BLOOD OATH "Rise of The Silent Blade "

The Prince of Allegiance

They moved through the valley like phantoms.

Kairo’s wounds still throbbed beneath the fresh wrappings Ayame had secured over his ribs, but he pushed forward without complaint. Pain was familiar now. Expected. It sharpened his senses like a whetstone on a blade.

Ayame walked beside him, light on her feet, scanning the path with sharp eyes and an ever-present half-smirk on her lips. She whistled a soft tune as if they weren’t being hunted by elite assassins from the most feared sect in the realm.

“You always this cheerful when walking into potential death?” Kairo asked.

“Only when I’m with good company,” she replied. “And you, my dear ex-assassin, are a walking invitation to chaos.”

He didn’t respond. Not verbally. But something in his expression softened.

Their destination was clear: Ravenspire, an outlaw town tucked between the jaws of two blackened cliffs. No kings ruled there. No laws applied. Only the strong thrived. And more importantly, Ravenspire was the only place Kairo could find the next name on the scroll.

Daisuke Jin.

The man was a former high elder of the Shadow Sect. A tactician. Ruthless. Strategic. And above all, paranoid. After faking his own death years ago, he vanished into the underground, resurfacing only when it benefited him. Rumor had it he was holed up in Ravenspire, selling secrets to the highest bidder.

Kairo wasn’t coming to buy anything.

He was coming for the truth.

As they approached the outskirts, Ayame raised her hood and nodded toward a crumbling stone archway that marked the border.

“Welcome to Ravenspire,” she muttered. “Where everyone’s hiding something and trust gets you killed faster than a dull blade.”

Kairo stepped through the threshold, immediately assaulted by noise. Ravenspire was chaos incarnate—smoke curled from crooked chimneys, merchants shouted over each other, and mercenaries lined the alleys like vultures on rooftops.

Every face they passed had a scar. A burn. A story.

No one looked twice at Kairo. That was the beauty of this place. No one cared who you were—as long as you didn’t draw attention.

Or spill too much blood.

Ayame led him down a narrow alley that twisted like a serpent through the town’s rotten core. At the end stood a tavern, its wooden sign hanging by one chain, the words "The Hollow Fang" barely visible under grime.

Inside, the air was thick with ale, smoke, and tension. Eyes flicked up as they entered, then returned to their drinks.

Ayame leaned in. “Jin’s got a room upstairs. You’re sure you’re ready?”

Kairo’s hand rested on the hilt of Voidfang. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

They climbed the stairs, boots silent on creaking wood. At the top was a single door, guarded by two brutes in leather armor.

“Private room,” one grunted.

“I’m not here for a drink,” Kairo said.

Before the man could reach for his blade, Kairo struck—quick, clean. The guard crumpled with a groan. The second drew his weapon but didn’t last two seconds against Ayame, who disarmed and knocked him out with a flick of her wrist.

Kairo kicked open the door.

The room inside was lavish—strange for a man supposedly in hiding. Silk drapes, gold fixtures, an entire wall lined with scrolls and maps. And seated at a polished table, nursing a glass of wine, was Daisuke Jin.

Older now. Gray streaks in his beard. But his eyes… they were just as calculating as the night the Ren household burned.

“Ah,” Jin said without looking up. “I wondered when you’d come.”

Kairo didn’t speak. He stepped forward, blade drawn, heart pounding.

“I see the sect finally pushed you over the edge,” Jin continued. “Tell me, was it the truth about your bloodline? Or the attempt on your life?”

Kairo’s jaw tightened. “You ordered the purge.”

Jin finally looked up. “No. I merely planned it.”

That was all Kairo needed to hear.

He lunged.

Jin moved faster than expected, drawing a hidden blade from beneath the table and parrying with unnatural speed. The clash of steel rang through the room.

“You were always their finest creation,” Jin hissed. “But you were never meant to survive.”

“I wasn’t meant to kneel either,” Kairo shot back.

The fight was brutal. Jin fought like a man who had danced with death and learned its rhythm. Every strike aimed for Kairo’s weak spots—his healing ribs, his blind side—but Kairo had learned something more important than form:

Will.

He took a hit to deliver one.

When Jin slashed at his side, Kairo let the blade graze him—just enough time to drive his elbow into Jin’s throat and twist his wrist, disarming him.

He had the old man pinned in seconds, blade at his throat.

“Give me a reason not to kill you,” Kairo growled.

Jin coughed, blood at the corner of his mouth. “Because I can give you what no one else can... a name.”

Kairo paused.

“Who?” he demanded.

Jin’s eyes gleamed. “The one who ordered the Ren bloodline wiped out. It wasn’t the high elders. It was LORD NAZAR. The Grand Shadow. The true leader of the sect. The one no one sees… and no one defies.”

The name struck like a hammer.

Lord Nazar—he was more myth than man. A ghost whispered in sect legends. But if Jin spoke the truth, then Kairo’s fight had only just begun.

Kairo let the blade slide just deep enough to draw blood, then pulled back.

Jin gasped, trembling. “You’ll never reach him. No one does.”

Kairo stood, eyes cold. “Then I’ll burn everything in my path until he comes to me.”

As he turned to leave, Ayame stepped into the doorway, brows raised. “So… we good?”

Kairo nodded once.

They were just getting started.