"A sword is not just steel. It carries the weight of every life it has taken."
The blade felt heavier than it should have.
Not in weight—in presence.
It hummed softly in Rei's grip, a soundless vibration that thrummed beneath his fingertips, sinking into his bones. It was the same as before, the same sword he had wielded in war—but it wasn't.
Something had changed.
Or maybe… he was the one who had changed.
The chamber around him felt smaller now, the air thick with the scent of old iron, incense, and something deeper—something like ash and regret.
The whispers had faded, but the silence they left behind was louder.
Like the sword was waiting.
Expecting something.
Demanding something.
Rei exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip.
It fit his hand too well. Too perfectly.
Like he had never let it go at all.
"This sword does not just cut. It devours."
Rei remembered those words.
Not his own.
Alistair's.
Spoken on the day Rei had first drawn this blade against another man—against another Exorcist.
"That thing is not a weapon. It's a curse.""
"And it will take everything from you."
And it had.
It had taken his home.
It had taken his future.
It had taken Aya.
No—he had taken Aya.
Because the moment he had chosen this sword, the moment he had allowed himself to wield it as something more than steel—her fate had been sealed.
"You left me behind, Rei."
His grip tightened.
His knuckles turned white against the crimson-wrapped hilt.
"You abandoned me."
He could still hear her voice.
Could still feel her eyes on him, lingering just beyond the edge of the firelight.
The dead did not walk in this world.
But ghosts?
Ghosts never left.
A sharp inhale.
The weight in his chest pulled him back to the present.
The shrine. The stone walls. The cold air pressing against his skin.
Ren was still standing near the entrance, arms crossed, one foot tapping against the cracked floor.
She hadn't moved.
Hadn't spoken.
Just watched.
Watched as he stood there, staring at the sword like it was something foreign—like he was afraid of it.
Finally, she sighed.
"You look like you're holding a dying animal."
Rei blinked.
His grip loosened slightly.
Ren tilted her head, her amber eyes sharp but unreadable.
"So," she said, voice casual but too careful. "Are you gonna keep standing there, or are we leaving?"
Rei exhaled, forcing his fingers to relax around the hilt.
"...We're leaving."
Ren nodded, pushing off the wall.
"Good. Because I was starting to get bored."
But as she turned toward the exit, Rei saw it—
The way her fingers lingered near the hilt of her own sword.
Not out of caution.
Out of expectation.
She was waiting.
Waiting for him to make a mistake.
Waiting to see if the man who had picked up this blade was still the same one she had been traveling with.
And the worst part?
Rei didn't know the answer.
They stepped out of the shrine, back into the crisp mountain air.
The Veilwalkers were still waiting.
The leader—the one with the silver-embroidered cloak—studied Rei carefully.
His gaze flickered to the sword.
Then, slowly, he smiled.
"Ah," he murmured. "So it has chosen you again."
Rei's jaw tightened.
"It never had a choice," he muttered.
The man chuckled.
"No," he agreed. "Neither did you."
Before Rei could respond, the man lifted his hand—a slow, casual motion, almost lazy.
And then—
Steel flashed.
Rei reacted before he even had time to think.
The blade moved on its own.
A whisper of metal cutting through the air.
A perfect arc—too fast, too smooth.
The Veilwalker took a single step back.
A single strand of silver hair drifted to the ground.
Silence.
Then—he grinned.
"Good," he murmured. "You haven't forgotten how to use it."
Rei exhaled slowly.
The sword in his grip was steady. Too steady.
Like it had never left him at all.
Ren let out a low whistle from behind him.
"Well," she muttered. "That answers that."
Rei didn't respond.
Because in that moment, as the mountain winds howled and the weight of Muramasa settled once more into his hands—
He knew.
This was only the beginning.