The moon hung low over Teikoku no Yami, its pale glow strangled by smog and the rising smoke of burning bodies. Kuroda Ren moved silently through the corpse-littered alleyways, his chains dragging softly across the cobblestones. He was no one—just another branded slave, a discarded number in the Empire's endless cycle of cruelty.
But tonight felt… different.
Something called to him.
A strange hum pulsed through the cold air, like a heartbeat buried deep beneath the earth. It lured him toward the ruins of a forgotten cathedral. The once-sacred structure lay shattered, its stained glass windows broken into jagged shards that painted ghostly colors across the floor.
And at the center of the ruined altar… it waited.
A sword, unlike anything Ren had ever seen.
Its blade was blacker than the void itself, veins of faint crimson light writhing beneath the surface as if alive. The air around it felt heavy, oppressive, yet irresistibly calm—like the quiet before a storm that would never end.
"Come closer, child."
Ren froze. The voice wasn't spoken aloud. It was inside his mind, smooth yet suffocating.
"I am Mukuro no Tsurugi… the Blade of the Hollow Corpse. I am the will that bends existence. Take me… and everything you desire shall be yours."
His hands trembled, but not from fear. Something inside him—rage, pain, hunger—answered the call.
He stepped forward.
The moment his fingers touched the hilt, the world shattered.
Time stopped.
Raindrops froze midair like glass beads suspended in eternity. The flicker of distant torches, the drifting ash of a burning city—all of it hung motionless. Ren stood in absolute silence, his breath the only thing that moved.
And then it came.
A rush of power so vast it felt endless, like he was drowning in the raw essence of the universe. Memories not his own flickered through his mind—wars fought by forgotten gods, relics forged from their dying screams, the endless chains of fate.
"With me, you can unmake this world. Rewrite it. Destroy your masters. Free yourself. Or become something far beyond human."
Ren's lips parted. His voice was soft, almost a whisper.
"…I want freedom."
The cathedral walls exploded outward, crushed by invisible force.
Outside, the distant shouts of soldiers grew louder.
They arrived within minutes—Imperial soldiers clad in black steel, their boots striking the stones in unison. Their leader stepped forward, holding a relic-lance glowing faint blue. His face twisted with contempt as his eyes fell on the boy.
"You there! Slave! Drop that weapon!"
Ren turned slowly. His eyes—now mismatched crimson and gold—glimmered faintly in the darkness.
He didn't move. Didn't even raise the blade.
Instead, with a thought, the soldiers' weapons crumbled into dust.
"What—?!" the captain choked, stepping back.
Another thought.
The soldiers' hearts stopped beating.
One by one, they collapsed, lifeless, their eyes still wide with confusion. The captain fell to his knees, gasping, before his breath faded into silence.
Ren stood alone in the wreckage, expression unreadable.
This power… it was too easy. Too absolute.
From the shadows beyond the cathedral doors, someone watched.
A woman.
She wore a dark kimono, her long black hair tied into a precise bun. Her sharp eyes studied Ren with quiet calculation.
Miyazaki Aya.
She stepped forward, her sandals clicking softly on the stone. "So it's true," she murmured. "The Blade of the Hollow Corpse… it still exists."
Ren turned, his gaze cold. "Who are you?"
"Someone who knows what you hold," Aya replied. Her voice was calm but carried an edge. "That relic is unlike the others. It doesn't just kill. It rewrites reality itself. And if you keep swinging it like a child with a toy, you'll bring the entire Empire down on your head."
Ren tilted his head slightly. "…And you're not afraid of me?"
Aya smirked faintly. "Fear won't help me. Knowledge might."
Before Ren could respond, a flicker of movement cut through the air.
A flash of black steel descended from above.
Ren stepped aside instinctively as a scythe slammed into the ground, slicing through his shadow. For a split second, his body felt heavy—like his very existence was being pulled away.
A masked figure landed gracefully, silent as the moonlight.
Kagemi Akari.
Aya's eyes widened. "Damn… they already sent her?"
Akari's curved scythe pulsed with darkness, eating away at the shadows around them. Her voice was low, almost musical. "So you're the one who awakened Mukuro no Tsurugi."
Ren's eyes narrowed. "…And you are?"
"Your executioner."
The scythe swung again—fast.
Ren didn't raise his blade. Didn't even move.
Instead, his voice was calm. "No."
And the scythe dissolved into smoke.
Akari paused mid-step. Her masked face tilted slightly. "…Interesting. The rumors were true. That relic ignores all rules."
Aya stepped forward quickly. "Enough! If you kill her now, the Empire will know exactly where we are!"
Ren glanced at Aya, then back at Akari. "…Then why attack me at all?"
Akari smiled faintly beneath her mask. "I had to see it for myself."
Before anyone could speak further, a sharp whistle echoed through the streets. Imperial reinforcements. More were coming.
Aya cursed under her breath. "We need to move. Now."
A figure emerged from the smoke, waving urgently.
"Ren, over here! If you want to live, follow me!"
He was a man with messy brown hair and sharp, restless eyes, dressed in light armor.
Takeda Riku.
Ren narrowed his eyes. "…And who are you?"
"Someone who's not stupid enough to fight the entire Empire head-on!" Riku barked. "Move!"
Ren hesitated, then followed. Aya slipped after them. Akari vanished back into the shadows, silent as a ghost.
As they fled into the dark alleys, the whispers of Mukuro no Tsurugi lingered in Ren's mind.
"This is only the beginning."