Chapter 9: Not The End

Kian slowed his pace, katana blazing at his side, fire licking along the steel. His gaze locked on the leader, his voice low but sharp.

“You’re mine.”

The battlefield roared around them, but between the two men there was silence. Chaos raged in the village, yet here it was narrowed to fire and water — a duel that would decide everything.

The bandit leader’s eyes narrowed, grip tightening on his hilt. Water flowed steadily along his blade, dripping and hissing as it touched the scorched earth.

“Then come,” he muttered.

They charged.

Slash! Clash! Slash!

Steel rang out, sparks and steam bursting as flame met tide. Each strike echoed like thunder, drowning out the cries of battle around them.

The leader’s hits were heavier, each blow carrying crushing weight. Every clash left Kian’s arms trembling, the force seeping into his bones.

He’s strong… his strikes are getting harder every time. It’s like water persistently hitting me until I break. He’s like Daichi… but slower. Only more muscular than Daichi.

Kian’s katana blazed brighter, his movements sharpening. His sword moved faster, faster still — each clash ringing louder, the rhythm accelerating. He no longer advanced or retreated; he stood rooted in place, channeling everything into speed, his blade a blur of fire.

Clash! Clash! Clash!

The leader faltered, eyes widening. What is happening? His moves… they’re getting faster. I need to finish this early.

He backed up, water surging around his blade, gathering for a massive strike. His stance shifted, muscles coiling, preparing to unleash everything in one blow.

Kian’s eyes glowed with fire. He inhaled deeply — Hhhhhhsshhhhh — the sound sharp in the silence. He bent low, left leg sliding back, right leg forward, katana angled in the classic stance of a lightning‑fast slash.

The leader roared, charging. His blade cut through the air, water spiraling, the strike so fast it reached Kian’s neck in an instant.

But before steel could touch flesh—

SHHHHHKTTTT!

Kian’s katana blazed, his strike unleashed in a flash of fire. His blade met the leader’s sword mid‑swing — and cut straight through it.

The bandit leader froze, disbelief etched across his face. His weapon shattered, fragments falling as steam hissed around them.

Kian was ready to finish him — katana blazing, eyes burning with fire — but then a voice rang out:

“Don’t finish him. We need to interrogate.”

Kian’s grip tightened. Without hesitation, he shifted, katana flashing downward. SHHHKTTT! His blade sliced across the bandit leader’s heels, severing his escape.

The man collapsed to his knees, shock etched across his face. His breath came ragged, disbelief drowning him more than the pain. He had been defeated — utterly.

Kian lowered his katana, eyes locked on the fallen leader. The duel was over.

Around them, the bandits froze. Their leader, the pillar of their strength, was kneeling in defeat. Panic rippled through their ranks.

Some dropped their weapons and fled into the burning village streets, vanishing into the smoke. Others were caught, dragged down by Gerald’s men, their cries swallowed by the chaos.

The battlefield shifted. What had been a storm of fire and water was now silence, broken only by fleeing footsteps and the crackle of flames.

The battle had ended. Squad soldiers came forward and bound the bandit leader tightly with metal chains, the clinking echoing against the scorched ground.

Kian followed as they dragged him toward the squad quarters. The village had defended, had survived. Victory cries began to rise — a war‑cry of triumph.

But as they marched, villagers lined the streets, their voices sharp and bitter:

“Hah! They should kill you!”

“Why is he still alive?”

The bandit leader heard every murmur. His head hung low, but his eyes flickered with unease.

Then — in the middle of the road — a man in a black robe appeared. Hood drawn, face hidden in shadow. Silent. Watching.

The bandit leader froze, his body stiffening. His eyes widened in terror. He stared at the hooded figure as if struck by lightning.

Kian caught a glimpse of the man, his brow furrowing. Who is this? I’ve never seen him before…

Suddenly, the bandit leader clutched his head, dropping to a crouch, his voice breaking:

“Get out of my head…!”

Villagers murmured, mocking:

“Has this man gone insane for losing? Hah, what a pity.”

But then his voice rose, wild, desperate:

“I have not lost yet… no, no, no, no! This is not the end!”

Kian bent to his knees, hand tightening on his katana’s hilt, eyes narrowing.

The leader’s eyes turned blood‑red. Chains snapped like twigs. His body bulked, taller, nails lengthening into claws. His muscles swelled, his form twisting into something monstrous.

With a sudden roar, he lashed out — WHAMMM! — his kick slammed into Kian’s chest.

He’s faster… stronger… what is this transformation? Kian thought as his body was hurled through the air.

CRASHHH! THUDDD!

He smashed through walls, splintering wood and stone, tearing through three houses before skidding to a halt inside the orphanage. Dust and debris rained down around him.

Meanwhile, the transformed bandit leader — now a beast — turned on the squad soldiers. His claws ripped through armor, his roar shaking the village.

Villagers screamed, chaos erupting:

“Run for your lives!”

“The monster is on a rampage!”

“Help! Someone help!”

The war‑cry of victory had turned into a cry of terror.