stone, hardened by decades of discipline. The scouts’ reports left no room for doubt: the rebels had come, standing at his walls, challenging his army.

“Summon every available soldier!” he roared, his voice cutting through the bell’s clamor. “Every man to his station, now!”

The barracks burst open. Warriors in armor surged forth at a run—shields raised, lances gleaming, archers stringing bows with deadly precision.

The bastion of Yukihana was awakening.

Ren reined in his horse amid the snow and dismounted, calm yet solemn. Before him, thousands of enemy soldiers poured from the fortress like a river of steel.

“Soldiers!” His voice boomed like a roar. “Everything we’ve fought for these past three years… will be decided here and now!”

He raised Versalles high toward the heavens.

“It’s an honor to fight by your side!”

A thunderous cheer rose to answer him. Men and women of Yukihana—hardened by years of resistance—lifted their weapons, tears shining in their eyes.

“With honor, until the end!”

Ren drew the divine blade. Versalles ignited in blazing fire, flames swirling around his figure like a storm. He was the first to charge.

The revolutionaries followed, crying “Freedom!” with every step that shook the snow.

From atop the wall, Seiryu Kurogane watched with reptilian eyes. Like a dragon in its tower, he waited, dissecting every movement.

“Archers,” he ordered coolly.

Bowstrings twanged, unleashing a black rain of arrows that fell upon the vanguard.

But the arrows shattered against a translucent shield of ice, cloaking the revolutionary army.

Seiryu’s brow furrowed.

“Defensive magic…? Since when did they learn that?”

“Lancers, advance!” he bellowed, arm outstretched.

“We’ll wear them down first… then I’ll send in the samurai. This victory will be mine.”

Ren lifted his sword toward the sky, heat radiating across the air.

“Formation Beta!”

The revolutionary samurai regrouped behind him, forming a flawless diamond.

The blazing aura of Versalles expanded, washing over his soldiers in warm light.

“Sunlight! Reinforcement of the Army!”

The hero’s fire surged through their ranks. Their bodies grew lighter, muscles stronger, spirits unbreakable.

With a roar that shook the walls, Yukihana’s soldiers clashed against the enemy lancers like an unstoppable flood.

Seiryu stood stunned, eyes fixed on that brilliant radiance.

“Power of the sun…” he muttered, his face hardening. “Only one blessed by Lumina… or her descendants, the Solar Paladins, could wield that light.”

His eyes narrowed, realization dawning at last.

“So we’ve found the traitor hero.”

He raised his voice, filled with fury.

“Send in the samurai—now! Don’t let them breach the walls!”

Without another word, Seiryu drew his katana and leapt from the top of the tower. His black armor slammed into the snow with a heavy crash, sending up a cloud of white.

Across from him, Ren stopped. The clamor of battle faded from his ears. Time itself seemed to freeze—two predators locking eyes, neither willing to give an inch.

“At last, we meet face-to-face… Hero of Solmara,” Seiryu said, tightening his grip.

Ren smirked, as if he’d just heard a private joke.

“So, you must be the general of this place.”

They stood motionless, the air thick with unbearable tension.

“I wonder how much the Shogun will pay me for your head…” Seiryu laughed. “You’ve been far too much of a nuisance, you know?”

“I’m flattered,” Ren replied, letting Versalles dissolve from his hand.

Seiryu’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“What are you doing? You’re not going to fight?”

In its place, Ren summoned a simpler blade of frozen steel, and assumed a solemn stance.

“A samurai deserves a dignified death—whether he’s a general or a mere pawn.”

Seiryu’s eyes narrowed. His fury softened into calm respect.

“I see… you want to end this war with a duel. Then at least allow me to know your name before I claim it.”

Ren inclined his head slightly.

“My name is Ren Sinclair. A pleasure.”

He shifted into an iaidō stance. Snow swirled at his feet.

Seiryu’s eyes flickered in surprise.

“That stance…!”

Ren’s gaze sharpened.

