The roar of the engine echoed across the dusty highway, a beastly growl that turned heads as the lone rider slowed before the sprawling gates of Akakaze State. The morning sun cast sharp beams over the giant steel archway, its paint chipped from years of weather but still bearing the proud declaration
"Welcome to Akakaze State!"
The biker's gloved hand reached up, brushing dust off the metal sign with almost reverent care before gripping the throttle again. Beneath the tinted visor of his helmet, his eyes narrowed with a glint that was equal parts memory and malice. The smile that pulled across his lips was hidden, but it was the kind of smile that never promised good things.
With a flick of his wrist, the motorcycle snarled back to life, carrying him past the checkpoint and into the pulse of the city.
Akakaze was alive in the early hours. Merchants raised shutters while vendors shouted over one another, the scent of grilled meat and fresh bread wafting from stalls.
wherever the biker passed, the atmosphere shifted. The joyous clamor dulled as though the city itself sensed something amiss. People stepped aside instinctively, eyes following the rider with an unease they couldn't name.
He moved like a shadow cloaked in sunlight—out of place, but impossible to ignore.
At a crowded intersection, he stopped for a moment, boot tapping against the pavement in idle rhythm. His gaze swept over the high-rise banners, the crimson symbols of Akakaze fluttering in the breeze.
Traffic moved, and the biker revved forward, cutting through the avenues with lethal grace. The city swallowed him whole, but a lingering chill trailed in his wake, the same kind left by an approaching storm.
No one knew his name. No one dared ask.
But for those who caught his passing shadow, for those who felt that unshakable dread in their bones, the truth whispered itself:
Akakaze would soon find itself standing at the edge of chaos and the rider's malicious smile promised he was here to deliver it.
***
The air inside the underground chamber shifted the moment Renji stepped in. Heat rolled off the stone walls, carrying with it the metallic tang of blood and something far fouler. The training ground he had fought Captain Kalfka in felt almost merciful compared to this place.
The demon's cage sat at the center like a grotesque monument, steel bars warped and burned black by failed enchantments. The creature within snarled, claws scraping metal, eyes glowing an unsettling green. Its body was a patchwork of obsidian scales and smoldering flesh, as if it had been forged in fire and broken free too soon.
From above, the Sheshi council watched in silence. Master Arashi's gaze was razor sharp, unreadable. Beside him, Ayaka's lips tightened, though her eyes betrayed unease. Hikari gripped the railing, nails digging into her palm.
"The second trial," Arashi announced. "Defeat the demon without surrender. Survive, and you may proceed."
The cage groaned, then split open.
The beast leapt.
Renji barely rolled aside as claws raked stone, shattering it like glass. Dust filled the chamber. He darted for the sword rack, grabbing the same training blade he had used against Halfka, though it felt pitifully small against the monster's size.
The demon roared, a guttural sound that rattled his bones. It charged again, maw snapping with flame-lined teeth. Renji swung, the blade sparking uselessly against its scales. The counterblow came fast—too fast. He was thrown across the arena, crashing into the ground, air ripped from his lungs.
"Renji!" Hikari cried out before biting her tongue.
The demon advanced, heat baking the air around it. Renji staggered up, coughing, vision blurring. His right eye—the abyss within him—itched, begging to be unleashed. But he remembered Arashi's words: If you can't leash the darkness, it will leash you.
He gritted his teeth, steadied his grip, and recalled Hanzo's voice from long ago. A sword isn't for show, bro. It's for intent. Let your intent sharpen it.
When the demon lunged again, Renji met it head-on. His intent burned like fire in his chest, each strike now faster, truer. Sparks flew as steel found weak points between the monster's plates. The demon howled, stumbling back as Renji's blade pierced soft flesh.
One final strike—he twisted mid-swing, slamming the sword deep into its skull. The beast convulsed, shuddered, then crumbled in a heap of ash and smoke.
Silence.
For the first time, surprise flickered across Ayaka's face. Even Captain Kalfka, standing at attention beside the dais, let out a grunt of approval.
Arashi alone remained unmoved. His gaze shifted to the next chamber, and with a sharp gesture, Renji was guided forward
"The Oath of Flame," Arashi intoned. "The third trial."
Renji entered a room where fire burned without fuel—pillars of blue flame rising in perfect symmetry around a ritual circle. The heat here was suffocating, pressing down like invisible hands.
Ayaka descended this time, carrying a scroll bound in crimson threads. She stood opposite him, voice steady though her eyes searched his face. "Kneel."
Renji obeyed, sweat dripping from his brow.
"The Oath of Flame tests your spirit," she explained. "It is no duel. It is no fight. You will face yourself within the fire. If your will falters, the flames consume you."
She unrolled the scroll, chanting words that curled like smoke in the air. The flames shifted, bending toward Renji, enveloping him in their glow.
His vision blurred again—not from exhaustion this time, but from the pull of the ritual. He was no longer in the chamber. He stood in a void of fire, endless and merciless.
And there, standing across from him, was himself.
But darker. Twisted. His right eye fully ablaze with abyssal fire, his smile feral.
I am you without chains, the doppelgänger snarled. Why resist me? With me, you'd never bow. You'd never bleed.
Renji's fists clenched. "Without chains, I'd be nothing more than a monster."
The abyssal copy roared, rushing him. Flames engulfed them both as Renji fought—not with a blade this time, but with sheer will. His father's memory anchored him. Hanzo's training guided him. Hikari's voice, faint but desperate, called to him from beyond the fire.
He screamed back, driving the darkness down, forcing it into the abyss where it belonged.
The flames roared higher, then suddenly died.
Renji collapsed forward, coughing, his body trembling. The chamber returned. Ayaka's scroll burned to ash in her hand, her eyes wide in shock.
He had survived.
Barely.
Renji staggered to his feet, tried to bow, and instead crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
From above, Arashi finally leaned forward, expression unreadable. The silence in the chamber was deafening, until Master Daichi broke it with a low whisper.
"He may just be his father's son after all."