The wind settled, and so did the tremors in their bones.
Kaito leaned against a cold stone pillar near the shrine's entrance, his body aching from the clash with Kazan. The shrine loomed behind them, a crumbling relic of something sacred long forgotten—yet something within its decay still pulsed with unseen power. Renn sat on the far edge of the moss-strewn steps, arms folded, eyes staring forward at nothing. Taru paced in silence, his white eyes reflecting the fading moonlight.
"I've fought teachers. I've fought Kazuki," Kaito finally said. "But that man... Kazan… He was different. He didn't fight like someone trying to win. He fought like someone testing a theory."
"Or a warning," Taru murmured.
Renn didn't speak. His eyes narrowed as if replaying every parry, every strike, every failure. The wind brushed past him, catching the tips of his black hair as he finally said, "He could've killed us."
"But he didn't," Kaito replied. "Why?"
"He wanted us to feel something," Taru said. "Fear… respect… or maybe doubt."
Silence crept in again. A kind that bit deeper than the bruises and fatigue. It wasn't just the encounter—it was the weight of what they were walking toward. The shrine behind them now loomed as a gateway, not a destination.
Taru finally turned. "We press forward. He didn't block the shrine's path. He tested it."
Renn stood. "Agreed."
As they passed through the half-shattered archway of the shrine, something strange occurred. No traps, no curses—only silence. And then… footsteps.
The group halted immediately. Ahead, embedded in the cracked flooring of the inner chamber, was a broken spear. Around it were torn pieces of scrolls, some marked with sigils similar to what they had seen on Hollow Gale scouts.
Kaito bent low, brushing dust off a particular piece. "This… it's a map."
"More than that," Renn added, crouching beside him. "It's a record of movement. Look—these routes… they're moving resources or prisoners."
Taru's jaw clenched. "Could be my sister."
The revelation hit like cold water. Kaito's mind flashed to Taru's inconsistent memories—Ayaka, Airi, Mika. Were they all names he'd overheard as a child? Or was the trauma burying the truth deeper and deeper?
He said nothing.
Suddenly, the chamber trembled slightly, and a concealed door began to open behind the altar, triggered by their touch.
From the shadows beyond the door came heat—unnatural and choking. The walls pulsed like veins, and a low hum reverberated through the stone like a heartbeat.
They stepped in cautiously.
What they saw ahead was not an enemy, but a scene: an underground staging hall. Empty now. But fresh scorch marks marred the floor, crates lay half-packed, and one banner still fluttered from the wall: the broken fang of the Hollow Gale.
Renn walked slowly toward the center and knelt beside something. He held it up.
"A ring."
Taru's breath caught.
Kaito turned. "What is it?"
Taru took it with trembling fingers. "My mother wore this... the day we—"
He stopped, swallowed.
"She fought back," he said.
The chamber's silence grew louder, swallowing them whole. But the message was clear:
They were close.
Someone had been here—family, or foe. And wherever Hollow Gale had gone… they had left traces for those willing to bleed to find them.
Kaito stood tall. "Then we follow. No matter what."
They exited through the opposite passage, unaware that a pair of scarlet eyes had watched them from the depths beyond the shrine—a whisper of a grin curling beneath a hood.
The forest held a silence that was too complete—too purposeful. Birds no longer chirped here. Even the wind, which once carried cryptic murmurs through ancient boughs, now pressed in like a suffocating veil.
Himari Saki was the first to speak, her voice hushed. "This is it… the place Jin described."
Around her, the rest of the student group stood tense. Erika Yui tightened her grip on her canteen, droplets of water pulsing inside as if reacting to something unseen.
"There's blood," Shouta Aoi muttered, crouching low beside the scorched remnants of old roots. "Not fresh, but not too old either. Something went down here. And not long ago."
Kazuki Tetsuya, fists clenched, narrowed his eyes at the broken stones scattered around the shrine's center. "Kaito… Taru… Renn. They were here."
Kobito stood silently at the edge of the clearing. He said nothing, but his expression was unusually grave. His gaze wasn't on the broken earth, or the bloodstains, but the shattered mask fragments lying beside a half-burned tree. His father's soldiers had worn the same kind.
