The old Imperial forge stood tall and menacing, a fortress of metal and fire where the moans of slaves mingled with the clamor of the anvil. Okita, cloaked in dark garb like a phantom of the night, moved through the shadows like a stalking feline. The bitter stench clung to his skin, a reminder of the cruelty that reigned within.
Velka, eyes like a cornered animal, pointed toward the back entrance. The tension in the air was thick as Minato, lightning flickering in his gaze, handed Okita a metallic orb for distraction in case things turned chaotic. Akane, crimson katana in hand, recalled the mission with an intensity that chilled the soul.
The objective was clear: the blacksmith had to fall.
Okita advanced with silent determination, his steps like whispers of leaves in the wind. Imperial guards fell before they could react, their blood staining the floor in a macabre ballet of shadow and light.
As he entered the forge, hell unfolded before his eyes. Twisted chains hung from the ceiling, prisoners and automatons working in an infernal frenzy. High above, the blacksmith—a monstrosity of metal and flesh—was forging weapons with palpable sadism in every hammer strike.
Okita watched carefully, his heart beating in time with the battle to come. Four Imperial warriors guarded the blacksmith, one wielding a spear powered by a core glowing with dangerous intensity.
With closed eyes, Okita thought of his team—his companions in the darkness. Velka, waiting in the tower with bow ready. Minato, prepared to detonate if needed. Akane, thirsty for revenge. Nael, guarding the entrance with fierce resolve.
And he, a descendant of a Solar Titan, destined to free the forge from its curse.
His katana shimmered with pale light, reflecting the resolve in Okita's eyes.
"Time to ignite hell," he whispered.
And leapt.
Okita's impact on the platform was silent—but lethal.
The first guard barely raised his weapon before the solar blade sliced through him like butter. A burst of light erupted from the wound, incinerating his armor from within. He fell with only a dry crunch.
"Intruder!" another roared, wielding the divine spear.
But Okita was already gone.
He reappeared behind him in a flash, swinging his katana in a horizontal arc that sliced the spear—and the arm holding it—in one blow. The core of the spear exploded in a violet flash upon hitting the ground, unleashing a wave of energy that knocked over a few anvils.
The alarm blared.
"EVERYONE TO POSITIONS!" the blacksmith roared, his voice like an exploding furnace.
The floor shook. The entire forge seemed to growl in response.
Automatons dropped their tools and picked up flamethrowers, hooks, and hammers. Doors sealed with metallic screeches.
But from the upper ventilation tower, an arrow whistled with a pale green glow. It pierced the skull of an automaton gunner, pinning it to a beam.
Velka had begun her hunt.
"Confirmed," she murmured into her communicator. "Sniper mode activated. I won't let anyone touch Okita."
Below, Minato pressed a button, and the steam generator engines began to screech. A second, smaller explosion shut down lights on the forge's west side.
"A gift," he whispered with a grin, drawing his katana. "Time to dance."
Meanwhile, the blacksmith had descended from the platform.
His presence was immense. His body, clad in living metal, radiated heat with every step. The hammer he wielded was forged from fused bones, with a fiery core pulsing in its center.
"You the brat here to kill me?" he growled with a rotten smile. "Hope your blood is thick. My anvil's hungry."
Okita raised his sword without reply. His gaze focused. His heart serene.
The blacksmith attacked with a roar, slamming the hammer down with a devastating blow. The impact cracked the stone and sent a fire shockwave. Okita dodged it by inches, sliding along the enemy's flank and thrusting at his side.
CLANG!
The blade bounced off reinforced plating.
"Think a blade like that can pierce this?" the blacksmith laughed and countered with a metal kick that flung Okita into a dead furnace.
Smoke rose… but something shone within the cloud.
A golden reflection.
When the blacksmith looked again, Okita was no longer on the ground.
He was above him.
"Dawn Style: Slash of Daybreak," he whispered.
A cut descended like lightning.
The blacksmith's mask was cleaved in two, revealing charred flesh and a bulging eye wracked with pain.
"GRRAAAAAAHH!!" the monster screamed as burning chains erupted from his back like tentacles.
Okita landed on his feet, panting. The strike had been precise—but not enough.
This was no ordinary foe. The blacksmith had fused with the Crimson Core, a dark relic granting demonic strength and accelerated regeneration.
His wounds were already sealing.
From above, Velka held her breath at the sight of the crimson aura enveloping the enemy.
"That thing… isn't human," she said.
Akane, approaching from the rear with her sword ready, frowned. Her blood katana throbbed.
"Time for us to join," she murmured. "That bastard won't die easily."
The air grew denser.
The blacksmith's fiery chains rose like serpents, crackling with rage. From deep within his chest, the Titan of Fire's Katana—a crimson blade veined with molten light—began to vibrate, as if waking from a long slumber.
Staggering but elated, the blacksmith laughed throatily.
"Thought you could take this gem from me? I was born to wield this power!"
Suddenly, he stabbed the blade into his chest. Flames engulfed his body, fusing flesh, metal, and soul with the burning core. His human form twisted, covered in incandescent iron scales. His right arm became a cannon forged from black bone. His face elongated, and two magma horns sprouted from his head.
A scorching aura consumed everything around him.
"I AM THE FORGER OF DESTRUCTION!"
Okita stepped back, shielding his face from the brutal heat. Velka gasped from the tower.
"That… is no man anymore…"
Akane gritted her teeth, tightening her grip.
