Taro and Kenji moved cautiously through the underbrush, the towering trees around them blotting out most of the sunlight. Shadows flickered across their path, the cool forest air still and silent save for the occasional rustle of leaves beneath their boots. Taro, crouched low and moving like a predator, motioned for Kenji to follow his lead. Kenji mirrored his movements awkwardly, struggling to keep his balance as twigs cracked beneath his feet. He cringed every time, glancing nervously at Taro, who shot him a withering glare but said nothing.
After a few minutes of creeping forward, Taro stopped suddenly, holding up a hand. Kenji nearly stumbled into him but managed to stop himself just in time. Taro turned, leaning in close and whispering sharply.
"You're stomping around like a drunk ox, kid. Raiders might be idiots, but if you keep that up, they’ll hear us coming a mile away."
Kenji frowned but nodded, adjusting his steps to match Taro's more fluid movements. They continued, Taro pausing every so often to point out tracks or broken branches. "See this?" he whispered, gesturing to a faint footprint in the dirt. "Heavy step. They're not worried about being followed. Probably means they’ve got lookouts somewhere, but they’re lazy about it. Overconfidence makes them sloppy. Good for us."
Kenji nodded again, trying to absorb everything Taro was saying. He had never thought about tracking before, let alone trying to be sneaky. His mind raced, replaying every blunder he'd made while sneaking up on Taro earlier that day.
It had been humiliating, to say the least. Taro had spent nearly half an hour berating and correcting Kenji’s "stealth" skills, which were about as effective as a bull in a china shop. By the end, Kenji could at least move quietly enough not to alert the entire forest, but Taro’s disappointed expression made it clear he wasn’t winning any awards for subtlety.
"You’re not hopeless," Taro had muttered after one of Kenji's better attempts. "But don’t expect me to trust you with anything sneaky just yet. Stick to following orders and leave the planning to me."
Now, as they crept closer to the raider camp, Kenji focused on following Taro's lead. His heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and determination driving him forward. He didn’t want to mess this up—not after everything that had happened.
After nearly an hour of cautious tracking, Taro stopped again, this time pointing ahead. Kenji followed his gaze and saw faint wisps of smoke rising through the trees. The raider camp. His stomach tightened as he realized how close they were.
Taro crouched low, motioning for Kenji to do the same. "Stay quiet," he whispered. "We’re just scouting for now. No heroics, no fighting, got it?"
Kenji nodded, swallowing hard. "Got it."
They inched forward, staying behind cover as they approached the edge of the camp. The sight that met them was both intimidating and chaotic. Crude tents and ramshackle wooden structures dotted the clearing, with raiders milling about in small groups. A central fire pit crackled, the flames licking at the sky, and a couple of men sat sharpening weapons nearby. Others appeared to be sorting through stolen supplies—barrels of grain, crates of goods, and even a pile of crude weapons stacked haphazardly.
Taro grabbed Kenji’s shoulder and pulled him down behind a thick bush. "Look at everything. Take it in. You don’t just watch for people—you watch for patterns, routines, weaknesses." His voice was low and measured, like he was giving a lesson to a new recruit. "How many of them are there? How do they move? Are there guards? What’s the layout of the camp?"
Kenji squinted, trying to focus on what Taro was saying instead of the overwhelming sight before him. He noticed a few raiders patrolling the perimeter, their movements sluggish and bored. A pair of dogs lay near one of the tents, dozing in the sun. A crude fence surrounded part of the camp, but it looked like it had been hastily built and poorly maintained.
"See the gaps in the fence?" Taro pointed. "That’s an entry point. They’re lazy, not expecting anyone to come at them. But the dogs—those are a problem. They’ll smell us before we get close."
Kenji nodded, his mind racing as he tried to absorb everything. "What do we do about the dogs?"
Taro glanced at him, a faint smirk on his face. "That’s what scouting’s for, kid. You figure out the obstacles, then you plan around them."
He continued pointing out key details—the storage tents, the weapons pile, the central fire pit that seemed to be the hub of activity. "We’ll need to cause a distraction if we want to get to the supplies. Something to pull their attention away from us long enough to slip in and grab what we can."
Kenji frowned. "What kind of distraction?"
Taro shrugged. "Depends. Fires work well, but they’re risky. We could bait the dogs to the other side of the camp, make some noise to draw the patrols away. Lot of options, but none of them easy."
