He left everyone stunned. Every movement made it seem as though battle was second nature to him. His stance, his expression, his merciless demeanor—all of it spoke of a man who lived on the edge of the blade.
Though his display of strength filled the villagers with fear, the leader of the insurgents remained unfazed.
"You think just because you took down three of my men, you now have a chance of defeating me?!" he roared.
"Your defeat at my hands won't be because of something as trivial as chance," Tsushiro replied.
"It seems you don't know who I am," the leader sneered.
"Why would I bother learning the name of someone who'll be dead in a few minutes?" Tsushiro said as he shifted into a fighting stance.
Before Tsushiro could move, the remaining djinn appeared behind him, hurling a spear of blood. Tsushiro twisted aside and caught it midair, then hurled it back in one smooth motion. The djinn barely dodged, the weapon grazing his face and drawing blood.
Tsushiro stepped forward to finish it—then felt a sharp sting.
His left hand was scorched.
"Haha! You felt that, didn't you?" the djinn laughed. "That's my signature blood manipulation technique—Acid Spear. It corrodes armor and melts flesh with just a touch."
Tsushiro glanced down at his hand.
"I suppose the rumors about the fox djinn clan are true," he said calmly. "You'll use any underhanded trick to gain an advantage."
He turned his palm upward. The scorched flesh knit itself back together, whole once more.
"But it'll take more than a cheap trick to bring me down."
The djinn froze.
Tsushiro crossed the distance in an instant and drove his blade through the djinn's chest. The body collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
He turned, leveling his bloodied sword at the last remaining leader.
"Looks like it's your turn. Sorry I kept you waiting."
Tsushiro charged, fire trailing behind him as he moved with blinding speed. He swung for the neck—but the leader slipped past the strike and countered with a brutal kick that sent Tsushiro skidding backward.
Tsushiro caught himself, boots carving lines into the dirt. He straightened slowly.
"You're different from the others," he said. "Just who are you?"
The leader chuckled. "Where did all that confidence go?"
Tsushiro smiled faintly. "Are you going to tell me, or are you just going to stand there enjoying yourself?"
The djinn's grin widened. "Fine. Since you asked so politely, I'll tell you. I'm one of the fox djinn clan's finest—Waver the Electric."
Tsushiro raised an eyebrow. "The Electric?"
"They call me that because I mastered one of the rarest blood manipulation techniques," Waver said, spreading his palms.
"Blood Manipulation: Blood Thunder."
Energized blood surged into his hands, crackling violently as it twisted into the shape of lightning.
In response, Tsushiro's sword ignited, flames roaring along its edge as he lowered into his stance.
"Back home, I was hailed as the man who could make even lightning submit to him," Waver said. "So tell me—what makes you think you can beat me?"
Tsushiro's grip tightened. For a fleeting moment, his breath hitched—then steadied.
"Your lightning is nothing but a cheap imitation," he said coldly.
"I'll prove it—by beating you right here and now."