While the Dogs held council, outside Wind and Thunder Gorge, in a Leopard Cat Tribe encampment among rows of stone dwellings, furious curses rang out from within one of the huts. The sound was so venomous that the surrounding Panther soldiers fell silent, cowed and trembling.
"Damn Crow Tengu… accursed An'umaru… and that fool, the Sixth Elder!"
The Leopard Cat Tribe's Third Elder, gravely wounded and dragged back half-dead by his clansmen, had only just regained consciousness. The first thing he saw was his severed left arm.
Rage and disbelief welled up from his chest.
That a mere Crow Tengu—a petty race of bird demons—had left two Leopard Cat Elders ruined, one dead and the other crippled!
This wasn't even in battle with the Dog Clan, but a humiliating disaster inside Wind and Thunder Gorge.
"Damn it! Just for killing a few birds, and to seize their clan treasure—you dared… you dared…!"
"It's all that idiot Sixth Elder's fault! If he had cooperated with me earlier, we could have wiped them out easily. Instead, he brought down a thunderstorm on our heads!"
"I have no idea what he was doing in the Raimei-Den… that bratty little girl waving around the Thunder Spear—it was obviously unfinished!"
The Third Elder tried to steady his fury, forcing his muddled thoughts into clarity as he replayed the battle in his mind.
At last, he laid the blame on one man: the Sixth Elder, now dead in the gorge.
"Greedy fool, ruined everything with his incompetence!"
After some time, a Leopard Cat messenger, waiting until the hut had grown quiet, dared step inside to deliver the latest report.
The Third Elder listened, his face darkening, his resentment toward the Sixth Elder and the Crow Tengu burning hotter still.
The news was simple: the Grand Elder demanded answers.
Yet here he was, crippled and humiliated. Whatever he reported would only disgrace him further, and disgrace their entire tribe.
Worst of all, the Dog Clan would learn of it—especially their own Second Elder, who had likewise lost his left hand. The thought of being mocked by that dog's smug face sent a shiver down his spine.
For a man, pride was life. For a tree, its bark was its skin. He had fallen here—he would rise again from here.
"If I can exterminate the Crow Tengu, seize the Storm Wings and Thunder Spear, then my strength will soar, and none will dare laugh at me!"
"And if I slay another of the Dog Clan's Elders, I can even fill the void left by the Sixth Elder's death!"
His mind made up, the Third Elder ordered the messenger to tell the front lines he would return within seven days.
But as soon as the messenger left camp, he sprinted not toward the distant battlefield where the Grand Elder waited—but straight back to the Leopard Cat homeland.
The Third Elder was gravely injured. His evasive answers about the Sixth Elder's death, and his delay of seven days, filled the messenger with dread. The more he thought, the more terrified he became.
As one of the Grand Elder's trusted kin, he was no fool. He had the authority to act on his own judgment.
If he wasted time going all the way to the front, relaying news, waiting for the Grand Elder to deliberate, even asking the Panther King himself—by then, it would all be far too late.
Only the Panther King at home could act swiftly and decisively.
At the same time, back in Wind and Thunder Gorge, within the ruins of the Raimei-den—
The sound of loud quarreling stirred An'umaru from unconsciousness.
Clinging to life by the power of the Storm Wings at his back, the Crow Tengu leader looked upon his devastated clan and felt grief welling from his heart.
For generations, his line had borne the Storm Wings, ruling from the cliffs beneath the Thunder Hall. Now, after this battle, nine-tenths of them were gone.
Only the branch families, spread along the outer cliffs, had survived in greater numbers, spared by their distance from the battle's heart.
"Nuyā! You're the clan head's only remaining heir—I'll overlook your insolence. But let us pass. We must see Lord An'umaru's condition!"
Outside the shattered hall, where even the roof had collapsed and no firm ground remained, Nuyā sat silently atop a fallen slab of stone.
Her black ceremonial robes were torn. She had not bothered to change them. Her once-pale hands were scorched, gripping the Thunder Spear, its fading light casting sparks. Blood still dripped from its tip, hissing smoke into the scorched earth.
Her eyes—cold, unwavering, and tinged with crimson—fixed on the supposed "well-wishers" before her.
Whoever held the Storm Wings would become the next great yōkai of the Crow Tengu—the rightful clan leader.
An'umaru's line had ruled for centuries. But now that his bloodline teetered on the edge of extinction, the two branch captains who had survived by cowardice saw their chance, and their hearts brimmed with malice.
"Go back. I will care for the clan head. Your meddling is not needed."
Her voice was frigid.
As the two captains prepared to argue, lightning flared along the spear in her hands.
Startled, they stepped back. Their faces flushed, jealousy and greed flashing nakedly in their eyes.
When this is over—the Storm Wings and Thunder Spear, one for you and one for me!
Their glance said all that was needed.
Without another word, they turned and stalked off, taking their men with them.
The surviving main-line Crow Tengu, who had stood by Nuyā, approached to lend their support—only to be dismissed coldly by her as well.
Amid curses muttered under their breath, Nuyā lifted her eyes to the cloud-darkened sky. Her body and soul were exhausted. Her gaze was dim.
"This… this is the least I can do as a daughter."
The whispers of others mattered little to her.
Her two elder brothers were dead. Her father now hovered at death's door. Whatever else she was, however unwelcome among them, she still bore the same blood.
Right and wrong, good and evil—she no longer cared.
As one of the captains had said yesterday:
So long as the Storm Wings are claimed—whether by her or another—the Crow Tengu would gain a new Elder-class yōkai to shield them, and their clan could endure in the Western Lands.
At worst, they could retreat to other lands and rebuild.
And the Thunder Spear would remain the symbol of the main line.
All of it sounded so bright, so promising. But the cost was An'umaru's life.
Nuregami no longer bothered to think of it. She would not give anyone the chance to force that choice on him. She would sit here, guarding him until the end.
She could no longer carry him to safety. Her own body threatened collapse at any moment.
And the Thunder Spear—unfinished, flawed—only had power here, within the lightning-rich air of Wind and Thunder Gorge. Beyond it, it would be no more than scrap iron.
"It is time… to decide."
Inside the ruin, An'umaru's clouded eyes flickered with a final moment of clarity.