"It's recent," Miss Mizuki's voice cut through the group. The teacher, clad in her partial combat uniform, surveyed the area calmly but with clear concern. "Kazan was here. But he's gone now."
"Was he Hollow Gale?" Erika asked.
"No," Kobito said, surprising everyone. "He wasn't like the others… Jin was afraid of the Hollow Gale. But when he spoke of Kazan… there was hesitation. Maybe even respect."
Erina stepped forward, brushing her hand across the shrine stones. "This place… feels cursed."
"No," Akiho muttered, standing a little distance away, watching the shadows between the trees. "It feels like something's waiting to return."
A low hum vibrated through the air suddenly—like a warning.
All eyes turned to the forest's edge.
A breeze swept through, revealing a faint trail of footprints. They weren't deep, but unmistakably fresh. They curved away from the shrine, toward a denser part of the woods where the canopy strangled the sky.
Principal Rogiru's voice crackled through the comm-beads the teachers wore.
"Do not pursue Kazan. Your mission is retrieval, not confrontation. Prioritize recovery. If Kaito, Taru, and Renn are alive, we bring them back."
"But they won't stop just because we showed up," Kazuki argued, stepping forward. "They're hunting answers. I can feel it."
Miss Mizuki turned to the students, firm. "We're not abandoning them. But we will follow procedure. Erika, Himari, Akiho—fan out and look for any notes, markings, or signs they might've left."
"What if we find Hollow Gale soldiers instead?" Shouta asked.
Miss Mizuki smiled faintly. "Then pray they aren't foolish enough to fight you."
The group dispersed through the area, moving methodically now—each of them feeling the weight of something far greater than they understood beginning to unravel.
The desecrated shrine had been a battle ground.
But it was also something else.
A gateway.
The forest canopy had thinned just enough for a weak sliver of moonlight to illuminate their makeshift camp. Despite the eerie quiet of Woundwood, there was a subtle comfort now—because they were no longer just three.
Miss Mizuki stirred the fire with a twig, her usually strict face dulled by concern. Across from her, Kazuki leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, casting sharp glances at Kaito, as if watching for any weakness. Himari and Akiho sat nearby, whispering in low tones, while Erina remained unusually quiet, her knees hugged to her chest.
"I still don't trust that man," Kazuki muttered, nodding toward the direction Kazan had left hours ago.
"He helped us," Kaito replied, his voice even.
"Doesn't matter. You don't trust people who show up in cursed forests with two katanas and disappear like mist."
Miss Mizuki spoke without looking up. "Enough. Whether we trust him or not, he bought us time. And right now, that's more than we had."
Taru stood apart, his white eyes lost in the firelight. "We're closer to Sanctum 13 than any of us have ever been," he said. "But it won't be just traps and scouts anymore. They'll know we're coming."
"They already do," Renn added. "And they'll want to send a message."
A hush fell.
Then, Kaito looked toward Miss Mizuki. "So what's the plan now? We're not ready to face whatever's in that place. Not yet."
Her lips tightened. "We don't face it head-on. Not immediately. We gather intelligence, we isolate weak points. And we prepare."
"How?" Akiho asked. "We barely made it this far."
Miss Mizuki stood, brushing off her coat. "Because we're going to stop surviving... and start fighting back. The Hollow Gale took too much already. It's time we begin reclaiming."
The fire crackled, shadows dancing like ghosts of the fallen. The group exchanged looks—tired, uncertain, but something stronger rooted in their expressions now.
Resolve.
The air changed the moment their feet crossed the boundary.
There were no signs, no walls—only a feeling. Like stepping behind a veil of breathless tension. The forest thinned into a jagged valley carved by time and something far crueler. Trees were twisted into charred sculptures, and the earth bore the scars of battles long erased from history.
This… was Hollow Gale territory.
No birds sang here. No insects dared buzz. The only sound was the crunch of boots against dead leaves and the faint groan of wind pushing against a barrier the world itself seemed to reject.
Miss Mizuki's voice was calm, but each word weighed heavily. "From here on, we move with absolute caution. Assume they're watching. Listening."
Taru's white eyes scanned the terrain ahead, flickers of lightning dancing under his skin—suppressed, waiting. "There's a presence here. Heavy. Old."
