A grimace of pure frustration twisted Rael's features as he mentally cataloged the profound weaknesses of his new form. This body is still a child. I can't manifest a fraction of my true strength yet, the consciousness of General Saturu seethed, a warrior's mighty spirit shackled within soft, youthful flesh. The phantom weight of a greatsword was a constant, mocking presence at his side. Yet, the memory of his skill, the centuries of honed swordsmanship etched into his very soul, remained. This was his anchor, his most immediate and reliable weapon in this gilded cage. His thoughts, however, drifted ceaselessly to the other power, the Divine Authority whispered to him in the void between death and rebirth. Is it the same as the spiritual manifestation these clansmen practice? A refined form of energy manipulation? The question was a dangerous puzzle. To wield such cosmic power without this fragile vessel tearing itself apart would require a brutal, focused regimen. He needed to build a spiritual reservoir vast enough to contain an ocean. The grand mysteries of the centuries he had lost, the fate of the war, the truth behind the betrayal—all of it had to wait, secondary to a single, tangible, and immediate need. The first thing I need is a sword. A real one.
His path through the opulent, silent hallways was deliberate, leading him toward the estate's library, a potential trove of knowledge on spiritual smithing or forgotten clan histories that might hint at what he had become. But as he turned a corner, his elder stepbrother, Kaon, materialized to block his path, a smirk playing on his lips. "Rael," Kaon said, the name dripping with false, condescending warmth. "Lord Kaito wishes to assess your… progress. He demands your presence at the training grounds. Now." Saturu's instincts, older than the stones of the estate itself, screamed a warning. Yet, he saw a sliver of opportunity within the obvious trap—a chance to observe the fabled Plum Blossom sword style up close, to understand the enemy's foundation. With a curt, silent nod, he followed, his small frame a study in contained tension.
The training ground was a basin of palpable hostility. The air, usually filled with the sounds of practice, was preternaturally still. Kaon, without ceremony, kicked a basic, poorly balanced practice sword toward him, the wood skittering across the dirt. It was an insult. From the edge of the grounds, a maid—Lin—dared to step forward, her face a mask of genuine concern. "Young Master Kaon, I beg you, reconsider! Rael is still a child! He cannot possibly engage in a serious spar!" Kaon's head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing into venomous slits. His voice dropped to a lethal whisper, meant only for her. "If you insist on speaking out of turn, you will be replaced. Permanently. Or perhaps something far worse will befall your family. Know. Your. Place." The threat hung in the air, cold and final. Lin recoiled, her face paling as she fell into a terrified silence, her body trembling.
Rael ignored the exchange, his focus absolute. He saw his chance. This was not a spar; it was a sanctioned execution, but also a live demonstration of the clan's core techniques. "Ready or not, disgrace," Kaon sneered, and launched himself forward. But the attack was not the measured, testing strike of a sibling. It was a killing blow, a vicious thrust aimed at his throat, fueled by a hatred that went far beyond simple rivalry. Rael's battle-honed instincts screamed in alarm. The body's own fragmented memories surfaced in a dizzying rush: this family had tried to kill the boy before, his life saved only by the fleeting intervention of a kind-hearted swordsman. Only his mother, Elara, had shown him kindness, before her own mysterious and abrupt departure from the estate.
Understanding his physical disadvantage, Rael abandoned any notion of meeting strength with strength. One solid hit from Kaon would shatter his bones. Instead, he became pure motion, a blur of evasion, his small size and speed his only allies. He flowed around Kaon's furious onslaught, a leaf on a violent wind. Then, from the shadows of the surrounding pillars, other figures emerged—hard-eyed clansmen, their intent clear. They were Lord Kaito's clean-up crew, sent to ensure the "disgrace" was permanently erased. Trapped and outnumbered, Rael's calculus changed. He stopped evading and attacked. He leapt forward, his speed now translating to the cheap practice sword in his hand. His movements were not those of a child; they were precise, economical, and brutally efficient. He didn't swing with power; he cut with precision, striking wrists, knees, and disarming joints. The ambushers cried out, stumbling back in shock, their weapons clattering to the ground.
Enraged by this humiliation, Kaon let out a guttural roar and charged again, this time aiming to simply overpower the smaller boy with pure, brute force. Their blades met with a concussive CRACK that split the practice sword in Rael's hand and sent a shockwave through the ground, fracturing the packed earth beneath their feet. The killing intent radiating from Kaon was a physical pressure, undeniable and murderous. Pushing back against the larger boy's weight, a technique from a forgotten life, a memory of a thousand battlefields, surfaced within Saturu. He used the broken shard of his sword to execute a sweeping, upward slash that caught Kaon across the back, sending him and the remaining attackers stumbling away, a deep, bleeding gash now marring Kaon's fine training robes.
