Several weeks had passed since Hokori had gained momentum.
More than half of Sainokuni had already been annexed.
Provinces fell not through speeches… but through orders and fire.
And finally, after so much waiting and planning, Reiji and his companions were ready.
They hadn't been able to infiltrate from the start.
It would have been suicide to enter before the bulk of the Hokorian army had established stable control over the territory.
That was why they headed to a forest near Kinzoku no Hana, where an old acquaintance awaited them:
Juzo Karakuri.
Juzo cleared the path to Kagemaru's division and then vanished with his classic chaotic flair, as if he had never been there.
They spent several days moving between mobile columns and temporary hideouts until they finally reached the point they had been waiting for:
The Faceless Division.
The most mysterious military unit in all of Hokori.
One without a fixed base or visible trace.
Their rivals never knew precisely where they were…
and yet, they knew everything.
Soon, the most recognizable faces of that organized shadow presented themselves.
---
A woman knelt, manipulating something imperceptible to the ordinary eye.
Her hair was tied back, her skin extremely pale, a thin bandage covering her forearms.
When Reiji approached, he saw her weaving the finest crimson threads from her own blood, as if her veins themselves were needles.
It was her.
Captain Mayuzumi Kaira.
The aura she emitted was not imposing…
but it was sharp.
Cold.
Precise.
Lethal without raising her voice.
Reiji watched silently.
He had seen her before… in the army's hidden archives.
"Shinkon: 'Shūchi no Ito' – Threads of Blood.
Uses her own blood to create threads, invisible or dense as needed.
They serve to detect movement, block paths, capture targets, or manipulate objects at a distance.
Specialized field and defense technique.
Weakness: her body is fragile. Each thread costs a wound… and not all heal."
"Watch your step," she said without looking at them.
"My threads do not distinguish allies."
Reiji did not respond. He only nodded.
---
Then appeared a silent man, with a long face and hard expression.
His hair tied in a low ponytail, a faint scar beneath his left eye.
He stopped before them and, without saying much, handed over a room key for the temporary refuge.
He was part of the division.
But his gaze made it clear that he trusted no one.
Chisiki frowned.
"Do you smell that…?" he whispered to Reiji.
And Reiji knew immediately.
"That man is Tenrai Hoshiguma.
Shinkon: 'Enmu no Kō' – Breath of Illusion.
Ability to generate spiritual gases from his mouth.
Classified into three types: poisonous, illusory, and paralyzing.
The user's body produces the gas from the lungs and expels it as if breathing madness.
Weakness: progressive internal damage. His organs suffer.
And always… smells of decay."
Reiji lowered his gaze.
"These are not ordinary soldiers.
They are souls that chose to rot… to poison the enemy."
---
Meanwhile, Donyoku and Aika had seated themselves in a corner of the stone hallway, resting after the long journey.
"Damn it, if Juzo hadn't split off from us…
I would've torn his tongue out with a spoon myself," said Donyoku, massaging his neck.
Aika let out a soft, tired laugh.
"Your tongue? I was about to cut my ears off.
Who cracks so many cow jokes in the middle of a covert operation?"
Donyoku shook his head.
"That guy doesn't need missions… he needs therapy."
They laughed briefly, as if those few words were the first breath of fresh air in days.
---
Seimei, for his part, had gone for a walk around the refuge.
He was used to tense environments, but even he felt something… heavy in the air.
Near the southern entrance, he saw a lone young man studying plans on the ground.
Seimei approached, hands in pockets, with a casual smile.
"Hey, you… lost, or also trapped in this graveyard of souls?"
Silence fell immediately.
All the nearby soldiers stared.
Not with surprise.
With… fear.
One of them stepped forward, expression stiff.
"You… just spoke to him like that?"
"To whom?"
"To Iwamaru Nagi, the new sergeant."
Seimei's smile vanished completely.
The young man with dim eyes slowly lifted his head.
He did not respond.
He merely stepped back, and three dark figures appeared behind him.
Shinigami.
Faceless humanoids.
Dark.
Like fragments of a soul that had forgotten how to be human.
Nagi said not a word.
He simply turned and walked away, the three spirits trailing him like extensions of his shadow.
Seimei swallowed and murmured:
"Alright… that was awkward."
