The knock echoed like a war drum.

  Ren and Akira remained still, eyes locked on the door. The presence beyond it was suffocating, thick with a pressure that could crush the air itself. The wood creaked as it slid open, and a lone figure stepped inside.

  Shigure.

  No hesitation. No grand speech. No time wasted. The moment his foot crossed the threshold, his bde was already unsheathed.

  “Take Form… Ashura.”

  A blur of motion—he had already crossed the room. A gleam of steel. He appeared behind Akira in an instant, six spectral arms manifested, each gripping a katana of unnatural sharpness. The weight of his attack was undeniable.

  Akira barely moved his body in time, Raikou smming into one of Shigure’s bdes with a concussive BOOM that cracked the walls. Even blocking the strike sent a shockwave through Akira’s body. His feet dug into the wooden floor, carving trenches beneath him.

  Ren, still recovering, barely had time to react. A deyed gust of wind from the csh sent his hair whipping back.

  Akira exhaled sharply. “So this is Musabori’s new elite?”

  Shigure didn’t stop. His impatience was his defining trait, and in battle, that meant relentless pressure. His six arms moved like a storm, each katana a streak of light cutting through the air.

  One ssh came from above—Akira parried. Another from the side—he twisted, barely avoiding it. A thrust nearly grazed his ribs—Raikou pulsed, generating a burst of force that sent Shigure skidding back a few feet.

  The Musabori warrior grinned. “Kuroda was right about you. Killing you now is best for us.”

  Akira rolled his shoulder, exhaling. “He should’ve did it back then.”

  Shigure’s grin widened. “It’s fine. I wasn’t around back then… but I’m here now.”

  He surged forward again, bdes weaving intricate patterns of death. Akira braced, then countered.

  “Raijin’s Echo.”

  Raikou pulsed again, sending out a deep, thunderous shockwave that rippled through the air. The vibrations distorted the very space between them, shaking the hut’s foundations.

  Shigure twisted mid-air, nding smoothly despite the concussive force. He barely had time to recover before Akira followed up.

  “Heaven’s Pulse.”

  The drum roared. A sonic boom erupted beneath Shigure’s feet, the force lifting him off the ground for a brief second. Just long enough.

  Akira capitalized, swinging Raikou downward.

  “Shinra Banshou.”

  The moment the drum made contact with Shigure’s guard, a massive explosion of sound sent him flying through the hut wall, out into the night.

  Shigure didn’t even flinch. He nded in the dirt, rolling to his feet instantly. The ground beneath him cracked from the force of his nding.

  “Not bad.” He flexed his fingers around his hilts. “But holding back against me will be your death.”

  Akira stepped through the broken wall, adjusting his stance. “You’re right.”

  Shigure’s eyes narrowed.

  Akira inhaled deeply. Then—

  “Heavens Roll.”

  A pause.

  Then—Akira’s palm struck Raikou’s surface, a deep, echoing BOOM filled the space—slow, deliberate, resounding through the air like the heartbeat of a storm.

  With each strike, the pressure around them shifted, the very fabric of sound distorting—waves of compressed air rippling outward, warping space itself.

  By the fourth beat, the wind howled unnaturally, as if reality itself were shaking in anticipation. A storm began to form above them.

  Shigure’s grin turned menacing.

  BOOM.

  BOOOM.

  BOOOM—

  Akira then stopped striking the drum.

  “You being here now… makes no difference.”

  He blurred forward.

  The storm crashed.

  A bolt of lightning struck as Akira’s fist met Shigure’s bdes, the sheer impact sending out a blinding shockwave.

  The battle had truly begun.