Chapter 11 — Commander

The rain had not yet dried when Okubo Dorayama came.

The tyrant of Kyoto towered over the corpses of his men, cleaver in hand, his scarred face twisted into a grin. He looked at Kohaku—armor drenched in blood, visor glowing red—and laughed.

“Impressive. You’re wasted among peasants and beggars. Join me. Rule with me. Why kneel with the weak when you can rise above their suffering?”

Kohaku raised his katana, his voice heavy through the mask.

“I have no interest in ruling on corpses. Anyone who builds power on the suffering of others… is already dead.”

Dorayama’s grin faltered. “…So be it.”

Steel clashed.

The cleaver roared down with monstrous strength, shaking the street, but Kohaku met it head-on. Sparks burst as rain hissed against their blades. Eva, watching from the shadows, folded her arms.

“…Which one of them… is worth recruiting?”

The fight was brutal. Dorayama swung like a beast, each strike strong enough to split stone. But Kohaku moved like a phantom—precise, unrelenting. His katana carved twin arcs, slashing Dorayama’s right arm, then his left. The warlord howled.

Kohaku stepped in close.

SHHRRAK!

With one clean motion, Dorayama’s head fell, his massive body crashing to the ground.

Eva smirked faintly. “…So. I’ve found him.”

By morning, Kyoto’s streets were silent.

The Hunters were gone—cut down in a single night. Survivors emerged from hiding, staring in disbelief. Chains broken. Doors forced open. Those taken as slaves stumbled into the light, gaunt and trembling. Families wept over the dead. Children, scarred by cruelty, clutched the hands of parents who had nothing left to give.

And in the center of it all, stood Kohaku—the man who had slain them all. Some survivors looked with awe. Others with terror. None knew whether he was their savior… or another monster.

Nagumo, shaken but resolute, returned to his workshop. Sakura worked beside him, her hands trembling yet determined. Kohaku, Agnes, and Rika helped rebuild, lifting beams, hammering frames. For once, the masked revenant looked like just another laborer.

Until Eva appeared.

She approached with her usual poise, but when she stopped before Kohaku, she lowered her gaze slightly. “What you did last night… was beyond belief. Join me. With your strength, the liberation forces could change everything.”

Kohaku paused, setting down his hammer. “…No.”

Eva’s eyes narrowed. “Do you understand what you’re refusing? Humanity is on the brink, and you—”

“I don’t fight for militaries. I don’t fight for politics. I fight because I choose to.” His voice was sharp, final.

But Eva pressed harder. “With someone like you, we can win wars in months, not decades!”

Before Kohaku could reply, footsteps approached. A soldier in tattered uniform leaned close to Eva, whispering urgently.

Her golden eyes widened. “…Are you certain, Kenta?”

The man nodded grimly.

Eva clenched her fists. “Damn it… the report is true. A Type-5 Soul Beast has wiped out an entire battalion.”

Rika looked alarmed. “A Type-5…? Where?”

Eva’s voice was heavy. “Korea. We’ve lost Seoul. We had no choice but to retreat.”

The hammer slipped from Kohaku’s hand, clattering to the ground. For a moment, the mask hid his face, but his silence spoke louder than words.

Finally, he said: “…Then I’ll go. But under conditions.”

Eva raised a brow. “Name them.”

“First, I choose my own team—Rika, Agnes, and you.” His visor glowed as he looked at Eva. “Second, when this is over… I’m done. No more armies. No more orders. I’ll live in peace. A farm. A quiet life.”

Eva studied him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “Agreed.”

Days later, Nagumo completed his work. Agnes’s systems were fully upgraded—her sensors could now detect enemies across great distances, and her combat protocols had been enhanced.

With repairs done, they boarded a ship at dawn. The survivors of Kyoto watched them leave, whispering of the masked revenant who had freed their city in a single night.

On the deck, Kohaku stood alone, visor reflecting the rising sun. His hand tightened around his katana.

In his mind, an image surfaced—the Wraith’s shadow, the countless screams, and now… the Type-5 Beast waiting in Korea.

His jaw clenched.

“…This isn’t over.”

The ship sailed east, toward another battlefield.