Kenji nodded again, his jaw tightening. He hated how helpless he felt, but he also knew he had to trust Taro’s experience. The man had clearly done this before, and Kenji needed to learn everything he could if they had any chance of succeeding.
Taro leaned back, scanning the camp one last time. "Alright," he said quietly. "We’ve got enough for now. Let’s pull back and come up with a plan. No sense rushing in without a solid idea of what we’re doing."
Kenji hesitated, his gaze lingering on the supplies stacked near the fire pit. He could almost feel the weight of the villagers' desperation pressing down on him. But he knew Taro was right. They couldn’t afford to make mistakes.
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Taro crouched low by the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the thick canopy above, his rough hands drawing lines in the dirt to illustrate their plan. Kenji knelt across from him, his brow furrowed, eyes fixed on the makeshift diagram. The tension between them was palpable, the weight of the coming fight pressing heavily on the air.
Taro glanced up, his dark eyes sharp as he studied Kenji’s face. “Before we go any further, I need to know something,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Do you intend to kill them? The raiders, I mean. Do you think that’s the way to stop this?”
Kenji froze, the question striking him like a hammer. He looked at Taro, then down at his hands, scarred and calloused from years of farm work but now trembling faintly at the thought of what they might be asked to do. "I... I don’t know," he admitted. "I just know they can’t keep doing this. Someone has to stop them."
Taro nodded grimly. “And what happens if we just sneak out some of their food? Or knock a few of them out and leave the rest alive? What do you think they’ll do when they wake up and realize what’s happened?”
Kenji hesitated. He didn’t need Taro to answer for him—he already knew. The raiders wouldn’t just take it lying down. They’d lash out, and the villagers would pay the price. His stomach churned at the thought of the men, women, and children he'd seen barely clinging to life being slaughtered because of a plan that wasn’t thought through.
“They’ll come back,” Kenji said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “And they’ll make the villagers suffer even more.”
Taro’s silence was heavy with agreement. He didn’t sugarcoat it. “If we’re going to stop them, really stop them, there may not be another option but to...” He trailed off, letting the weight of the words hang in the air.
Kenji’s jaw tightened, his mind flashing back to the raid on the village. The screams, the fire, the blood—all of it rushing back to him in vivid detail. He clenched his fists, his body trembling with a mix of fear and rage. "Is death really the only way?" he asked softly, his voice cracking slightly.
Taro sighed, his expression softening as he looked at the boy. “Maybe there’s another way,” he said. “But we don’t have the time to figure it out, Kenji. We don’t have the people. It’s just you and me out here. And those raiders—they won’t show us mercy.”
Kenji swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. After a long moment of silence, he lifted his gaze to meet Taro’s. “Then we put an end to them,” he said firmly, his voice steadier now. “They can’t keep doing this. Not to these people. Not to anyone.”
Taro’s shoulders sagged slightly, and for the first time, Kenji saw something other than the gruff soldier in the man’s expression. There was sadness there, and maybe even regret. “Alright,” Taro said quietly. “We’ll put an end to it.”
He straightened up and motioned to the dirt diagram he’d drawn. “Here’s the plan,” he began, his voice returning to its usual calm, measured tone. “We’ll use the shadows to our advantage. Hit them fast and hard before they know what’s happening. The element of surprise is our biggest weapon. The quieter we are, the better.”
Taro pointed to a section of the camp’s layout. “We’ll start with the lookouts on the perimeter. Take them out one by one, silently. Every one of them we can eliminate before the main fight starts increases our chances of success.”
Kenji nodded, his throat dry. “And once the fighting starts?” he asked.
“Once the fighting starts,” Taro said grimly, “it’s all or nothing. It’ll come down to whether we can take the lot of them before they take us. But you have something they don’t.”
He gestured to Kenji’s hand, his eyes narrowing. “The talent. That void bolt of yours—it’ll give us an edge when things get loud. But only use it when the fight’s already on. The sound and the flash will give away your position, and stealth is our lifeline until then.”
Kenji looked at his hand, flexing his fingers as if he could feel the strange energy pulsing beneath his skin. He nodded again, his resolve hardening. "Got it," he said.
Taro clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Stay sharp, kid. We’ll move once it’s dark enough. Until then, get your head right. This isn’t going to be pretty.”
Kenji nodded silently, his mind already racing. He wasn’t ready for this—how could anyone be? But he knew one thing for sure. He couldn’t let the raiders win. Not again.