---
And so began the first night among the tombless dead.
The Faceless Division had accepted them.
But that did not mean they were safe.
It only meant…
they would be allowed to live
as long as they remained useful.
---
Everyone slept.
Except Reiji.
Stillness was not rest for him,
it was suspicion.
This "temporary" refuge did not convince him.
Too deep.
Too silent.
Too perfect for something that wasn't.
He inspected every corner, every crack, every misaligned stone pattern.
And when he reached a wider room, a hatch sealed with old, poorly maintained seals…
he felt it.
A pressure behind him.
Dense.
Heavy.
Not like a human presence…
like a curse that had learned to walk.
He turned his head.
And there it was.
It was not a common beast.
Nor a human with induced Shinkon.
It was something in between.
Too twisted to breathe… yet alive.
And this creature made no move to introduce itself.
It attacked.
Its claws sliced through the air.
Reiji stepped back, activating his perception without hesitation.
"Its movements… fast, without aura, without voice.
Orange entity… no… maybe red. Hard to classify. But dangerous."
He drew his katana.
Kokoro no Homura glowed with pale intensity.
And the atmosphere changed.
Two monsters were about to devour each other.
Reiji launched rapid, precise cuts in perfect sequence.
But the beast dodged.
It was not clumsy.
It was precise.
Reiji was beginning to tire.
He had gone days without proper sleep, without training, unprepared for something like this.
A scratch.
The beast reached him,
one of its claws tore into his torso, ripping skin and opening raw flesh.
Reiji stepped back.
He felt the burn.
But he did not scream.
The creature did not stop.
It leapt again with a horrifying screech, when suddenly…
A scythe tore through even the air.
The beast split in two,
and Juzo Karakuri emerged from the shadows.
His activated Shinkon form burned the ground.
Dull eyes.
Fluctuating pressure.
A presence halfway between a god… and a lunatic.
"Reiji Mikazuki!" he shouted with a wild smile.
"How long has it been, twenty years or just three days!?"
Reiji did not respond.
But it was unnecessary.
Because the beast… regenerated.
Almost immediately,
it rose again and pierced Juzo's lung with a claw.
"DAMN!" he spat blood as if his body were a broken fountain. "It stabbed my good side!? Ungrateful damn thing…!"
Reiji covered the next attack with his katana,
stopping a cut aimed at his companion's neck.
Two experienced soldiers.
And yet, they could not face a single creature.
"Heartfire… Daikiri!" Reiji shouted, activating his technique.
The Great Cut.
A spiritual wave swept houses, walls, cracks, and dust, slicing the creature into pieces once more.
But it wasn't enough.
The remnants vibrated.
And the beast rejoined itself.
Reiji cursed.
Sweat ran down his neck,
mixing with blood.
He could not win.
And that idea,
the thought of dying right there,
hurt more than the scratch on his chest.
"Tch… I'm not repeating the library incident…!" he growled.
But before he could formulate another strategy,
Juzo rose in his altered form,
launching attacks like a madman blessed by desperation.
He killed it once.
And again.
And again.
And again.
A hundred times or more.
But always…
the creature returned.
And when they thought all was lost…
another presence emerged.
Not from the shadows.
Not from despair.
From the center of the field… as if it had been there the entire time.
A new monster descended from the broken roof,
silent, slow…
but with a spiritual weight that tore at the earth itself.
Its form was impossible to define fully.
It had three faces…
or perhaps none.
Its arms were blades, its legs roots,
its eyes… three abysses that did not look, but observed from within.
Reiji raised his katana.
Juzo stepped back, blood still flowing from his wound.
"Another one…!?"
But the entity did not attack.
It extended a dark hand.
And just as the original beast lunged once more…
a spiritual wall rose between them.
Dense. Unbreakable.
The creature's claw bounced off the barrier as if striking the world itself.
And then,
a human figure appeared, walking calmly behind the fused monster.
Steady steps.
Controlled breathing.
Sword still sheathed.
Iwamaru Nagi.
Empty eyes.
Expressionless face.
Almost bored.
"Do not get excited," he said in a neutral tone.
"He is not a new ally."
"What… the hell is that?" asked Juzo, still spitting blood.
Iwamaru observed his creature, the protective monster.
