The forest of the Demon's Veil was silent tonight. No wind howled through the trees. No leaves rustled. Even the night beasts that prowled these cursed lands had retreated into the shadows, sensing something far more dangerous lurking within.
Raiyo stood in the middle of a clearing, bare-chested, his body covered in bruises, scars, and fresh wounds. His katana, a simple yet well-crafted blade, rested in his hands, its edge gleaming under the dim light of the crescent moon.
Opposite him stood Ojiro Tenma, the woman who had raised him, trained him, and nearly broken him a thousand times before. Her golden eyes shimmered with an eerie light, her white hair flowing like threads of silk in the windless night. The aura she radiated was suffocating—cold, unyielding, demonic.
Tonight was different.
Tonight, she would not go easy on him.
"Draw your blade,"
Ojiro commanded. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade through flesh.
Raiyo obeyed.
The moment his katana left its sheath, the atmosphere around them changed. The air thickened, the weight of unseen forces pressing down on him. Though he had no sight, he could sense the shift—the world had entered a state of absolute combat.
And then, she vanished.
Ojiro disappeared from existence.
No sound. No presence. No warning.
But Raiyo did not panic.
"Feel the air. Feel the shift. Every motion leaves a scar upon the world."
He focused, blocking out the pain in his body, the fatigue weighing down his limbs. He listened—not with his ears, but with something deeper.
A ripple in the air. A flicker of movement.
She was to his left.
His body moved before his mind could process it.
Sparks flew as steel met steel. Raiyo had barely blocked her attack, his blade screaming under the force of her strike. The impact rattled his bones, his muscles trembling from the sheer pressure.
Ojiro did not hesitate.
She twisted, her footwork fluid like water, launching another unrelenting strike.
Raiyo barely parried.
The next attack came faster. Then another. And another.
She was everywhere and nowhere all at once, her blade carving through the night like a phantom's whisper.
Raiyo had no eyes to see her—but that no longer mattered.
Pain had long been his teacher.
Every scar on his body told a story of failure. Every wound was a lesson written in blood.
And yet, he had survived.
Not just because of Ojiro's training, not just because of his demon heritage, but because of something deeper—something even she had yet to fully understand.
Tonight, he would prove it.
Ojiro disappeared again, vanishing into the void of nothingness.
But this time, Raiyo did not wait for her to strike.
He moved first.
Pivoting on his heel, he slashed his katana through the empty air, aiming not for where she was, but for where she would be.
The blade met resistance.
A sharp gasp.
Ojiro reappeared a few steps away, a single strand of her white hair fluttering to the ground. Her golden eyes widened for a fraction of a second before her lips curled into a grin.
"You're finally beginning to understand,"
she whispered.
Raiyo exhaled, his grip tightening on his sword. His entire body screamed at him to stop, but he pushed the pain aside.
He had cut the unseen.
And that meant only one thing—
He was no longer just a blind swordsman.
He was something more.
Ojiro lunged at him again, but this time, Raiyo did not react as a human would.
He let go of logic. He let go of fear.
And for the first time, he let himself move with the void itself.
The world slowed around him.
The air whispered secrets.
He felt the disturbance in the flow of existence, the pulse of energy where the blade would land before it even moved.
He sidestepped.
Ojiro's katana missed him by a fraction of an inch.
It was the first time in his life that he had dodged her without relying on raw instinct.
Ojiro stopped, staring at him with something akin to curiosity.
"Impressive," she admitted. "But you're still not ready."
She vanished again—but this time, Raiyo did not feel fear.
He had tasted the first step of true sightlessness.
Now, he had to master it.
Their battle continued, stretching into the long hours of the night.
Each clash of steel was a lesson. Each cut on his body was a reminder.
Ojiro fought with everything she had, pushing him to his absolute limits.
But Raiyo did not break.
He endured.
He adapted.
He grew.
By the time the first rays of dawn began to paint the sky in hues of crimson and gold, he stood victorious—not over Ojiro, but over the weakness that once chained him down.
His master studied him in silence for a long moment before speaking.
"You're ready for the next step," she said, sheathing her katana. "The Sightless Sword is no longer just a dream. It is now a reality."
Raiyo clenched his fists, his body battered but his spirit stronger than ever.
This was only the beginning.
He had walked the path
As Raiyo stood beneath the morning light, he knew one thing with certainty.
He was no longer just an abandoned child.
No longer just a student of demons.
No longer just a blind swordsman searching for meaning.
He was something more.
Something unstoppable.
The world had yet to learn his name.
But soon—they would never forget it.