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Kenji and Taro moved silently through the dense underbrush, the shadows of the forest swallowing their forms as they neared the edge of the raiders’ camp. The faint glow of firelight flickered ahead, casting long, jagged shadows over the forest floor. The low murmur of voices reached them, mixing with the crackle of flames and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.
Taro crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter. He gestured for Kenji to stop as he spotted a raider standing a few feet away from the main camp. The man was leaning lazily against a tree, his weapon—a crude sword—resting in the dirt beside him.
Taro turned to Kenji, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is it. First guard. If we take him out quietly, the rest won’t even know we’re here."
Kenji’s throat tightened, and he hesitated, his hand gripping the broken katana at his side. The memory of the village raid surged back into his mind—the blood, the screams, the glassy stares of the dead. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow.
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Taro noticed the hesitation and leaned closer, his voice calm and understanding. "Look, kid. You don’t have to do this. You can just hang back and watch. I’ll handle it."
Kenji glanced at him, his expression conflicted. He lowered his eyes, staring at the ground as the weight of the moment pressed down on him. For a second, he thought about stepping back, letting Taro handle it. But then he remembered why he was here. He’d made this decision. He couldn’t turn back now.
Straightening his shoulders, Kenji met Taro’s gaze. “No,” he whispered firmly. “It was my decision to do this, I can't leave you to do it alone. I’m going through with it.”
Taro studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes softening. The kid was scared—that much was obvious. He knew Kenji was aware there was a chance of death. But behind the fear, there was something else. Something Taro had noticed before but hadn’t been able to place. There was steel in Kenji, a quiet grit that was rare for someone so young. He wasn’t a soldier, not yet, but he had the makings of one. Not the kind forged in fire through years of training, but the kind that took to it naturally, as if it were ingrained in their very soul.
He had watched many soldiers come and go either by death or retirement like Taro himself. Among the greater ones he had always noticed a pattern. Removing the personalities of the men, they all shared one common trait. A determination and will power that transcended fear and pain. A fury based upon whatever set of principles they held to that allowed them past the limits most men stopped at. Looking at Kenji, he felt a sense of respect and worry. These men very rarely made it long, usually martyring themself for a cause or purpose or ending their lives under the guilt
The youthful naivety was still there, of course—Kenji’s belief that the world could always be better, that people could change, that doing the right thing would somehow matter in the grand scheme of things. Taro almost pitied him for it. But he couldn’t deny the potential he saw. Given enough time and experience, the boy could most likely excel in a role as a solider.
Pushing the thought aside, Taro nodded and gestured toward the guard. “Alright. Follow my lead.”
They moved with purpose now, Taro guiding Kenji through the plan in hushed whispers. He picked up a stone and tossed it into the brush several feet away, the sound of rustling leaves drawing the raider’s attention. The man grunted, straightening up and peering into the darkness.
“Oi! Who’s there?” he called out, his hand moving to his weapon as he took a cautious step forward.
Kenji’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched Taro nod at him and slip silently around the other side of the tree. Following the plan, Kenji stepped into the moonlight, just enough for the raider to see his outline. He let out a shaky breath, his voice low and trembling. “Help me,” he croaked, trying to sound lost and scared which was not hard as he pretty scared.
The raider’s brow furrowed, and he took another step closer, suspicion etched across his face. “What the hell are you doing out here, kid?” he asked, his voice gruff.
Kenji took a step back, feigning fear, drawing the man further away from the campfire’s glow. The raider followed, his guard lowering slightly as he grew more curious than cautious. Just a few more steps, Kenji thought, his grip tightening on the broken katana.
Then, in an instant, Taro was behind the raider, his movements swift and silent as a shadow. With one fluid motion, he wrapped an arm around the man’s neck and plunged a dagger into his side. The raider let out a choked gasp, his body stiffening before crumpling to the ground.
Kenji stepped forward, his eyes locking on the raider’s lifeless form. Blood pooled around the body, staining the dirt beneath it. The man’s glassy eyes stared up at nothing, unseeing. Kenji’s stomach churned, and he quickly looked away, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He couldn’t afford to break down now. There would be time later, but not now.
He motioned to Taro, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “Let’s keep going.”
Taro studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded, wiping his blade clean on the raider’s tunic. “Alright,” he said quietly. “One down. Let’s move.”
They stepped back into the shadows, the faint sounds of the campfire ahead their only guide. Kenji’s hands were shaking, but he tightened his grip on the katana, forcing himself to focus. He couldn’t think about the blood or the eyes or the body. Not now. Not yet. There was still work to do.