"I feel it too," said Kaito, his steps slower now. He couldn't explain it, but something in his chest pulled taut—like the forest had turned into a coiled beast watching with unseen eyes.
Renn, ever composed, knelt and touched the ground. "Tracks. Heavy boots. Seven… maybe eight people passed here. Recent. We're not far behind them."
Kazuki cracked his knuckles. "Let them come. I'm done with chasing shadows."
"Don't be reckless," Himari said, her tone sharper than usual. "We're not here to die trying."
"Speak for yourself," muttered Kazuki, but he said no more.
The narrow path split ahead—one part led into a steep descent laced with bone-carved totems; the other twisted upward into fog-choked cliffs. Miss Mizuki frowned, clearly analyzing.
"We'll split," she decided. "Renn, Taru, Kaito—you're with me. We take the lower pass. The rest climb. Stay in range. If anything happens, light a signal flare."
Kazuki scoffed. "You're trusting Akiho with flares?"
Akiho glared. "Try me."
They parted, each group disappearing into the misted paths like threads woven into a cursed tapestry.
---
Lower Path – Miss Mizuki's Group
The totems whispered.
Carved from bones, some human, some not—they pulsed faintly with a reddish glow, etched with symbols none of them could read. Even Miss Mizuki avoided touching them.
"They're warning markers," she said. "But not to keep people out. To keep something in."
Renn walked ahead, fingers lightly brushing his training blade's hilt. "They don't feel like just bone. They're watching."
Kaito's hand twitched. His breath was heavier here, harder to control. "What is this place?"
Taru paused beside a totem, narrowing his eyes. "There's something beneath us."
As if on cue, the ground trembled. Not violently—but a slow, hungry shift.
A groan.
Then silence.
They moved again, more alert than ever.
---
Upper Path – Kazuki's Group
The air was colder here. The rocks were slick, and the fog stung the eyes. But even through the biting wind, Akiho's senses flared.
"Stop," he hissed. "Look."
They did.
Shadowed against the cliffside—half-buried, half-consumed—was a ruined structure, like a shrine fused with some infernal machine. Tubes ran from the base, draining into the earth like veins. Inside, silhouettes twitched in containment.
Erina clutched her scarf. "Those are people… children."
Kazuki stepped forward, fists tightening. "Hollow Gale bastards…"
Himari grabbed his arm. "We need to think. What if this is a trap?"
Akiho clenched his jaw. "Then we find a way to spring it on them."
---
Elsewhere… in a chamber lit by red glass
A man leaned over a balcony, watching projections of the forest on a mirrored surface.
His voice was smooth. Detached.
"They've entered the Fold."
Another figure appeared behind him, masked. "The resonance in Subject Thirteen has stabilized. Should we deploy him?"
The man turned—half his face burned, the other perfectly calm.
"Not yet. Let them bleed first. Then we release the storm."
They hadn't meant to find it.
From where the underpath twisted into shadow and bone-carved watchtowers, Taru, Kaito, Renn, and Miss Mizuki crouched beneath a jagged outcrop. Cold earth pressed against their knees. No one moved. No one breathed too loudly.
Then they saw them.
Hollow Gale foot soldiers—six, maybe more—dragging something heavy and frail through the dust-choked path below. Shackles clinked with every step. One of the masked men held a glowing spear that thrummed with Venin, blue sparks dancing at its tip. The other prodded what looked like a girl bound at the wrists and ankles, her uniform tattered beyond recognition, hair tangled, her face bruised and half-hidden beneath grime.
But it was her voice, low and cracked, that broke the silence.
"...stop pulling… I can walk…"
One soldier laughed. "Don't get used to it. You won't be walking much longer, Test Subject 9."
Then the second voice added with cruel ease:
"Enjoy your last walk, Ayaka."
Taru froze.
His heart dropped like a stone hurled from the cliffside.
Ayaka.
Kaito's head snapped toward him instantly. Renn went stiff, eyes narrowing.
Miss Mizuki whispered, "What is it?"
Taru's breath caught in his throat. "That name… That was the first name I remembered calling my sister. I thought—maybe it was Airi, or Mika, but—"
"You remembered wrong," Kaito said, his tone urgent, "because your instincts remembered right. That's her, Taru."
