Episode I - Paths

Murokai and Susake circled the lone swordsman like wolves closing in on a wounded deer, their movements synchronized, fluid, and methodical. The arena around them buzzed with chaotic energy—boisterous cheers, drunken laughter, and the clinking of silver coins exchanged on hastily made bets. The crowd wanted blood. The twins, champions of the pit, intended to deliver it.

The stranger, shrouded in layers of fabric and shadow, remained still. He was an enigma—a figure who came and went like the wind, no name, no face, only a reputation that whispered of invincibility. The bamboo mat tilted over his face betrayed nothing, and the three swords strapped to his back, untouched in countless fights, only deepened the mystery.

But this was Odo's death arena, and the twins—masters of the Noma-gan-sen martial art and wielders of the paths of Lust and Greed—were not to be underestimated. They had crushed every opponent they faced, their victories swift, brutal, and decisive.

With a nod to each other, the brothers struck.

Murokai surged forward, his katana arcing upward in a vicious swing meant to disembowel, while Susake blurred into motion, his blade descending like a guillotine from above. Their timing was impeccable, their paths amplifying their speed and strength to supernatural levels.

But the stranger moved.

There was no flourish, no wasted motion. He leaned back ever so slightly, Murokai's blade slicing harmlessly past his chest, while his left foot shifted just enough for Susake's strike to miss his shoulder by a hair's breadth. It was as if he had predicted their attacks before they even began.

Then, he struck.

The stranger's fist connected with Murokai's neck in a brutal, precise blow that sent him sprawling to the ground. Before Susake could react, a kick caught him under the jaw, lifting him off his feet and throwing him backward in a graceless tumble.

The crowd erupted in disbelief, their cheers and jeers blending into a deafening roar.

The stranger did not follow up. Instead, he lowered himself onto the ground in the center of the arena, crossing his legs as if settling into meditation. His silence and stillness were maddening, taunting. He tilted his head slightly, waiting.

The twins rose slowly, blood trickling from their lips, their pride stinging more than their wounds. This time, their auras flared to life, a palpable force that made the air around them feel heavy.

Murokai's path, Lust, manifested as a crimson haze, his body swelling with berserk power. Susake's path, Greed, was subtler—a sharp hum of speed that made him blur at the edges, his form flickering like a mirage. Together, their demon chi surged, cracking the ground beneath their feet.

Murokai charged low, his berserker strength turning his strikes into devastating swings that could crush stone. Susake took to the air, his blade moving faster than the eye could follow.

The stranger rose, his movements impossibly calm. For the first time, his hand moved to the hilt of one of his swords.

The crowd fell silent as the blade left its sheath.

A pure white katana gleamed in the dim arena light, its surface almost glowing.

"Impossible..." someone whispered. "That looks like a White Serpent. But it was lost decades ago!"

The stranger moved.

His blade met Murokai's strength head-on, deflecting the berserker's strikes with a precision that sent shockwaves rippling through the arena. Susake's blinding speed was useless; every slash, every strike was met with a parry or sidestep, the stranger's movements fluid and effortless.

The twins broke off, breathing heavily, their frustration mounting.

"End this!" Murokai snarled, his voice guttural.

The brothers raised their blades in unison, their demon chi converging. Crimson and gold energy spiraled together, forming a massive sphere of destructive power.

The crowd erupted in chaos.

"He's finished!" a drunk roared.

"No one survives the Noma-gan-sen!"

The energy blast exploded from the twins' combined attack, a searing beam of light that obliterated everything in its path. The ground shook violently, cracks spidering out from the impact. Dust and debris filled the air, the shockwave sending the nearest onlookers stumbling back.

When the dust settled, the crowd froze.

The stranger stood untouched, his white blade gleaming. The blast had been cleaved cleanly in two, its destructive energy dissipated harmlessly around him.

Murokai's face twisted in disbelief. "No... no one can..."

The stranger moved faster than the eye could track. One moment he was standing still; the next, he was behind Murokai. A bone-shattering kick to the back sent the larger twin sprawling, unconscious.

Susake barely had time to turn before a devastating elbow strike connected with his chest, the force dropping him to his knees. He gasped for air, his vision swimming, before collapsing beside his brother.

The arena fell silent, the only sound the faint hum of the stranger's blade as it returned to its sheath.

Without a word, the stranger walked to the overseer's table, collected his winnings, and strode toward the exit.

In the shadows of the arena, a pair of eyes followed his every move. The figure smirked, their interest piqued.

The stranger had just stepped onto a far more dangerous path.