Aikyo war Tent - The sudden attack

  The first explosion tore through Aikyo’s war camp with a deafening roar, sending flames and debris skyward in a chaotic display of destruction. The force of the blast knocked soldiers off their feet, tents crumpling like paper under the shockwave. Before they could react, the night sky was filled with death.

  Arrows rained down like a storm of needles, cutting through flesh and armor with ease. Soldiers screamed, falling where they stood, the light in their eyes extinguished before they could even register what had happened.

  The attack had come without warning, swift and merciless.

  And then—the war beasts arrived.

  Massive, horned creatures with thick armor plating crashed through Aikyo’s defenses, their riders wielding cleaver-like greatswords that split men in half with a single strike. The barricades, reinforced with months of labor, fell apart like rotting wood.

  The battlefield was disintegrating.

  Aikyo was losing.

  Captain Kenjiro, his face set in a grim snarl, was the first to react.

  “To arms! Shields up! Hold the line! Do NOT break formation!”

  But his voice, no matter how strong, was drowned by the cries of the dying.

  Hime, standing at the center of the war tent, felt a sinking realization settle in her gut.

  This wasn’t an ordinary attack.

  This was an execution.

  Zankoku had attacked from all sides, at the exact weakest points of their defense. It was too precise. Too perfect.

  Someone had given them this information.

  A traitor.

  She had no time to process the betrayal—there was no time for emotions, no time for anger. The only thing she could do was fight. She unsheathed her sword. “Regroup at the central barricade! DO NOT let them push further!”

  She wasn’t sure if anyone could still follow orders.

  But she had to try. Because if they fell here—Aikyo would be nothing more than a memory.

  At the center of the battlefield, Haruka did not think.

  She moved. She cut. She killed.

  Her blades tore through flesh, cleaving through Zankoku soldiers like they were nothing but obstacles in her path. Blood splattered against her face, but she felt nothing.

  There were too many.

  For every warrior she cut down, three more took their place.

  Fine.

  She’d kill them all. She grip her twin blade firmly, she feels the power surge from her vein, and she unleash the power. “Tengoku – Tenrai Gekiryū!” (Heavenly Divine Torrent!. Her blade howled as a white shockwave erupted outward, sending a dozen enemies flying. Their bodies slammed against the earth like broken dolls.

  But it wasn’t enough. Another wave surged forward. she change her stance, she lauched devastating attack, turning her body trying to gain momentum and swing her blades to the Ground. Danzai no Ikazuchi!” (Judgment Thunder!) She slammed both blades into the ground. Lightning erupted from beneath her, arcing through the battlefield in violent, jagged streaks. Zankoku soldiers screamed as their bodies convulsed, their armor burning, before they collapsed into the dirt, unmoving.

  But more came. Always more. The waves keep coming and coming.

  Her breath hitched, but she ignored it.

  “Kyokugen Shippū!” (Ultimate Tempest!) She spun through the air, a violent blur of steel, her twin blades carving through flesh and armor alike. The wind itself bent to her fury, dragging enemies into her assault.

  But it still wasn’t enough.

  Her muscles ached.

  Her vision blurred.

  She didn’t care.

  She lunged forward, a streak of red and silver dashing through the battle field. “Rengoku Issen!” (Purgatory Flash Slash!) The enemy never saw her coming. Her blade tore through them in a single, perfect motion.

  Still, they came.

  Still, they fought.

  Still, they wouldn’t die fast enough.

  Her arms felt heavier. Her movements became wilder. She didn’t realize it, but she was losing control.

  Her body was burning. Screaming. She could feel her stamina slipping away. But she kept swinging.

  She couldn’t stop.

  Because if she stopped— She would remember.

  She would remember Hana’s pale face as she collapsed in the last battle.

  She would remember how helpless she had felt.

  She would remember how she had sworn to protect her, only to watch her nearly die.

  And she would rather die here than feel that way again.

  So she kept fighting.

  And then—

  Pain.

  Horrible. Sharp. Immediate.

  Her body froze. She looked down.

  A Zankoku warrior’s blade was buried deep in her side.

  ---

  Aikyo’s Last Stand – Horrifying Realization

  Hime saw it happen.

  She saw the blade drive into Haruka’s side. She saw Haruka’s body lurch forward, the light in her eyes flickering for just a moment.

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  She saw everything slow down. Her stomach twisted. This was exactly what Raiga wanted. To push them to their limits. To make them reckless.

  To break them.

  Her vision blurred with anger, but she forced herself to focus. She looked around. She saw Aikyo’s soldiers, barely standing.

  She saw Kenjiro, collapsed and bleeding, struggling to lift his sword.

  She saw the terror in the eyes of her warriors. And she realized something. This battle was over.

  They weren’t fighting to win anymore.

  They were fighting to survive.

  And even that was starting to seem impossible.

  Haruka staggered. Blood spilled from her wound, soaking the dirt beneath her feet. She gritted her teeth. She lifted her blade. She refused to fall. But her body was failing her.

  Her vision blurred. Her hands trembled.

  And the enemy was still coming. She wasn’t enough. She would never be enough. Her knees buckled. Her body swayed.

  She heard someone screaming her name—Hime? A soldier? Someone—

  But she never saw who it was.

  Because the world turned black.

  A World Drenched in Blood

  ---

  The Last Stand

  Pain.

  It crawled through Hana’s body like fire, her limbs numb, her breath shallow. But none of it mattered.

  Because she could hear the screaming. It was distant at first, muffled by the haze of unconsciousness. Then, like shattered glass, the sounds pierced through her mind.