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Taro and Kenji moved through the outskirts of the camp like shadows, each step carefully calculated to avoid detection. Taro led the way, his movements fluid and confident, his experience as a soldier evident in the way he scoped out each target before striking. Kenji followed close behind, mimicking Taro’s movements as best he could, though his steps occasionally faltered with hesitation. Their pattern quickly emerged—Taro would identify the next target and signal Kenji to flank, the two of them converging on their prey with precision.
It wasn’t flawless; Kenji stumbled once on a loose branch, and another time he accidentally kicked a discarded tin cup that clattered noisily on the ground. But Taro’s sharp instincts and quick thinking covered for their mistakes, dispatching the guards before the noise could alert anyone deeper in the camp.
By the time they had taken down six men, Kenji’s breathing was labored, his hands slick with sweat and blood. Each kill had taken a toll on him, the weight of what he was doing pressing down like a leaden burden. Yet, with each strike, he felt himself growing more in tune with Taro’s rhythm, their teamwork becoming smoother.
Taro had given him quick pointers along the way, whispering advice on how to move quietly, how to hold the blade to minimize sound, and where to strike for the quickest kill. Kenji tried to absorb it all, trying to make his movements becoming less clumsy and more deliberate with each encounter. The air around them grew heavier with the smell of blood and sweat, the tension mounting as they approached the perimeter wall. They paused briefly behind a stack of crates, exchanging a glance. Taro gave a small nod, and Kenji swallowed hard, steeling himself as they prepared to breach the camp’s inner defenses. There was no turning back now.
Taro and Kenji crept along the perimeter of the camp, their footsteps silent on the soft forest floor. The crude barricade of logs and trees loomed ahead, with a small opening barely wide enough to crawl through. Taro crouched down, signaling Kenji to follow. The older man went first, slipping through the gap with practiced ease, his form barely making a sound. Kenji hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding as he cast a glance back into the shadows of the forest. Then, gritting his teeth, he followed.
Taro and Kenji crouched low, the flickering firelight casting eerie shadows across the forest floor. The tents ahead loomed like specters in the darkness, their canvas walls sagging with age and neglect. A faint murmur of voices and the occasional clink of metal drifted toward them, betraying the presence of the raiders. Taro motioned with two fingers, signaling Kenji to follow closely. The seasoned soldier’s movements were deliberate, silent, and precise—an obvious product of years in the field. Kenji tried to emulate him but felt clumsy by comparison, each step an effort not to snap a twig or disturb the underbrush.
Taro’s hand shot up, halting Kenji in his tracks. Ahead, a figure stirred near the edge of a tent, silhouetted by the faint orange glow of the campfire. The raider lazily scratched his head, his other hand gripping a rusted sword that looked more like a club than a blade. Taro leaned in close to Kenji, his breath barely a whisper. “We take him out quietly. You’re with me on this.”
Kenji nodded, clutching his broken katana tightly. His heart pounded in his chest, the memories of the village raid flashing in his mind. He felt the weight of this decision pressing down on him, but he shoved the thought aside. There was no time for doubt. Taro crept forward, his steps as light as the wind, while Kenji followed, his breath catching with every shuffle of his boots. The raider turned slightly, and for a moment, Kenji thought they’d been spotted, but the man settled back into his half-relaxed stance.
With practiced precision, Taro lunged, his blade cutting through the air and into the raider’s neck before the man could even make a sound. Kenji’s stomach churned as the blood sprayed across the forest floor, the gurgling sound of the dying man filling his ears. He’d seen death before, but not like this—not up close, not so final. Taro pushed the body aside and waved Kenji forward.
The second raider was seated nearby, sharpening a jagged piece of metal that might have once been a machete. Taro motioned for Kenji to take the lead this time. Swallowing his fear, Kenji crept closer, his broken katana trembling in his grip. He raised it high, aiming for the man’s exposed back. But at the last second, the raider shifted, sensing something. Kenji hesitated—a split second too long.
The raider turned, his eyes widening in shock as Kenji brought the blade down. It struck hard, slicing into the man’s shoulder, but not deeply enough to incapacitate him. The raider howled in pain, his cry echoing through the camp. Taro cursed under his breath and finished the job, his blade slicing cleanly across the raider’s throat.
The sound of footsteps and shouting erupted from the surrounding tents. “Get ready,” Taro barked, spinning to face the direction of the noise. “They’re coming."
