The Grave of Blades did not disappear all at once.
It dissolved—slowly, like a battlefield trying to remember it was never supposed to exist. Swords sank back into the fractured floor, chains withered into soot, and shadows coiled tight around Ren's ankles like frightened animals. Every breath he took scalded his lungs. His body trembled. Sweat and blood mixed on his skin.
The broken Oni mask clung to half his face, its cracked horn dangling by a thread of shadow.
Ren tried to rise—failed—and dropped to his knees again.
Rain knelt beside him instantly, Cadris flickering with low electrical aftershocks. He didn't touch Ren—just stayed close enough to anchor him. The weapon's pulse steadied Ren's breathing.
"You held it back," Rain murmured. "Just enough. That matters."
Ren's golden eye flickered. He nodded weakly.
Genrou stood a short distance away, arms crossed, chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. There was no smile on his face now. No humor. No grandfatherly softness.
Only pressure. Weight. Memory.
"…That mask," he said quietly. "That curse should have died with the one who wore it before you."
Silence thickened.
And then—
Footsteps.
Light. Deliberate. Unhurried.
The temperature in the room dropped. Not physically—but spiritually, like something unwelcome had walked across the grave of the Soji name.
Ren's head lifted just enough to see.
Rain's grip tightened on Cadris.
Genrou's jaw clenched.
A figure stood at the shattered entrance of the hall—lean, tall, posture immaculate, hair white as winter bone and long enough to brush his jaw. His presence was too calm. Too composed. Too familiar. His aura did not press or threaten—
It watched.
On his face rested a mask of red and bone-white lacquer—smooth, sharp, smiling with a cruelty so clean it was almost beautiful. Four horns crowned it—curved forward, like a beast prepared to gore the world.
Rei Soji.
The exiled heir. The clan butcher. The one whose name was never spoken aloud.
"You've grown, little cousin," Rei said softly.
Ren's blood froze.
The shadows around him rose instinctively in a ring—swords, chains, spears— but his body was too weak to guide them. They twitched, jerked, and then stilled, trembling like frightened animals.
Rain stood immediately.
"Don't move another step," he snarled, electricity flaring along Cadris in a ripping arc.
Rei did not even glance at him.
His mask turned toward Genrou.
"You haven't aged at all, Grandfather."
Genrou stepped forward.
Slow. Controlled. Every muscle wound tight.
"You are not my grandson," he said.
Rei's smile didn't waver.
"You said that last time."
Rain's voice was a blade: "You were banished. Stripped of your name. The clan's dead because of you."
Rei's head tilted slightly.
"A clan too weak to survive deserved to fall."
Ren's heart stopped. He felt the words hit Genrou like a physical blow.
The old man's hands curled into fists so hard his knuckles cracked.
"You slaughtered them," Genrou said. Not a shout. Not a roar. But a voice that carried decades of grief. "Your own blood. Your own kin. Your own mother."
Rei's silence was the coldest thing in the room.
Rain's blade ignited, arcs of power scorching the ground.
"One more word," Rain said, voice shaking with fury, "and I'll kill you where you stand."
Rei's stance shifted.
Not aggressive. Not defensive.
Just enough to show he understood Rain could be dangerous.
Then his gaze fell to Ren.
Not curious. Not mocking. Not warm.
Evaluating.
"You awakened the Mask," Rei said simply. "Too early. Too violently. You'll die if you continue like this."
Ren tried to speak—his voice came out broken:
"Don't… talk to me."
Rei took a single slow step forward.
Shadows flared, responding to Ren's instinct—not reason. Swords rose again. Chains lashed forward. Spears formed mid-air.
But his body trembled too violently to hold them. The constructs sagged, collapsing into black mist.
Rei didn't attack.
He simply lifted one finger.
A single, nearly soundless snap echoed.
Ren felt the shadows freeze.
Not dispelled. Not undone.
Commanded. By blood.
Rei's voice was almost gentle:
"You are Soji. Your shadow listens to the strongest blood. Not the one who desires control the most."
Ren's heart hammered.
The golden eye flickered.
The mask twitched, struggling to reform.
Rain moved to strike.
Genrou's hand stopped him.
Not to protect Rei.
But because Genrou was walking forward himself.
The old man's steps echoed like thunder.
His aura did not flare.
His muscles did not swell.
His presence simply descended.
Like a mountain choosing to fall.
Rei's mask tilted.
"…You want to fight me."
Genrou's voice trembled—not with fear.
With rage.
"You returned to this house. You breathed our air. You walked on the ground stained with the blood you spilled."
The old man's foot slid back— stance lowering— weight centered—
Not the playful teacher. Not the patient elder.
The one who had once been called:
The Endless Blade.
Genrou's aura crushed down on the room—gravity itself bending.
"You do not get to walk in here alive."
Rei sighed softly.
"As expected."
He stepped forward too.
Two predators. Two generations. Two monsters born from the same bloodline.
The air cracked.
Rain lifted Cadris. Ren staggered to his feet. Shadows surged in panic.
Everything in the world waited for the first strike.
Rei's tone was soft:
"Don't blink."
Genrou answered:
"I wasn't planning to."