Below, Ayaka stumbled. One of the soldiers yanked her chain cruelly and dragged her back up.
"We move now," Taru muttered, standing without thinking.
Miss Mizuki yanked him down just in time, eyes flaring with warning. "No. They outnumber us. And worse, they're organized."
"She's my sister."
"And if you go now, they'll kill her before you even land a hit. Listen to me, Taru."
His eyes burned, fingers trembling with restrained lightning. His power quivered beneath his skin like caged flame.
Renn placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "We will get her. But not like this. Let them lead us. She's the key to more than just your past."
Below, the soldiers moved forward, unaware that eyes full of fury and grief watched their every step.
One of them muttered, "Can't wait to see how long this one lasts. If she's like the last girl, we'll need a new tank by morning."
Ayaka didn't reply. But even at a distance, Kaito could see the pain on her face—and the quiet, unwavering fight still left in her.
Miss Mizuki's voice was cold now. "We follow at a distance. No mistakes. This is our path into the inner labs."
Taru wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his expression hardening.
And for the first time in years, the name he had long doubted returned with absolute clarity.
"Ayaka," he whispered.
"I'm coming."
The entrance they followed the guards into wasn't built like anything natural. It looked grown—twisted branches merged with rusted steel, bone-infused vines climbing the sides of the gate like veins. Whatever lay beyond that doorway was not just a base—it was alive.
From their vantage point above the ridge, Kaito could hear every clang of the prison doors below, every scream that didn't sound fully human. Taru gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching as embers and sparks danced unconsciously between his knuckles.
They waited until the soldiers passed through the main doors dragging Ayaka, and the forest consumed the sound of their boots. Only then did Miss Mizuki lead them forward, moving with uncanny silence and precision. She raised a single hand, and the others froze.
A strange pulse of energy passed through the air.
Kaito blinked. "You feel that?"
"An alarm ward," Miss Mizuki murmured. "Embedded into the roots. If we pass through without disabling it—"
"I got it," Renn interrupted. He stepped forward and crouched near the writhing roots. With precise, whisper-soft gestures, he carved sigils into the dirt with the tip of his finger. A gust of wind flickered outward and extinguished the arcane pulse.
"Done," he said.
Kaito raised an eyebrow. "Where'd you learn that?"
Renn didn't answer. His eyes were already on the next passage.
They entered the Hollow Cradle through a side breach in the structure—old, forgotten, likely meant for waste disposal or hidden maintenance. But it was still guarded. Two patrols. A rotating sentry above the second gate.
They moved in tandem like shadows.
Miss Mizuki silenced the first guard with a precise jab to a nerve cluster beneath the chin. Renn took the other with a sweep of wind that dropped the man without a sound. Kaito and Taru secured the sentries' weapons.
They finally entered the inner sanctum.
What they saw changed everything.
Rows of cells lined with glass and humming wires. Some contained young people—children—tied in harnesses, tubes running from their arms to venomous-looking machines. The air smelled of chemicals and rot. Laughter echoed from above, a mockery of human joy.
On one screen, a Hollow Gale officer tapped away on a console. His face was partially hidden beneath his hood, but Taru didn't care. His gaze found Ayaka—strapped to an operating table, arms restrained, her breathing shallow but steady.
Kaito's fists clenched. "We have to move. Now."
"No," Mizuki snapped. "There's too many. But I see a control node. Disable that, and the doors will unlock."
"I'll go," Taru said.
"I'll back him," Kaito added.
Renn nodded. "I'll take care of the upper scouts. Keep their attention off you."
Miss Mizuki looked between them, then drew a small crystal from her pouch. "This is a flare stone. You activate this when you're ready to move, and I'll breach the main chamber."
Taru didn't wait. He moved along the steel beams above the chamber, lightning coursing silently through his body as he focused. Kaito followed beside him, fire barely contained in his chest.
Below, the technician turned toward Ayaka.
"Time for your next sync calibration, Subject 9. Let's see what rare power your blood holds."
Taru's breath caught.
"Now," Kaito whispered.
They jumped.