Kenji’s hands trembled as he wiped the blood off on his already tattered shirt. His breathing came in shallow gasps as panic over the reality of the incoming fight threatened to overwhelm him. Taro clapped a hand on his shoulder, jolting him back to the present.
“Focus, kid,” Taro said firmly, his eyes scanning the approaching lights. “The sneaky part’s over. Now it’s time to fight.”
Kenji nodded, his jaw tightening as he gripped the broken katana. The memories of the last battle surged in his mind, but he shoved them aside. This wasn’t the time to falter. His knuckles turned white around the hilt of the weapon as he took a deep breath, centering himself.
“Stay close to me,” Taro said, his voice lowering as the first raiders came into view. “They know we are here but not where, so can use the shadows for as long as we can, but when they reach us...you fight. No hesitation. No mercy. We cannot let their numbers add up before we take them down. And be ready to use your talent too.”
Kenji nodded again, swallowing hard as he stepped into position beside Taro. The flickering torches grew brighter, and the sound of raiders shouting to one another filled the air. There was no time left to think or doubt.
The first raider stepped into the tent cautiously, his blade drawn, scanning the shadows. Taro and Kenji, hidden in the darkness just outside, shared a silent nod. The moment the man moved deeper inside, Kenji sprung into action, clumsily but decisively stabbing toward the raider's back. The man barely had time to gasp before Taro followed up, his blade slicing clean through the raider’s throat. As the first man crumpled, two others rushed in, shouting warnings. Taro and Kenji leapt to meet them, the element of surprise slipping away as the battle erupted in earnest.
Chaos unfolded. Kenji struck wildly, adrenaline surging through his veins as he managed to bring one raider down with a thrust to the side. Taro, his movements measured and practiced, dispatched another with a single clean cut. But the noise drew more attention, and soon four more men stormed in, their weapons gleaming in the dim firelight. Taro barked an order, “Keep moving! Don’t stand still!” Kenji obeyed, darting between tents and shadows as the men closed in, firing a Void Bolt that caught one raider in the chest. The man screamed, his armor corroding as the bolt ate away at him. Kenji noticed a strange sensation this time—the Void Bolt felt slightly less taxing, the draining sensation slightly more muted compared to before.
The two of them fought ferociously, Taro cutting through the opposition with brutal efficiency while Kenji relied on a combination of Taro’s earlier tips and sheer determination to stay alive. Void Bolts flew from his hand, striking their targets with eerie precision, though he still felt the strain of each one sapping his energy bit by bit. They overwhelmed the first wave, leaving four bodies sprawled in the dirt, but as Kenji was catching his breath, five more raiders appeared, weapons raised and eyes gleaming with bloodlust.
Kenji shouted, “We’ve got five more!”
The first of the new arrivals charged, and Taro met him head-on, his blade flashing in the firelight. The raider swung wildly, but Taro sidestepped with ease, delivering a clean, decisive counterstrike. Kenji, meanwhile, raised his hand and let loose a Void Bolt, the glowing projectile streaking through the darkness to strike a raider in the chest. The man screamed as the energy corroded his skin, dropping his weapon and collapsing.
Kenji barely had time to process his small victory before another raider lunged at him. He parried clumsily with his broken katana, the impact jarring his arms. Taro moved in to assist, cutting the man down with a swift blow, but the remaining raiders pressed forward, their shouts filled with fury.
“We’re not out of this yet,” Taro growled, his eyes scanning for an opening. Then his expression darkened. More shapes emerged from the darkness—seven more raiders, their weapons raised as they rushed toward the fray.
Kenji’s blood ran cold. They were outnumbered ten to two, and exhaustion was already setting in. Taro’s grip on his sword tightened as he glanced at Kenji. “We’ve got to hold,” he said, his voice grim. “Stick to the plan. Take out as many as we can before they overwhelm us.”
Kenji staggered back as the remaining raiders closed in, their shouts a chaotic roar in his ears. His chest heaved, the adrenaline that had kept him going now twisting into pure panic. Ten against two. His mind raced, calculating and recalculating, but the math didn’t change. The odds were impossible. The raiders pressed closer, their crude weapons gleaming in the firelight, their faces twisted with savage glee.
He tried to focus, gripping his broken katana tightly, but his hands were shaking. His breath hitched as the weight of it all crushed him—the faces of the villagers he had failed to save, the bodies he had left behind, the hunger and despair he had seen etched into every survivor’s face. He wasn’t enough. He never had been. The realization hit him like a blade to the gut. He was just a farm boy with a borrowed sword and a handful of powers he barely understood. What did he think he was doing here?
