The war raged for days. Samurai clashed steel against steel, stabbing, slashing, cutting throats in the mud soaked with blood. Warriors who once stood side-by-side in the days of Yami Hibuko now butchered one another with the same swords their ancestors forged.
Amidst the distant screams, Kaoru Hibuko sat deep inside his palace, untouched by the chaos.
"Let the Takeda and Taira die," he said coldly, exhaling a slow breath. "Their rebellion will not go unnoticed. Teach those idiots what it means to rise against the Hibuko."
Outside his palace walls, the echoes were relentless—swords clashing, bodies collapsing, desperate cries swallowed by smoke and fire. And throughout Emka, a single question haunted every heart:
"When will we ever be saved…?"
The palace doors suddenly opened. A man rushed in, falling to his knees with his forehead pressed against the floor.
"What's the matter?" Kaoru asked without moving from his throne, his voice heavy and kingly.
"Your Majesty," the man said, trembling, "we need more reinforcements."
Kaoru's lips curled into a grin.
"Summon the three great clans," he said calmly, almost amused. "Immediately."
"Yes, my lord!" The messenger rose and sprinted out.
Within minutes, riders mounted their horses, messengers dashed through fields and burning villages, and the remaining three great samurai clans received the urgent order:
Kaoru Hibuko has summoned you to the castle. Come at once.
One by one, each clan abandoned everything and began their march toward the Hibuko stronghold, where Kaoru waited—smiling in the shadows of his throne.