"A fusion.
My three shinigami decided…
to become one."
He paused.
Then looked at Reiji without changing tone.
"I didn't plan it.
They… did it on their own."
The creature roared, but not with anger.
With authority.
With judgment.
And for the first time,
the beast that had been hunting them stopped.
Not out of fear.
But out of respect.
"Be grateful," Iwamaru added as the wind swept the battle's remnants,
"that today…
my Shinkon chose to evolve."
---
The wind carried smoke.
The debris still trembled.
And amid that blood-tinged darkness…
four monsters clashed that night.
Reiji needed only a second to understand.
The entity that had arisen from the void…
was the fusion of Sergeant Iwamaru's Shinkon.
"High-Class Shinkon… but unstable.
They call it 'Kuro no Shisha'… but this is no longer a summoning.
It is an entity born from absolute bond. Possibly an involuntary Ketsuhō.
A spontaneous fusion. Not by control… but by connection."
"This boy… is not a mere wielder.
He is a gateway."
Iwamaru seemed neither exhausted nor proud.
He simply walked in sync with his creature,
as if merely fulfilling his duty.
Cuts resounded again.
Reiji, Juzo, Iwamaru, and the fusion faced an enemy that should have already been dead…
yet it did not understand.
The creature did not stop.
It did not scream.
It did not think.
It simply existed to fight.
But Reiji noticed something that made him frown.
On its left leg, engraved as if an inventory number,
a dark figure glowed:
3.
"Cataloged entity. Not a wild creature… an experiment."
And not just any experiment.
"This must be the work of the Central Laboratory of Sainokuni."
While they fought with everything, the rest of the Faceless Division did not join the battle.
And that did not surprise Reiji.
That was what they did.
Observe.
Analyze.
Keep secrets.
Some took notes.
Others measured the energy the entity released.
A few manipulated weapons that didn't yet exist in Hokori…
not even.
Others were already en route to relay information to the other divisions.
And to the King himself.
Because deep down…
they did not fight for their homeland.
They fought for data.
---
Then someone outside all of that leapt forward.
Donyoku.
His steps were clumsy at first, but his eyes burned.
He saw the silhouette of the beast that would not die.
That regenerated even after being torn apart.
And yet…
He drew his twin daggers.
Aika, still waking up, tried to stop him.
But it was too late.
Donyoku lunged at the creature.
And received a brutal blow that sent him flying several meters.
Reiji screamed, furious.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?! THIS IS NOT AN ENEMY YOU CAN…!!"
But he stopped.
The beast had a cut.
And it did not regenerate.
Reiji looked closely.
"The creature's aura is being absorbed…
It's him."
Donyoku rose, daggers raised.
His eyes were no longer the same.
His muscles vibrated.
His breathing was violent.
His Shinkon was fully active.
And Reiji understood everything:
"His ability… is not just to cut.
It devours."
Each time his blades struck true,
the creature's energy did not return to its body.
It vanished…
and sank into Donyoku's soul.
Iwamaru moved.
His creature covered a flank.
Juzo advanced, plunging his scythe into the beast's chest, immobilizing it.
"Reiji!" he shouted. "Now or never!"
Reiji understood.
He launched a covering spiritual slash.
And then,
Donyoku lowered his head.
His daggers burned.
But not with fire.
With hunger.
The blades shone, infused with the Shinkon's very soul.
And at that moment, for the first time in his life, Donyoku understood that his power craved more.
More than justice.
More than protection.
It wanted sustenance.
Reiji screamed:
"Donyoku, now!! Cut!!"
Donyoku screamed.
He ran.
And concentrated all his energy into a single slash.
"Die… already… damn thing!"
The daggers traced a perfect X.
Directly across the creature's throat.
A total cut.
No time to regenerate.
No energy to escape.
And for the first time…
The beast did not return.
---
The next morning arrived like a poorly healed wound.
The sky remained gray.
The smell of blood had not yet dissipated.
And the Faceless Division moved again.
It wasn't until they reached the rendezvous point that General Kagemaru appeared.
Not mounted on a steed.
Not walking among applause.
But gliding through bodies… changing form every twenty steps.
First an old man.
Then a girl.
Then a faceless man.
It was impossible to know his true appearance.
