Seijuro trailed behind the crowd, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression caught somewhere between annoyance and boredom. He had no clue where he was going, but judging by the flow of students, he assumed they were all headed to the same place.
"For the most prestigious martial arts school in the world, you'd think they'd invest in some signs. Or, I don't know, an orientation? Something?" he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he dodged the occasional bump from other students. Most of them moved in tight-knit groups, chatting excitedly, but Sei remained alone, his imposing height and aloof demeanor warding off any potential attempts at conversation.
The air buzzed with anticipation, students exchanging nervous glances and hushed whispers as they walked. Sei's own thoughts wandered, his eyes scanning the sprawling campus. The Academy's grandeur was undeniable. The pathways were lined with cherry blossoms that formed a natural canopy, their petals drifting lazily through the air. Towering buildings loomed in the distance, their ornate facades gleaming under the sun.
It was hard not to feel a little awed. But Sei, being Sei, wasn't about to admit that out loud.
"Ten thousand years of history, and they still don't have a map app," he grumbled under his breath.
Just as he was starting to get lost in his own sarcasm, the crowd suddenly came to an abrupt stop. A ripple of murmurs spread through the students like wildfire, their collective attention fixed on something ahead.
"What now?" Sei muttered, craning his neck. At 6'2", he had a natural advantage, and it didn't take long for him to spot the source of the commotion.
Hovering a meters above the ground was a figure—a man who looked far too composed to be human. He wasn't just floating; he was practically commanding the air around him.
"Is he… flying?" someone whispered, their voice laced with disbelief.
"No way. That's impossible!" another replied, though their tone suggested they weren't entirely convinced.
The crowd erupted into a flurry of murmurs and gasps. Sei squinted, his sharp eyes locking onto the figure in question. The man had a commanding presence that was impossible to ignore. His tall, muscular frame exuded strength, and his neatly combed black hair added an air of sophistication. One rogue strand fell rebelliously across his forehead, softening his otherwise stern and chiseled features.
He wore a uniform similar to the other students, but it was clearly a cut above. A long black coat with rich purple accents draped over his shoulders, the fabric flowing like a cape as he floated effortlessly. Beneath it, a sleek black shirt hugged his frame, the entire ensemble radiating authority.
But what stood out most was the kanji emblazoned in bold strokes on the back of his coat: 王無敵.
The whispers around him grew louder, tinged with awe and disbelief.
"Who is that? Is he a student or something?" a boy asked, his voice cracking.
"You seriously don't know?!" a girl shot back, clearly offended. "The kangi at the back of his coat should be a dead give away. That's Ryu Takahashi, the Ōmukashi! The Unrivaled King of our generation!"
The title seemed to ripple through the crowd, leaving stunned silence in its wake before erupting into a chorus of admiration.
"Ryu Takahashi? The Ryu Takahashi?"
"He's the youngest person in history to be granted the title of Ōmukashi! They say he's already mastered every Shindō taught here. And he's only 20!"
"Unreal… I didn't think I'd actually get to see him!"
Sei listened to the chatter with a raised brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. The title of Ōmukashi wasn't something to take lightly. It was reserved for a single student in each Academy's generation, the one deemed unparalleled in skill, strength, and mastery of their Reitō. For most, earning the title was a lifelong ambition, often only achieved by martial artists in their thirties or forties—if at all.
But here stood Ryu Takahashi, embodying the title with effortless grace, his mere presence commanding respect.
Sei's gaze lingered on Ryu, but not out of admiration. There was something else. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
"It's his Reitō," Sei thought, his brow furrowing. His ability to sense Reitō had always been sharper than most, and what he felt from Ryu was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. It wasn't just bright—it was blinding. A flame so intense it seemed to burn away the very air around it.
Sei swallowed, a bead of sweat forming on his brow despite the cool breeze. "Damn… it's like staring into the sun," he muttered under his breath.
The sheer intensity of Ryu's Reito sent a thrill of adrenaline coursing through Sei's veins. He wasn't sure whether to feel excited or terrified, but one thing was certain: this was no ordinary man.
Ryu's eyes swept over the crowd, his stern expression unchanging as he descended slowly to the ground. The murmurs quieted, replaced by an almost reverent silence. His voice, when he finally spoke, was deep and commanding.
The air buzzed with anticipation as Ryu floated high above the gathered students. His commanding presence demanded attention, and when he finally spoke, his voice reverberated through the air with an eerie clarity, as though he stood right next to each person.
"Welcome," he began, his tone carrying both authority and an almost chilling calmness, "to the Three Divine Academies."
