Part I: Return, Haganezuka, and First Assignment
The mist returned.
Not with thunder, but with stillness.
Kaito blinked—and the rooftop of the orphanage dissolved. The scent of concrete vanished, replaced by pine, smoke, and the distant roar of waterfalls.
He was back.
And time hadn't moved.
The Thunder Estate stood exactly as he'd left it. The sky was the same shade. The wind carried the same rhythm.
His master hadn't aged a day.
"Kaito?" the old man called from the veranda. "You just stepped out for rice—what took you so long?"
Kaito bowed. "Got delayed."
The master grunted. "Well, you're just in time. Your sword's ready. Haganezuka sent word."
Kaito nodded and set off toward the Swordsmith Village.
The forge compound was alive with heat and hammering. Inside, Haganezuka stood masked and irritable.
"You're late," he snapped.
"I came as soon as I could," Kaito replied.
Haganezuka shoved a cloth bundle into his hands. "Draw it."
Kaito unsheathed the blade.
It shimmered.
Then changed.
The steel turned deep obsidian, with silver lightning veins running along the edge.
Haganezuka froze.
"Thunder breathing," he muttered. "But that's… not normal."
Kaito said nothing.
Gravemark pulsed quietly in his spine.
Weapon attuned. Gravemark-compatible.
But he didn't speak of it.
Not to Haganezuka.
Not to his master.
The system was his alone.
Moments later, a crow landed on the windowsill.
"Assignment: Western Ridge. Demon activity confirmed. Two slayers missing. Investigate and eliminate."
Kaito bowed.
Haganezuka handed him a sheath and a maintenance kit.
"Don't break it," he growled. "Or I'll break you."
Kaito turned toward the ridge.
The hunt was about to begin.
Part II: Preparing to Leave
Back at the Thunder Estate, Kaito packed quickly.
He wore his standard uniform—black with silver trim—and tied his hair back. His blade rested across his back, perfectly balanced. The sheath had been reinforced with a weighted core, matching Gravemark's rhythm.
He packed dried meat, bandages, a whetstone, and a scroll of demon profiles. His master watched from the doorway, arms crossed.
"Western Ridge," the old man said. "That's deep forest. Rocky terrain. Good place to test your footing."
Kaito nodded. "I'll be careful."
The master tossed him a pouch. "Smoke pellets. Use them if you need to escape or blind something fast."
Kaito caught it. "Thanks."
The old man stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't just survive," he said. "Dominate."
Kaito bowed.
Then turned toward the path.
The crow circled once overhead, then flew west.
Kaito followed.
His breath was steady.
His stance was grounded.
And Gravemark pulsed like a silent drum.
Part III: Travel and Demon Tracks
The journey to Western Ridge took two days.
Kaito moved swiftly, resting only when necessary. He passed through quiet villages, crossed rivers, and climbed steep trails. The terrain grew harsher—loose stone, thick roots, and fog that clung to the ground like smoke.
On the third morning, he reached the ridge.
It was silent.
Too silent.
No birds. No wind. Just the rustle of leaves and the distant drip of water.
Kaito crouched near a broken tree.
Claw marks.
Deep. Jagged. Fresh.
He moved forward, scanning the ground.
Blood.
Not much—but enough to mark a trail.
He followed it.
Then found the remains of a slayer's haori—torn, stained, and half-buried beneath moss.
Kaito's grip tightened.
The demon was close.
He slowed his breathing.
Activated Anchor Step.
His feet locked to the terrain.
Gravemark pulsed.
The hunt had begun.
And this time, he wasn't just fast.
He was immovable.