"Did you plant the blade as ordered?" The man, shrouded in shadow, asked, his voice low and ominous, like the stillness before a storm.
His eyes, barely visible through the veil of darkness, glowed faintly, as if they were the only thing alive in the room. The air felt charged, thick with a tension that seemed to seep from the very walls.
Lothar bowed deeply, his head hanging so low that his forehead almost touched the cold stone beneath him.
His body was rigid with fear, his hands trembling uncontrollably, fingers slick with cold sweat. He dared not meet the man's gaze, his heart pounding in his chest like a drumbeat. "Yes…" he whispered, his voice barely a breath, heavy with nervousness.
"The boy saw the blade, although we didn't expect the young lady to bring him in…"
Lothar paused for a moment, gathering what little courage he had left.
Slowly, a proud smile began to tug at the corners of his lips, though his excitement was laced with the undercurrent of anxiety. His voice, once hesitant, now carried the faintest trace of triumph.
Eager to prove his worth, he attempted to rise, but his legs buckled beneath him, unsteady from the overwhelming weight of the situation. "Other than that, your predictions were perfect, my lord! The blade chose him! It actually—"
"You fool!" The man's voice shattered the air, a violent crack of thunder that echoed through Lothar's mind and left him reeling. The force of the words was like a physical blow, striking him so hard that his body involuntarily jerked backward. Lothar's breath caught in his throat, and his knees nearly gave way beneath him. The power behind the voice was overwhelming, a reminder of how small and insignificant he truly was in the presence of the shadowed figure.
"I knew that sniveling girl would bring him in all those years ago!" The man's tone was frigid, each word dripping with venom, a cold certainty that seemed to emanate from his very being.
His voice was like ice, and there was a malice in it that sent shivers crawling up Lothar's spine. It was as if the man had orchestrated every move in this game long before Lothar had even realized the stakes.
"R-really?" Lothar stammered, his voice faltering as he tried to process the magnitude of what was being said. His thoughts raced, struggling to keep up with the dark brilliance of his lord's foresight. His fingers clenched at his sides, his hands still trembling in fear, though the tremors now felt like a mixture of awe and dread. He felt exposed, vulnerable, like a pawn who had just realized how much power his king truly wielded.
"Yes," the shadowed figure replied, his voice thick with the weight of his machinations, the dark undertones of a plan set in motion long ago. "And it's only a matter of time before we can take advantage of the boy… young Fushiguro." His words lingered in the air, heavy and ominous, as if the very mention of Fushiguro carried an unseen force that would shape the fate of everything.
______________________________________________________________________
"Are you ready, Fushiguro-dono?" one of my men whispered, his eyes searching mine for any trace of doubt or hesitation.
I stared at the battlefield ahead, where their flag rose high—a bold challenge to the heavens, a defiant symbol of their resolve.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I muttered, stepping forward to take the lead. I pushed past my men on horseback, their eyes fixed on me as they held our flag aloft.
It was a banner of blue waves, crashing and restless—mirroring the waters encircling our land. The wind tore at it, snapping sharply in the cold, unforgiving air. The gods themselves seemed to frown upon us, mourning the blood that would soon stain the soil.
But their disappointment meant nothing.
I let out a soft sigh, steadying myself for the war to come. I could feel it—everything. The weight of tension in the air. The labored breathing of my soldiers. The restless horses pawing at the earth, eager to charge. Behind me, the faint creak of bows as the archers prepared their arrows.
The battlefield awaited. My blade… awaited.
"Kiyohime," I chanted softly to myself, feeling its radiant glow ignite within my grasp as I unsheathed it in one fluid motion.
(Show them your worth…)
There it was again—the voice, calling out to me. It urged me forward, tempting me to wield its power and unleash devastation.
"Charge!" I roared, my voice reverberating like a thunderclap across the plains. My soldiers cried out in unison, their war cries merging with the thunder of galloping hooves. Even the horses roared, their ferocity matching our own.
The drums of liberation thundered, breathing life into the battlefield! My men charged past me as I watched on from behind, my gaze cold and calculated.
The enemy showed off their might, their horns blaring over our cry as we collided. Arrows flew over us like meteorites, blades cleaving the body of our enemies, feeding on their blood to quell their thirst! It was a raging fire of emotions, the chaos of uncertain flames as the tides of battle crushed against each other like a raging typhoon! Hoping to overwhelm the other side in any way possible!
(Show them… show them!)
I rest the blade at my side, taking my first steps to the battlefield; the soil already softened with our crimson.
My men made a path for me, taking on whoever deemed themselves foolish enough to cross My path, my stride, remained unbroken among them—unyielding, steady—until I came to a halt.
"Kiyohime! Rip and tear!!" I bellowed, my voice a furious crescendo, as the last of my allied samurai scattered, desperate to escape the hellish wrath I had unleashed. The earth itself seemed to convulse beneath me, cracks splitting open as searing infernos erupted from the very ground, flames shooting up into the sky like monstrous pillars of rage. My hair whipped around, driven by the raw power of the storm I had summoned, strands of it burning at the edges, as if even the wind feared the force of my fury.
With a guttural growl, I raised my sword high, my grip tightening as the flames howled around me, wild and untamed. My teeth ground together, a snarl twisting my face, as the inferno began to bend and twist under my control. The air thickened with heat, the scent of sulfur and burning flesh searing into my senses.
"Obliterate my enemies!" I roared, my voice an unstoppable force. Scales started to form on my tanned skin as the inferno surged, its wild frenzy becoming an extension of my will, twisting and warping like a living thing. In a heartbeat, it imploded, the flames collapsing in on themselves in a vicious explosion, a thunderous roar splitting the sky. The world around me flickered with an intense, blinding light, orange and red streaks of fire illuminating the battlefield, as lightning crackled through the air like vengeful spirits. The ground trembled, the very heavens seeming to scream in agony as the earth itself was consumed in flame and fury, leaving nothing in its wake once it had dispersed.
(You did well…)
It spoke, it's whisper like a hiss within my ear, a snake of temptation eating out at my mind.
(don't let them walk over you…never let them walk over you…)
Right… Understood…
(They're dirt, nothing more. Step on them just as they have—)
My breath remained shaky, my hand trembling around the blade I was destined to wield.
(You're doing perfect…so perfect)
Mother…
(I'm so…so proud of you.)