But then, the very air in the training ground twisted. A foul, familiar darkness erupted from the wound on Kaon's back, a energy that felt like rotting souls and ancient hatred. His body contorted, spine arching at an impossible angle. Two extra, spectral arms of solidified shadow sprouted from his sides, each one clutching a blade of rippling darkness. The boy's face was gone, replaced by a mask of demonic rage.
"GIVE ME YOUR SOUL! GIVE US YOUR POWER!" the possessed Kaon rasped, its voice a dual-layered horror.
Shock rooted Rael to the spot for a single, perilous second. This possession... it releases the same vile killing intent as the Grand Oni. This was no mere family intrigue. This was a direct tether to the ancient war he had died fighting. The vile energy he had only sensed in Kaon before had now fully manifested, a cancer at the heart of the Plum Blossom clan. The time for hiding, for observation, was over.
He screamed as a shadowy blade nicked his arm, the searing pain not of steel, but of spiritual corruption. It was the catalyst. Something deep within him, the Divine Authority granted at the waterfall, detonated in response. A torrential, purple-blue aura exploded outwards from his small body, a visible shockwave of raw power. The energy was immense, chaotic, and his body could not contain it. Under the violent influx of power, his form mutated, bones lengthening, muscles knitting and expanding, stretching his skin and robes. In moments, the six-year-old boy was gone, replaced by a youth of twelve, his new frame already straining at the seams of his clothes. He knew he had only moments before the energy either overwhelmed him or drew the attention of something far worse from within the estate.
Thinking quickly, he used a fraction of the raging power to create a dozen shimmering illusions of himself. They swarmed the possessed Kaon, a host of blue-tinged phantoms. "DIE! ALL OF YOU!" the demonic entity roared, swatting the illusions aside with sweeps of its shadow blades, shattering them into motes of light. But in that single instant of distraction, the real Rael had already retreated, his new speed carrying him to the edge of the nearby ornamental lake. His hand closed around the hilt of an old, rusted sword, discarded near a guard post, its metal pitted and dull.
He fell into a deep, grounding stance, the world narrowing to a single point: the corrupted thing that had been his stepbrother. He drew a breath, and the chaotic energy within him stilled, focused. His eyes snapped open, no longer human, but marked with a glowing, vivid 'X' that burned with purifying light.
"Divine Authority: Spirit Clearance," he intoned, his new, deeper voice resonating with command.
The water of the lake did not ripple or splash. It evaporated in a single, deafening hiss, a thick, impenetrable mist instantly swallowing the entire training ground. Through the haze, a single, perfect slash cut—a horizontal line of incandescent violet light that moved faster than sight. It did not cut through the air, but through the very essence of the possession, severing the tether of dark energy.
When the mist collapsed, falling back as a shower of clean, cold rain, Rael stood behind Kaon's collapsed form. The spectral arms were gone. The dark energy dissolved into shrieking wisps of black smoke that writhed and faded into nothingness. Kaon lay on the soaked ground, unconscious, pallid, and breathing in shallow, ragged gasps, the bleeding gash on his back now the only mark upon him.
A profound, ringing silence returned, deeper and more ominous than before. The maid, Lin, stared from her hiding place, her hands clamped over her mouth, her entire world view shattered by the display of otherworldly power. The boy was gone, replaced by a youth who radiated an immense, terrifying presence.
The now-grown Rael walked toward her, his footsteps making no sound on the churned, wet earth. He stopped before her, looking down from his new height, his X-marked eyes seeing straight through her fear. "I will not end you," he stated, his voice calm yet absolute, layered with an authority that was ancient and unforgiving. "Unless you swear your loyalty to me, and me alone." He paused, the intensity of his gaze pinning her in place. "Thank you for your concern earlier."
Lin could not form words. Her voice was a prisoner in her throat. She could only nod, a sharp, frantic, and terrified motion, her entire body trembling uncontrollably. A new and terrifying allegiance had been sworn not in a grand hall with oaths and seals, but in the shadow of the lake, sealed by the sight of a demon's purge and a boy's terrifying transformation into an avenger. She had seen the true, rotting face of the estate's darkness, and she had witnessed the terrifying power of the one who had cleansed it with a single, divine slash.