Taro’s voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. “Kenji! Run! I'll hold them back while you get out of here” the soldier barked, cutting down another raider with brutal efficiency. But even Taro was slowing, his movements less fluid, his breaths more labored.
Kenji’s vision blurred as he felt the overwhelming tide of despair threaten to swallow him whole. His legs trembled, and he collapsed to his knees, the dirt cold and rough beneath him. The raiders saw his collapse and laughed—a cruel, mocking sound. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of his katana. He wanted to move, to fight, but his body wouldn’t obey. He knew he could never leave Taro to face this alone but he couldn't force himself to keep fighting the impossible as his energy gave way to exhaustion and fear.
Blood dripped from a dozen shallow cuts on his arms and torso, his breathing ragged as he stared at the ground. The raiders had him now, closing in with their crude weapons raised, their laughter ringing in his ears like the tolling of a death knell. He felt the world narrowing, the edges of his vision darkening as despair crushed him.
This was it. Just like the last time. They were going to kill him. He could see it—the swings of their weapons, the cruel grins on their faces, the inevitability of it all. He thought of Ren, of Akiko and her brothers, of the starving villagers. He thought of his father’s words, the lessons about courage and kindness. But none of it mattered if he died here, another victim of cruelty and chaos.
The fear roared in his chest, sharp and overwhelming, paralyzing him as the raiders stepped closer. Their weapons glinted in the dim light, raised high, ready to come down and end him. Kenji clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He wanted to scream, to fight, but his body wouldn’t move. He was frozen, a helpless observer to his own death.
Then, he saw it—the memory of the village burning, the faces of the people he had failed to save. He thought of the raiders’ cruelty, the lives they had destroyed, and something inside him snapped. The fear that had held him immobile cracked, splintered, and was swallowed by a boiling, white-hot rage. How dare they? How dare they do this to him, to these people, and laugh as they did it?
A low growl escaped his throat, his trembling hands steadying as the anger took hold. The raiders’ weapons were descending now, mere inches from his head, when it happened.
The world seemed to shudder as a surge of raw energy exploded through Kenji’s body. An eerie purple haze erupted from his skin, distorting the air around him like a heatwave. The weapons meant to end his life bounced off Kenji's body as the raiders stumbled back startled
A glowing notification appeared in the corner of his vision, flickering with shifting deep purple text:
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Void Essence: Emergency Activation pending Annihilation of Void Walker. Existential Shroud and Void's Embrace Engaged.
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Kenji barely registered the words. With a mental push, he dismissed the notification, standing slowly as the haze enveloped him, seeping into his wounds and dulling the pain. His body felt light, alive, as if a new energy had taken over and replaced the exhaustion. His movements became fluid, almost instinctual, as though his body was no longer entirely his own.
The raiders hesitated, their bravado faltering as they took in the sight of him. Kenji’s silhouette flickered and warped, his form almost translucent and warping in distorting patterns, like a phantom standing between two worlds. Without a word, he lunged forward, his broken katana slicing through the air with unnatural speed.
The first raider fell, his weapon clattering to the ground as Kenji’s blade found its mark. The others scrambled to react, but their swings passed harmlessly through the purple haze that surrounded him, their strikes wide and clumsy as though they were trying to hit smoke. Kenji moved like water, weaving between them with precision, his strikes efficient and devastating.
Taro, still locked in his own fight, caught sight of the transformation and froze for a moment, his eyes wide. “What in the gods’ names…” he muttered under his breath. Then, shaking himself, he used the distraction to cut down another raider, joining Kenji in the fray.
The two fought side by side, the soldier’s training and the boy’s newfound power creating a chaotic dance of death. Kenji felt the energy thrumming through him, each strike of his katana accompanied by faint trails of purple light. The raiders tried to regroup, but the sight of him—unnatural and unstoppable—shattered their resolve. Three of them turned and ran, shouting in panic as they disappeared into the forest.
Kenji stepped forward to give chase, his eyes burning with determination looking as ethereal wraith chasing the men. But as quickly as the power had come, it began to fade just as quickly. The haze flickering, suddenly died, leaving him gasping for air as a crushing wave of exhaustion slammed into him. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the ground, his vision dimming.
The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was Taro’s face, wide-eyed and hovering above him, shouting something he couldn’t make out. Then, everything went black.