The chatter of the crowd ceased instantly. It was as if his voice itself carried a power that silenced all else. Every eye was on him, and not a single student dared to even shift their stance for fear of missing a single word.
"You stand here today," Ryu continued, "brought together by differing ambitions, dreams, and ideals. Yet all of you share a singular purpose: to grow and become strong Reitōka. To rise above mediocrity. To become true practitioners of Reitō." His words were precise, each one punctuated with a weight that left the students awestruck.
He extended his arms outward, the tailored coat with its purple accents billowing slightly. The kanji on his back, gleamed faintly in the sunlight.
"Here, within the walls of this academies," he continued, "you will find unparalleled opportunities. The finest training facilities, the most knowledgeable teachers, and the ancient wisdom of our craft. Everything you need to rise to the pinnacle of your potential."
Seijuro Matsuda stood amidst the sea of students, hands in his pockets as usual, but his normally laid-back demeanor had shifted. His gaze was locked on Ryu, and beneath the calm surface, his heart thudded with a mixture of anticipation and unease. There was something about Ryu's Reitō.
It wasn't just strong—it was terrifying.
The rest of the students were blinded by his allure however.
But as the crowd listened in awe, Ryu's tone grew sharper, cutting through the air like a blade. "However," he said, his stern gaze sweeping across the students, "strength is not handed out freely. To earn your place here, you must first prove your worth. This is not a sanctuary for the weak or the faint-hearted. To be a Reitōka is to walk a path of constant peril, one where your life may be demanded at any moment."
A ripple of unease spread through the crowd. Whispers began to rise, but Ryu silenced them with a glare so icy it sent chills down their spines.
"To properly enroll in this academy," he declared, "you will first undergo a trial. You will face the Kyokugai."
The name alone sent shockwaves through the crowd.
"The Kyokugai?!" one student exclaimed, her voice quivering with disbelief. "But that's a forbidden realm! Isn't it only used by advanced Reitōka?!"
Another chimed in, panic creeping into his tone. "They can't seriously expect us to survive in there! It's suicide!"
Seijuro glanced around at the growing murmurs of fear. He'd heard of the Kyokugai in passing—an ancient pocket dimension said to have been crafted by the earliest masters of Reitō. It was a place of relentless danger, where practitioners honed their skills under the most extreme conditions. A crucible where only the strong emerged alive.
Ryu, unfazed by the rising panic, raised a hand. The crowd immediately fell silent again, his mere gesture enough to command obedience.
"You are correct," he said. "The true Kyokugai is far beyond the capabilities of first-years. However," he paused, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "the academies have developed a new technology—an Artificial Kyokugai. A simulated training ground tailored to test newcomers while remaining within survivable parameters... for the most part."
His words hung ominously in the air.
"The rules are simple," Ryu continued. "You will be transported to a replica of the city—one resembling Tokyo, albeit in a state of apocalyptic ruin. Your task is to earn as many points as possible by defeating the Nephoms that roam the city. These creatures, while considered weak by academy standards, will still require every ounce of your skill and wit to overcome."
A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread once again.
"And one more thing," Ryu added, his tone dropping a degree colder. "Should you fail to earn points, it will only prove that you were unworthy of this academy."
Seijuro stiffened slightly at the declaration. Around him, students began to glance nervously at one another. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Prepare yourselves," Ryu said, his voice a final, unyielding command. "Your trial begins now."
Before anyone could react, a sudden wave of energy surged through the crowd. The world around Seijuro warped and twisted, colors blending together like paint on a canvas. His stomach flipped, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer on the academy grounds.
He stumbled slightly as his feet hit solid ground, finding himself standing in the middle of what looked like a desolate Tokyo. Skyscrapers loomed overhead, their windows shattered and their steel frames twisted. Cars lay abandoned in the streets, some overturned, others burned out. A thick, eerie fog blanketed the city, and an oppressive silence hung in the air.
"Well," Seijuro muttered, cracking a grin despite the grim surroundings, "this is... cozy."
The sound of distant growls reached his ears, low and guttural, like predators catching the scent of prey. His grin widened, a strange mix of excitement and anticipation bubbling within him.
While others around him screamed or froze in fear, Seijuro's eyes gleamed with a reckless determination.
"This," he murmured, feeling his pulse quicken, "is going to be fun."
Far off in the distance, shadowy forms began to emerge from the fog—twisted, monstrous figures with glowing red eyes. The Nephoms were coming.
And Seijuro Matsuda couldn't wait to meet them.