Fire and lightning exploded midair, not as destruction, but as light and momentum.
Taru landed on the technician first, slamming him to the ground with a fist full of voltage. Kaito sliced the restraints off Ayaka with heated precision, catching her as she fell forward.
Her eyes fluttered open.
"K-Kaito?"
He smiled. "We've got you."
"Taru?" she murmured.
Her brother's hands shook as he held her face gently. "You're safe now. I swear it."
But the system klaxons began blaring.
Miss Mizuki's voice came through the communicator. "You set off a failsafe. You've got ten minutes. No more."
Renn's voice followed, distorted by static. "I'll cover the outer hall. Get her out—now!"
Taru scooped Ayaka into his arms, her body trembling but alive.
Kaito led the way, fire swirling faintly at his heels.
And above them, red lights filled the Hollow Cradle.
They weren't just escaping now.
They were starting a war.
Then the alarms triggered the person who walked out of the smoke was no other than togaki takashi renns brother
The moon hung bloodred over the Hollow Gale's territory, casting its cursed light upon broken trees and ash-covered ruins. In the center of the chaos stood two figures—one cloaked in wind, the other in malice.
Renn Takashi narrowed his eyes. His stance was calm but coiled, like the hush before a storm. Across from him, Togaki, clad in charred armor and bearing two curved blades, walked slowly forward, his steps deliberate. The soldiers around them knew better than to intervene. This was not just a battle. It was a reckoning.
"This is the third and final time we'll ever fight," Togaki said. His voice was low, tinged with tired resolve. "One of us has to die."
Renn's fingers flexed slightly. Wind danced around his shoulders. "Then let's just settle this once and for all."
No more words. The air cracked.
Togaki struck first—blades flashing, faster than mortal eyes could follow. But Renn, wind-born and battle-scarred, dodged with graceful precision, sliding beneath the first slash and deflecting the second with a gust-formed shield. His counterattack was immediate: a sweep of his leg sent a pulse of compressed wind toward Togaki's chest.
Togaki raised a blade, splitting the gust, and lunged. The ground shattered where he landed, his momentum carrying him into a flurry of spinning strikes. Renn matched each movement, barely parrying, his arms bruising under the onslaught.
He leapt back and thrust both hands forward. The air screamed.
Dozens of wind-formed spears shot forward like silver rain. Togaki spun, his blades a blur. Metal clanged against wind. Some spears shattered against his defense, but one struck his thigh, another sliced his shoulder. He didn't flinch. Blood painted the ground.
Togaki launched forward, blade low. Renn barely ducked—and as he did, Togaki twisted and brought the second blade down. It grazed Renn's back, a shallow but burning cut.
Renn hissed and jumped away, landing beside a crooked boulder. His chest rose and fell. His wind wrapped around his arms now, thick and alive.
"I remember when you hesitated," Togaki spat. "You're not that boy anymore. But you're still not ready to kill me."
"I don't have to be ready. I just have to win."
The two clashed again. This time the earth split beneath their feet.
Renn drew the wind tighter, forming twin gauntlets of storm-forged force. He struck with his fists, breaking Togaki's rhythm. One punch to the gut. Another to the ribs. Togaki grunted, spat blood, but grinned. He slashed upward, cutting across Renn's chest.
Both staggered.
Their next clash was silent. A blur of movement. Parry. Dodge. Kick. Wind against steel.
Flesh against pain. It was not just a battle of strength. It was the final crescendo of a symphony written in grief and fury.
Renn saw flashes—his brother walking away, leaving him in the flames. Togaki saw only his own hands soaked in red, a past too far gone to fix.
Togaki suddenly roared and unleashed a shockwave of raw Venin. Renn was hurled back, crashing through a wall of stone. Smoke filled the space.
Renn's body trembled—but he stood.
"For the people you tortured," Renn said, voice shaking, "for everything you did to Ayaka… I'll end this."
He raised both hands. The wind screamed.
But then—Renn hesitated, just for a second. He stared into his brother's eyes.
And saw ghosts.
A memory seized him.
The clatter of wooden blades. A sunny courtyard in the old Takashi residence. Togaki grinning, holding out his hand to a younger Renn who lay flat on the ground.
