"Even if the world turns to dust, my soul shall rise again… until my oath is fulfilled."
And when Raiketsu fell, silence fell upon the battlefield — but his spirit did not perish.
Somewhere beyond the current of time, his spirit roamed in a sea of darkness, memories of his former life spilling like dying coals.
When the wheel of reincarnation beckoned him, he was reborn again — robbed of the past, yet tied by the same fate.
He awoke as not Raiketsu, the defeater of Shadow Dragon Monarch, but asKageya Kurookami, heir to the one time glorious Black Wolf Clan.
He did not remember his previous life.
No recollection of his fights, his strength, nor the throne of darkness that he once stood supreme over.
But deep in his heart hidden under layers of abandoned dreams lay a faint, eternal flame:
the strength of the first ruler, the great antique, the Shadow Dragon Monarch.
Although his physical form was that of a nine year old boy, the blood flowing through his veins still retained a trace of that ancient power.
It spoke to him in the darkness, it stirred while he slept, and it caused even the forest's wild animals to bow their heads whenever he passed.
The jungle was alive that morning.
Birds trilled their piercing songs across the treetops, and the leaves rustled out a dance to the beat of the wind.
Kageya traversed the underbrush, his wooden practice sword bouncing at his hip, sweat beading across his brow.
His master, Ryouzen, a tall man with greying hair tied back in a warrior's knot, watched him from a nearby rock.
The old man's single remaining eye glowed faintly beneath his scarred brow — a reminder of the many wars he had seen.
"You've grown faster than most boys your age," Ryouzen said, voice rough like stone.
"But your strikes still hesitate. A blade that fears blood cannot protect anyone."
Kageya straightened, breathing softly. "I'm not afraid, Master. I just… don't want to hurt without cause."
The old man chuckled, half amazement, half sympathy. "And for that, you are worthy of the Black Wolf's blood."
The boy smiled weakly. He enjoyed these mornings the peaceful cadence of training, the misty veil that rolled through the trees, and the warmth of a teacher who was more like a relative.
For as long as he could recall, life had been easy: train, eat, sleep, and hope to be strong enough to someday be able to defend his clan.
Fate, however, had already started to orchestrate.
The sound preceded it a whisper of wind cutting through the forest.
Then the stinging hiss of arrows.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Three black-feathered arrows shot out from the darkness like snakes.
Ryouzen acted in a flash, knocking Kageya out of the way. One arrow skimmed off his shoulder, another stuck deep in his thigh, and the third went through his abdomen.
Blood arced through the forest floor, splattering the roots at his feet.
"M–Master!" Kageya shouted, grabbing for him.
The old warrior clamped his teeth together and hung on to the shaft of the arrow. His breathing was harsh, but his voice was steady.
Listen to me, Kageya… return to the clan. Warn them. Now!"
"But I can assist !"
"No!" Ryouzen's voice boomed through the woods, his one eye blazing. "You're the heir! You have to survive, no matter what! Run!"
Kageya stiffened caught between obligation and terror before Ryouzen pushed him so hard it almost sent him tumbling to the earth.
"Go! That's a command from your master!
Tears filled the boy's scarlet eyes as he turned and fled.
He didn't dare glance back. He couldn't.
At his heels, he heard the ring of steel on steel and the stifled cry of his master — and then nothing at all.
The forest stretched on forever as Kageya ran towards the village.
Trees became a blur, his heart pounded against his chest, and the air thickened with every step.
A strange smell hit his nose thick, choking, familiar in a way that twisted his gut.
Smoke.
He slowed, eyes widening as he emerged from the treeline.
The Black Wolf Clan was gone.
The once lively village was now a wasteland of flames and ash.
The houses he used to run past were burning skeletons, collapsing one after another.
Corpses covered the roads — warriors, children, the old — all still, their previously proud faces now unidentifiable.
"N-no…" Kageya stammered, lurching forward. "No… this can't be…"
He ran further, shouting names, but none replied.
All that was heard was the fire crackling and the distant hum of the wind.
As he walked past the central well, the smell of death became a nauseating stench.
He glanced down — and froze.
The well was packed with bodies.
Women, the elderly, babies — burned, battered, not recognisable stacked upon one another like sacrifices to some sadistic deity.
Kageya dropped to his knees, his gut churning as bile crept up his throat.
"Mother…? Sister…?" his voice broke. "Where are you…?"
The silence that followed was more crushing than any scream.
He compelled himself forward toward the chief's mansion his home.
Each step resounded in the empty air. His boots splashed in puddles of blood which no longer steamed.
By the time he came to the great gate, his legs shook.
The mansion was ruined, its wooden pillars blackened to charcoal. The gold emblem of the Black Wolf Clan was broken on the ground.
Kageya staggered in and came to a halt.
Bodies everywhere he saw.
Men beheaded, women hanged from door frames, and the odour gods, the odour stuck to his skin.
Then his gaze spotted movement around the altar.
It wasn't movement. It was the wave of a flag, nailed brutally over a beheaded man stuck on a wooden cross.
The mark of the flag was unmistakable a white crescent moon with dropping petals.
The Tsukihana Clan.
His breath stuck in his throat. His heart pounded, its beat rattling his tiny body.
"Why…?" he whispered. "Why would they do this…?"
The wind replied with a desolate howl.
His eyesight dimmed. His body shook.
Then, deep in his chest, something prehistoric awakened a growl, not from his lips, but from his very soul.
The air congealed. The temperature plummeted.
Dark, churning mist started to rise up from the ground around him, and shadows climbed his arms like living chains.
His eyes glowed dimly red darker, more sinister than before.
The Shadow Dragon Monarch's dormant power started to awaken.
Glimpses of a life he did not recall seared through his mind — a throne of darkness, wings of shadow, the roar of dragons.
He clutched his head, gasping, as the faint outline of a massive dragon — black as midnight appeared behind him, its eyes burning crimson.
"They will pay…" Kageya muttered through clenched teeth, his voice low and trembling.
"Every last one of them… the Tsukihana Clan… I'll burn them to ash."
The black aura around him pulsed violently, shaking the ground. His hair fluttered in the gust of his own power.
For an instant, the boy seemed less of a child and more like a storm personified.
The dragon's bellow shook the night, unheard by all living things.
It was not merely the scream of fury it was a vow.
A curse.
When the aura dissolved at last, Kageya sank to his knees, shaking and shattered.
He glanced a final time at the destroyed house at his father's decapitated head, his mother's empty eyes and breathed the only sentence his heart could muster.
"I will never forget this… not in this life… not in any to come."
He stood, wiping his tears away with bloodied hands, and set off towards the dark forest.
The flame burned in his eyes like the dawn of something new — not hope, but revenge.
That evening, beneath the silvery moon, the last member of the Black Wolf Clan left behind the ruins of his kin.
The boy Kageya perished in that village.
And something darker, colder, and stronger was created in his stead