Perhaps none.
He received the reports calmly.
His soldiers spoke with the surgical precision of those trained to report, not to opine.
When they mentioned what happened at the refuge…
Kagemaru did not flinch.
Until they said one thing.
"One of the infiltrators…" said a soldier.
"Displayed a type of Shinkon that… devoured energy directly.
As if it did not use weapons… but hunger."
Kagemaru paused.
And for a moment,
all his faces turned toward the soldier who spoke.
Not one. Not two.
All of them.
Then he murmured softly:
"Interesting.
But it's not my priority… for now."
---
Reiji and his group joined him.
They still did not know whether they admired him, feared him…
or were simply grateful he was on their side.
When General Kagemaru finished reviewing the previous night's reports, his multiple bodies stopped in unison. His eyes, whatever they were, fixed on Reiji.
"Will you continue toward the Central Laboratory?"
Reiji nodded without hesitation.
"That place cannot stand. What's happening there is more than heresy… it's an existential threat."
"I know," Kagemaru replied without changing expression. "That is why you will not go alone."
Chisiki frowned.
"What does that mean…?"
Kagemaru slowly turned one of his faces, one that looked made of torn flesh, toward a group of soldiers gathered silently. Among them, one didn't even react to his name.
"Sergeant Iwamaru Nagi. You will escort them."
Iwamaru barely lifted his head, his posture unchanged.
"I have no joint assignments in my log," he said flatly.
"Not anymore," the General replied, his tone brooking no argument.
"I don't work with groups," the young sergeant added. "They slow me down."
Kagemaru stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"And they… are no ordinary group."
For the first time, Iwamaru looked him squarely in the eye.
"What makes them special?"
The General murmured almost under his breath:
"One of them… devoured a red-class entity with nothing but daggers. Another can distort space itself. And their leader can craft illusions so real they would tear your memory apart. He has… even destroyed a kingdom before."
A heavy silence followed.
Iwamaru lowered his gaze, closed his eyes, and nodded.
"Understood."
Reiji narrowed his own eyes. There was no trust in them, only comprehension.
"Is he reliable?"
Kagemaru's face shifted. Now it was one without eyes, without a mouth—just a neutral expression carved into flesh.
"No. But his loyalty… cannot be bought. Nor broken."
"That is enough," Reiji said.
And with that, the march continued. One more had joined their ranks. Not as an ally. As a witness. And perhaps… as a judge.
---
There was no more discussion.
They set out.
They walked for hours, passing through shattered villages, looted temples, markets with decomposing corpses beneath empty tents.
And in each place… survivors.
Hungry, broken, lost people. Children scavenging through ash, mothers with makeshift bandages, elders begging for water.
Cries, prayers, curses. Some still pleaded to their God. Others cursed him with whatever strength remained.
And Reiji… did not stop.
None of them did.
Because this mission was not meant to save anyone.
Donyoku looked at the ground. He could not ignore the empty stares. He had worn that same look not long ago.
Aika bit her lip. Chisiki clenched his fists.
They knew. They had been ruins themselves.
But their steps did not falter.
Iwamaru walked in silence. He did not watch the villages. He watched the sky. As if expecting something to devour him from above.
Seita, further back, seemed disconnected. He was creating ice figures.
One by one. Small statues of each of their companions. Perfect. Without cracks. As if trying to remember something before losing it.
"You don't resemble him so much, Donyoku," he said quietly while shaping another. "I made you more… noble."
Donyoku smiled sadly.
"Well, I feel more like a hungry villain," he replied.
Seimei, meanwhile, walked with old maps in hand. Geography papers, lines marked in red with precision.
He frowned.
"The Kingdom of Sainokuni made territorial adjustments weeks before issuing their ultimatum to Hokori…"
He took a sip from his canteen.
"It wasn't just military preparation. They are plotting something. Something very big."
And no one responded.
Because everyone knew… when Seimei spoke seriously, it meant hell was near.
---
While the world cried out for help, they kept walking.
Because war waits for no one.
And those who carry a mission in their soul… learn to ignore even the cries of those they once were.
Thank you for delving into this second arc, where war is not only waged with swords, but with wounds of the past, decisions beyond return… and souls that have yet to choose which side they stand upon.