"Get up, little brother. You won't beat me if you keep fighting like a puppy."
Renn, panting, took his brother's hand with a grin of his own. "Then I'll just learn how to bite harder."
He blinked. The present returned.
Togaki lunged again.
Renn ducked under the strike and swept to the side, countering with a gust of focused wind—but his heart staggered.
"You were the one who said we'd protect each other," Renn growled, voice choked with anger. "You said we'd always fight back-to-back!"
Another flash—
Both of them huddled under a table during the thunderstorm. Their parents arguing in the next room. Togaki placing a hand on Renn's shoulder.
"Don't listen to them. As long as you've got me, no one's hurting you."
That warmth. That promise.
Togaki's eyes narrowed now, expression unreadable beneath the pale scar running down his cheek. "That boy is gone," he said coldly. "You're clinging to ashes."
But Renn didn't back down.
"You became what we feared, Togaki! You didn't lose yourself—you chose this!"
The blades collided again, and this time Renn shouted, tears burning behind his eyes. "Why!? Why didn't you come back!?"
Togaki didn't answer immediately. He kicked Renn back, stepping over scorched ground, his expression twisted—but not with anger.
Regret.
A pause. Wind whirled between them.
Then softly, almost too low to hear, Togaki spoke.
"Because if I came back… I would've had to face you."
Renn's breath caught in his throat.
Another memory—
The night their house burned. Renn searching the rubble, screaming his brother's name. The scent of smoke. The sound of sirens. The Hollow Gale insignia carved into the wall.
Togaki's pendant—the one he always wore—was the only thing left behind.
Renn clutched the same pendant now. He'd worn it ever since.
Their blades collided with a deafening crash, wind and metal shrieking in the hollow corridors.
Togaki roared, unleashing a savage flurry of strikes with both katanas, each swing fueled by years of rage, guilt, and a need for resolution. The floor cracked beneath his feet. Sparks lit the walls like fireflies.
But Renn didn't falter.
His wind responded—not as a storm of chaos, but as a refined current, flowing with calm intent. His every step was controlled, every movement a dance of precision.
Renn sidestepped a sweeping blow and pivoted low, channeling wind into a solid arc that cut upward, flinging Togaki back. Togaki crashed into a pillar, coughing blood, but stood again—eyes burning.
"I taught you that move," he hissed, wiping the blood from his lips.
"And now I've made it my own," Renn answered softly. "You taught me how to fight. But you also taught me how to protect."
Togaki dashed forward, twin blades glowing with Venin—dark lightning flickering around him.
Renn closed his eyes for one breath.
And awakened.
The wind exploded around him, wrapping his frame in translucent silver currents. It formed not armor, but an extension of his body—swords of compressed air swirling at his back, his hair lifted by the sheer force.
They clashed again.
Blow after blow. Slashes that fractured stone. Gusts that flung debris like shrapnel. The underground chamber trembled, veins of power cracking across its walls.
Togaki roared. "You think you're strong enough to carry the weight!? You don't know what I've done!"
"I do!" Renn's voice cracked with pain and resolve. "I saw your file. I read what they made you do. But you still had a choice!"
Their final clash was wordless.
Renn spun through the air, blades of wind forming a spiraling cyclone around him. Togaki met it with a Venin surge of lightning-infused fury.
When the storm ended—
Renn stood behind him.
His wind blade faded.
Togaki slowly dropped to his knees, a long wound across his side, his breathing shallow. His swords fell with a hollow clang.
"…You've grown," he murmured, a bitter smirk curling at his lips. "You really surpassed me."
Renn knelt slowly, chest rising and falling. His voice trembled.
"You were already gone… but I needed to see it through."
Blood trickled from Togaki's lips. He looked up at the ceiling, the faint shimmer of energy casting shadows across the chamber.
"I kept that pendant you gave me," he whispered. "Even when I fell.so why did you join them to torture me "
He reached out, weak fingers brushing against Renn's sleeve.
"I'm sorry, little brother."
And with one last exhale, Togaki's hand slipped away.
Silence.
Renn sat there, knees on the cold floor, shoulders trembling. He looked down at the pendant their family's symbol still clenched in his palm.
This wasn't a victory.
It was a farewell.