The rat died between Kaito's fingersHe squeezed until the tiny spine snapped, then dropped the carcass into his sack. One of twelve. Enough for a day's meal if he found a merchant willing to trade. Three would go to rent his corner of the alley. The rest he'd eat rawSurvival had a taste. It tasted like blood and desperation.Footsteps splashed through the puddles behind him. Kaito didn't turn. He knew the rhythm—heavy, uneven, the gait of a man who'd had too much rice wine and too little sleep. A harbor enforcer. One of Captain Daigo's dogs."Boy." The voice grated like stones grinding together. "You the one selling information about the Oda survivors?"Kaito's hand moved to his belt. His fingers found the hilt of a rusted knife—not his father's blade, too dangerous to carry openly. Just a piece of scrap metal he'd sharpened against a stone."Don't know what you're talking about," he said, keeping his voice flat.The enforcer laughed. "Liar. We've been watching you. You ask too many

Twenty survivors stood in a ragged line.Kaito counted them twice. Each face bore the same expression—relief mixed with fear. They'd passed the first test. But the culling wasn't over. It had only just begun.Commander Morita paced before them, his white robes pristine despite the rain. Behind him, the shattered remains of Kaito's testing orb still lay scattered across the courtyard."Congratulations," Morita said, his voice dripping with false warmth. "You've proven you have potential. Now you must prove you have the will to use it."He gestured toward the far end of the courtyard. A steel cage rose from the ground, its bars humming with cultivation energy. Inside, a massive boar pawed at the dirt. Its tusks were jagged, its eyes wild, and its core radiated a beast's raw fury."One of you will enter the cage," Morita announced. "You will fight the beast. You will kill it. Or you will die trying."The candidates exchanged nervous glances. Kaito studied the boar. Its power level was lo

The girl's grip on his arm was iron.Kaito's hand moved to his hidden knife. One quick motion. He'd done it before."Don't," she whispered. "They're watching."He froze. Her eyes flicked toward the dormitory window. Through the rain-streaked glass, he saw a silhouette—one of the senior initiates, standing motionless, observing."Who are you?" Kaito demanded, keeping his voice low."Not here." She released his arm and stepped back, her expression shifting to something neutral. "Meet me in the archives. Tomorrow. Dawn."Then she turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness as silently as she'd come.Kaito's heart pounded. His true name. She'd spoken his true name. That meant she knew. She knew everything.He didn't sleep that night.The archives were a labyrinth of stone and shadow.Kaito arrived at dawn, his body aching from exhaustion but his mind razor-sharp. The girl was already there, seated at a reading table surrounded by scrolls. Her back was to him, her braided hair t

The canal water tasted like iron and decay.Kaito pressed himself flat against the tunnel wall, his breath shallow, his heart hammering against his ribs. The footsteps echoed closer—three men, maybe four, their boots splashing through the stagnant water.He'd been running for hours. His legs burned. His core throbbed with the remnants of Yuki's cultivation pill, but the energy was fading fast."Spread out," a voice commanded. "He can't have gone far."Kaito recognized that voice. Commander Morita's lieutenant—a man named Captain Sato, whose face had been on every wanted poster in the Crimson Port.The hunters were closing in.Kaito's hand found his hidden knife. One blade against four trained soldiers. The odds were impossible.But the Testament didn't care about odds. It cared about blood.He slipped into a side tunnel, his movements silent. The water here was deeper, reaching his chest. He held the journal above his head, keeping it dry.Behind him, a soldier's voice rang out: "Trac

The training room smelled like sweat and blood.Kaito stood in the center of the circular chamber, his body aching from the previous day's ordeal. Shiori had insisted on starting his training immediately—no rest, no recovery, no excuses."The Testament is not a gift," she'd said, her voice cold as steel. "It's a weapon. And like any weapon, it must be mastered before it masters you."Now she circled him, her footsteps silent on the polished stone floor. In her hand, she held a wooden training blade—plain, unadorned, but humming with contained energy."Your father was a master of the Testament," Shiori continued. "He could kill a hundred men without breaking a sweat. But he also understood the cost. Every death feeds the hunger. Every kill makes it harder to resist."Kaito's jaw tightened. "I know the cost.""Do you?" She stopped in front of him, her eyes boring into his. "You've killed four men. Four lives extinguished by your hand. How many more will you take before you lose yourself