"That damn sword… corrupted him completely."
Minato conjured an electric wave to block a burst of flame.
"Even I can't stop that fire."
The titanic blacksmith slammed his molten fist into the ground.
The impact created a crater that hurled the five companions into the air. Nael barely cushioned his fall, rolling into a pile of shattered helmets. Velka lost balance in the tower but grabbed a beam.
"DON'T COME NEAR!" the monster roared. "THIS IS THE FORGE OF MY GLORY!"
The forge's walls began to melt. The air reeked of death, burnt metal—of the end.
Okita dropped to his knees, trembling. His body had taken a direct blast. His left arm bled. The solar katana trembled—not in fear, but in fury.
Something called him.
From within.
His eyes closed.
And then… he saw it.
A glint in the darkness.
A solar silhouette. His ancestor. The first champion.
"Fire isn't just destruction… it's rebirth."
When he opened his eyes, they were no longer the same.
They glowed intensely, deep red with a golden ring at the center. His hair danced as if moved by an invisible wind. The katana in his hand vibrated, exhaling incandescent golden light.
"…That's enough."
He shot forward like a beam of light.
In one second, he stood before the blacksmith. In the next, his blade had pierced the shoulder—and then, in a spinning slash, severed his right arm.
The monster howled, feeling true pain for the first time.
"AAARRRGGGHHHHHH!!!"
"Now," Okita shouted. "Akane! Minato!"
They responded at once.
Akane leaped diagonally, her blood katana spinning in a crimson spiral. At the same time, Minato struck from the opposite flank with an electrified thrust.
"RAIJIN!" "REVERSED BLOOD!"
Their swords struck the exposed fiery core in the blacksmith's chest.
The impact generated an explosion of light and black blood splattering the ceiling. The blacksmith's scream shook the entire foundry.
But it wasn't over.
From the wound, living flames tried to engulf Akane and Minato.
Then…
Nael appeared.
"Not so fast!"
With precise movement, he threw two thread-bound daggers, slicing the flames before they could reach his teammates. He jumped between them, blocking a metallic claw with his own body. The blow launched him back several meters, shattering his shoulder guard and drawing blood from his mouth.
"Nael!!" Velka cried from above.
"I'm fine…" he coughed, standing. "Just… don't let him get back up."
The blacksmith gasped. His mutated body began to lose form. The core pulsed irregularly.
The foundry burned in ruins as the monster, mutilated and wheezing, lifted his head. His body still emitted heat and black steam, but his will was not yet broken.
"NO! I WON'T DIE HERE!" he roared, voice like a collapsing furnace.
With brutal speed, he charged at Okita. Flames roared again. Metallic scales sparked and cracked with each step. But he didn't care.
His goal was clear: drag Okita to hell with him.
Before the others could react, the impact was brutal.
"OKITA!!" Akane shouted.
The young man's body was slammed into a wall, then dragged through the ruined halls until they both flew into the adjacent forest. Trees were split, branches ignited, earth shattered with each blow.
Okita barely managed to block with his solar katana, but the blacksmith hurled himself like a flaming meteor, his remaining arm now a magma spear.
The entire forest tilted before their clash.
And then…
Okita's solar aura began to focus into his blade.
"You can't keep destroying," he whispered.
His gaze was inhuman.
His eyes glowed with a supernatural red. A golden ring in the center. The same one Akane had seen before. The same one that had shaken the blacksmith.
The air trembled.
Okita raised his katana. A line of light formed along the edge, increasingly intense, like the sun about to erupt.
The blacksmith screamed, charging with his magma spear.
"DIIIEEEE!!!"
"Solar Style: Judgment Slash."
The strike was clean.
Lethal.
Final.
Okita vanished in a flash. And when the blacksmith reached him…
…his body was split in two from chest to base.
The two halves fell aside, steaming, while Okita's katana remained raised, dripping molten fire.
Silence returned to the forest. Only the crackling of burning branches filled the air.
The blacksmith, still alive for a second longer, murmured…
"Those eyes… aren't human… Is… this brat… a d-d-d—"
His voice faded forever.
The flames died. His body crumbled to ashes.
And Okita, covered in blood and smoke, fell to his knees. His eyes slowly returned to normal.
Behind him, the leaves danced in the wind. And for a moment… all was at peace.
High above the scorched forest, beyond the smoke and pain still clinging to the earth, a red glow emerged atop a shadowed cliff.
A single mechanical eye blinked in the darkness. Cold. Emotionless. Precise.
Retro, cloaked in black and masked, aimed his ancient rifle at the clearing where Okita had just split the blacksmith in two.
The Emperor's Eye shimmered with a bluish pattern, invisible data scrolling across his visor.
"Scan complete," he muttered without shifting his gaze. "Solar Blade… red eyes with golden core… unknown technique. Threat level: A++."
The weapon pulsed again.
"This isn't the same Okita as before."
Retro's mechanical crow landed on his shoulder, transmitting a signal. A familiar silhouette appeared in the projected data: Yurichi.
Retro remained silent for a long second. Then, he shifted his aim.
"Not time to interfere. Not yet."
As he disabled Convergent Vision Mode, his eyes gleamed once more—scarlet.
"But next time you raise that sword, Raijin… …I'll be watching. And I will decide whether you're a warrior of justice… …or a threat to be judged."
Without a sound, Retro vanished into the cliff shadows, as if he had never been there.
Only the wind remained.
And judgment was sealed in silence.