“That’s right. The style of the Aseina.”

A blast of icy wind marked the beginning of their clash.

Seiryu moved first, his katana glowing with a blue sheen.

“Kurogane Style… Steel Wall!”

He struck with such force the snow rose like a crashing wave.

Ren unsheathed in a single motion, his blade flashing with incandescent light.

“Aseina Style… Hidden Slash!”

The collision split the air apart; the clash of frozen steel sent shockwaves through the nearby soldiers.

Seiryu Kurogane pressed forward, eyes burning with ferocity. Their blades crashed again and again, sparks of fire and ice scattering with every strike.

“Not bad for a brat…” the general growled. “But how can you wield ice without being a Yuki?”

“That’s a long story…” Ren shot back, lunging once more.

“Aseina Technique… Triple Death!”

Two phantom copies of Ren burst from the snow, rushing with ghostly speed.

“Ice Sickle!”

A storm of icicles rained down, skewering the clones. Ren dodged most, but shards pierced his shoulder and thigh. Pain forced a gasp from his lips.

His breathing grew heavy. Every use of that power was draining him.

“What’s wrong?” Seiryu mocked. “Weren’t you the talkative one a moment ago?”

Silently, Ren reached into his pocket and drew the mask of Opera.

“Sorry… I never did get used to the cold.”

As he placed it over his face, his form changed. Phantom’s spectral silhouette unfolded, and a deathly chill swept across the battlefield.

Seiryu felt the blood in his veins turn to ice. It was as if Death itself had descended.

“Ahh… much better,” Ren exhaled, his voice hollow from behind the mask.

The general staggered back a step, disbelief etched on his face.

“W-what in the world are you…? No one can wield the powers of the sun, the ice, and death all at once!”

Ren raised his katana once more, taking up the Aseina stance.

“My name is Phantom. I am the bitter winter… the lotus of death.”

Desperate, Kurogane raised his hands and began chaining incantations.

“Begone, demon! Ice Barrier! Magical Resist! Enchant Ice Barrier! Superior Dome! Great Strong Defense!”

One barrier after another rose around him—domes of reinforced ice shining with magical light.

Ren lowered his blade slowly, whispering under his breath:

“It’s useless… I just hope this katana can endure.”

Phantom unsheathed with an absolute cut. A freezing gust—like the very breath of death—followed its arc.

“Dimensional Slash… Silent Winter!”

The world stopped. Even the soldiers felt a chill so deep it paralyzed their bodies. Time itself seemed frozen… until Ren slid the blade back into its sheath with a sharp tack.

Silence shattered with a single gasp.

“Impo…ssible…” Kurogane stammered, before splitting in two.

His body was sealed in a block of ice, shattering apart like a broken statue.

The victory belonged to Phantom.

But in that same instant, Ren’s katana disintegrated in his hand, unable to withstand the force of the Dimensional Slash.

He tore off the mask and spat blood onto the snow, collapsing to his knees.

“Damn it… I overdid it again,” he muttered, his breath ragged.

The revolutionary soldiers stared in awe, unable to grasp the magnitude of what they had just witnessed.

With the last of his strength, Ren summoned Versalles, raised it high, and roared:

“The battle is over! Kurogane is ours!”

His cry thundered across the fortress, and the revolutionaries erupted in cheers that shook the very walls. The Shogun’s soldiers, hearts broken by their general’s fall, let their weapons drop one by one. Steel clattered against the snow, the sound of surrender echoing through the field.

The military bastion of Yukihana had fallen. Ren had won the battle. But the war was far from over.

Elsewhere, other fronts were already in motion.

—Yura, commanding twenty thousand soldiers, marched toward the capital, Kita-no-Kyō, where Shogun Tsukihara awaited with fifty thousand men.

—Luisina, accompanied by Latina and eight thousand fighters, advanced into the forests of Aokami, determined to spark rebellion in the land of the wandering clans.

The fate of Yukihana would be decided in three simultaneous battles.

The revolution had begun its final move.