The morning after their confrontation with the stormbeasts came quietly. A strange stillness sat in the wind, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Shinkū stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind threading through his black cloak, his eyes set on the horizon where the storm had receded. Raijin had left them a message, and the mountain ahead — Mount Reizan — was where it would all begin.
Behind him, Mei, Gorou, and Kaito prepared themselves for the next leg of their journey. The fire from the night before had long died out, but the embers still glowed faintly — a quiet symbol of resolve.
Mei tightened the wrappings around her hands. The night's storm had tested her control over the void. She had heard it whisper again. The Abyss wanted more.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" she asked, stepping beside Shinkū.
He didn't answer at first. The wind carried the scent of ozone and steel. It was the same scent that clung to Raijin's lightning.
"I won't turn away from him," Shinkū said at last. "Not now. He chose this path, and I'll follow it to the end."
"But he's not our enemy yet," Kaito interjected from behind, sheathing his twin blades. "You heard what he said. He wants to prove something to his father. Maybe… maybe there's still a way to stop this without a fight."
"No." Gorou's voice was steady, final. "This isn't about diplomacy. It's about conviction. Raijin wants to carve his truth into the world. Men like that don't stop until they break or are broken."
The three disciples looked to their master, whose silence was answer enough. Shinkū's path was never about avoiding conflict — it was about facing the darkness, no matter where it came from.
They began the climb toward Mount Reizan.
---
Mount Reizan was sacred — once a training ground for the Tempest Disciples, the elite warriors who harnessed elemental power. The wind here didn't blow naturally. It moved with intent, spiraling in unseen vortexes and testing the will of those who dared ascend.
As the group pressed upward, the terrain grew treacherous. Lightning danced between the peaks, but never struck — it merely watched. A presence was guiding it.
"The mountain's alive," Mei whispered, her voice almost drowned out by the howling air. "It's reacting to us."
Shinkū paused. "No. It's reacting to me."
Further up, they came across signs of life — or what was left of it. Burned camps. Scorched training dummies. Ruined stone altars once used in elemental rites.
Kaito knelt near a broken blade lodged in a rock.
"This was a battlefield. Raijin trained here… alone?"
"No," Shinkū said, eyes narrowed. "He was preparing."
Suddenly, a gust roared down from the summit, carrying with it a voice — young, sharp, and angry.
"SHINKŪ!"
The air warped. Thunder cracked. A streak of white lightning tore through the sky and slammed into the ledge above them. Rocks exploded outward. Mei summoned a sliver of void and shielded the group, the darkness swallowing the debris.
As the dust cleared, a figure stood silhouetted in the crackling air.
Raijin.
He wore robes of storm-forged silk, etched with silver and black thundercloud patterns. His eyes glowed faintly blue — not with madness, but with absolute clarity.
"I've been waiting," he said.
"Then you know why we're here," Shinkū replied, stepping forward. The wind died around him, as if yielding to a stronger force.
"I do," Raijin said. "I wasn't going to face you until I was ready. Now I am."
"Is this about proving yourself?" Kaito asked, stepping beside his master. "You don't have to do this."
Raijin's gaze flicked to him — then Mei, then Gorou. His mouth twitched.
"I'm not here for your permission. And I don't care about your sympathy. This is between me and him."
Raijin raised his hand, and the sky responded. Thunder rolled across the heavens like drums of war.
"You knew what my father demanded of me, Shinkū. You were his student once. You know the weight he puts on strength. He called me a failure — said I'd never surpass you. Said I was 'lightning without direction.' But I'll show him. I'll carve my path in your shadow."
"You think strength is about proving something?" Shinkū asked, eyes calm. "You think defeating me will make you worthy?"
"It'll make me free."
With that, Raijin vanished in a flash.
He reappeared behind Shinkū with a hand wreathed in lightning, striking forward. But before he could land the blow, a blade intercepted him — Mei's.
"You'll go through us first," she said, aura flickering. The void around her pulsed, unstable.
Raijin leapt back, eyes narrowing.
"So the disciples step forward. Fine. Let's see what you've learned."
---
The battle began.
Kaito moved first, disappearing in a blur. His twin blades slashed through the air in an X-shape, aiming for Raijin's flanks. Raijin deflected the strikes with arcs of electricity, then swept the area with a chain of lightning that forced Kaito to retreat.
Gorou charged in next, axe raised, bringing it down like a hammer from the heavens. The impact cracked the ground, and the wind exploded outward, but Raijin had already shifted — becoming lightning itself to avoid the strike.
"Not bad," Raijin muttered. "But not enough."
Mei followed next, releasing a spiral of void energy. The shadows twisted unnaturally, bending the light itself as they reached for Raijin like grasping hands.
Raijin frowned. The Abyss. He didn't understand it — but he could feel the hunger in it. Dangerous.
He raised both hands and unleashed a dome of lightning, severing the tendrils.
The disciples regrouped.
"He's faster than before," Kaito said, panting.
"He's more focused," Mei added. "This isn't the same Raijin we met before. He's refined his power."
"He's possessed by purpose," Gorou said. "And that's the deadliest kind of warrior."
Shinkū had not moved.
Raijin stood again at the center of the clearing, the stone beneath him scorched black.
"Enough," he said. "This was never about them. It's about you, Shinkū."
Shinkū finally stepped forward, his aura expanding like a wave.
"I hoped you'd grow. Not just in power — but in heart. Instead, you've chained yourself to your father's expectations. Is that freedom to you?"
Raijin's jaw tightened.
"I'll show you what freedom is."
The lightning grew denser. Clouds swirled overhead.
---
Far below, something stirred.
A presence ancient and watchful — one of the Jūshin.
Mukurojin, the God of Corpses, whispered from his grave of bones. The storm's birth did not escape his attention. Nor did the awakening of the void within Mei.
Soon, the Five would move. Soon, the game would begin again.
---
Back atop the mountain, Raijin lowered his stance.
"I don't want to kill you," he said quietly. "But if I have to break you to become stronger — I will."
Shinkū unsheathed his blade.
"Then come."
Their auras clashed — void against storm — shaking the very summit.
But before the battle could begin, the ground rumbled.
Lightning struck a nearby peak, but this bolt was not Raijin's.
A new figure appeared on the far edge of the cliff — wrapped in steel and smoke, his presence so heavy the air bent around him.
Kurogane Tetsujin.
Raijin's father.
The former master of iron and tempest.
The storm silenced.
"You disappoint me, Raijin," Kurogane said, voice like grinding metal. "Even now, you seek validation. You are not worthy of the storm."
Raijin's eyes widened in shock — and fury.
"This is my battle!"
"No," Kurogane said, stepping forward. "This is your final test."