  The clash of steel. The ragged cries of men dying in agony. The thick scent of smoke, blood, and death.

  Hana’s breath hitched. Something was wrong.

  Aikyo’s camp had been secure last night—hadn’t it?

  She forced herself up, pushing through the weakness in her limbs, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. When she pulled aside the tent’s entrance, her mind went blank.

  The battlefield was a vision of hell.

  Aikyo’s warriors lay broken, their blood pooling into the earth. Some still moved, their hands gripping their wounds in a desperate fight to stay alive. Others… had already gone still.

  Zankoku’s forces surged forward, a crimson wave consuming everything in its path. Their war beasts crushed the wounded beneath their feet, and their banners loomed high over the battlefield, an omen of absolute conquest.

  And then—

  Hana’s gaze landed on the worst sight of all.

  Haruka.

  Her sister lay motionless in the dirt. A sword was buried in her side, blood seeping out like a wound in the earth itself.

  Hana’s breath caught in her throat.

  The battlefield disappeared from her mind.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  Couldn’t think.

  Couldn’t accept what she was seeing.

  Something inside her snapped.

  And then, the world cracked apart.

  The air rippled violently.

  A sudden, unbearable weight pressed down on the battlefield, so intense that even the air seemed to tremble. It was as if the very fabric of reality was protesting against something unnatural.

  Zankoku’s warriors slowed mid-motion, their movements turning sluggish, like insects trapped in thick amber.

  Then—they stopped entirely.

  Silence.

  It wasn’t just the warriors.

  Even the wind ceased to move. The battlefield was frozen, locked in a moment that should have continued—but instead, it had been rewritten.

  And at the center of it all, Hana stood. Her hair billowed wildly, her body swaying, but her presence was undeniable.

  She raised her right hand—and swung it forward.

  A command left her lips, it was low but full with authority “Nogero (Get Out of the Way.) An unseen force exploded outward.

  Hundreds of Zankoku soldiers were blasted backward, their bodies hurled like broken dolls. Some slammed into the ground so hard that their bones shattered upon impact. Others were sent flying far beyond the battlefield, vanishing into the distance.

  Aikyo’s remaining warriors, those who could still stand, watched in stunned horror.

  But Hana wasn’t done.

  Her palm still straight from her body, she curled her finger into fist. Then—she clenched it firmly like she is crushing the reality itself.

  “Tomare.” (Stop.)

  The moment the command left her lips, her body lurched forward violently.

  Pain.

  A sharp, unbearable sting tore through her chest, her ribs tightening as if her very soul was being crushed. Her vision blurred for an instant.

  Then—a sickening warmth pooled in her throat.

  She coughed. A thick splatter of blood fell onto the dirt. Her legs wobbled. Her arms trembled. Her body was breaking.

  But reality obeyed her authority.

  The battlefield was locked in time. Zankoku’s warriors froze mid-motion. Blades hovered in the air, mere inches from cutting into flesh. Arrows hung suspended in midair, their deadly tips never reaching their intended targets. Blood, once dripping from fatal wounds, now stood still like red orbs caught in a dying sun.

  Everything—every movement, every breath, every sound—ceased.

  But Hana’s focus wasn’t on them. Her eyes locked onto Haruka. Her sister’s shallow breathing, the faint rise and fall of her chest.

  It wasn’t enough.

  She wiped the blood from her mouth, her teeth clenched.

  She had to finish this.

  With a slow, pained movement, she lifted her hand one final time.

  Her fingers trembled.

  Her vision swam.

  Her body screamed at her to stop, but she refused.

  Her voice was no longer soft.

  It was a decree.

  “Kiero.” (Vanish.) She swung her arm sharply to the side.

  And a portion of Zankoku’s forces ceased to exist. Where they had once stood, only empty space remained.

  The battlefield was dead silent.

  Even Aikyo’s warriors—those who had survived—stood frozen in shock. Because they had just witnessed something beyond human comprehension.

  They had witnessed a god’s wrath.

  Hana swayed.

  Her body was shutting down.

  Her vision blurred at the edges, her lungs struggling to pull in air. She could feel her power consuming her from the inside, burning through her like wildfire.

  But she wasn’t done. She had destroyed. Now, she would do what she has meant to do.

  She staggered forward, dropping to her knees beside Haruka. Her fingers trembled as she reached for her sister’s wound. Her body begged her to stop.

  She ignored it.

  She lifted her trembling hands, her breath ragged—then pressed her palms against the earth. “Naore (Heal.) A wave of light exploded outward. It spread like a rippling ocean, washing across the battlefield.

  Haruka's body tensed, she is gasping as her wound sealed itself shut. The blood-stained dirt beneath her turned clean, as if her suffering had never existed.

  But the light did not stop with her.

  Aikyo’s wounded soldiers, those on the brink of death, felt warmth spread through their bodies. Shattered bones knit back together.

  Torn flesh mended itself. The dying opened their eyes, gasping for air they thought they’d never breathe again.

  Hana had rewritten reality itself—not just for one person, but for everyone.

  But then—

  A violent, stabbing pain shot through her chest.

  She barely had time to register Haruka’s half-conscious gasp before everything went black.

  Hime caught Hana before she could hit the ground.

  Her sister’s body was cold. Too cold.

  Haruka, barely conscious, forced herself up despite the pain. Her voice cracked. “Hana? Hana!”

  Hime tightened her grip. The battlefield had changed. Not because of war.

  But because of her.

  And for the first time, a whisper spread through Aikyo’s forces.

  "She is no warrior."

  "She is no mortal."

  "She is something else entirely."

  —