STEEL LOTUS

The Hunter's Trai

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: "Tracks! He went this way."

Kaito ran.

The tunnel opened into a wider chamber where moonlight streamed through a rusted grate above. He could see the stars. Freedom.

But the grate was locked, and the soldiers were seconds behind him.

Kaito turned, his knife ready. The first soldier emerged from the tunnel, his eyes widening as he saw Kaito waiting.

"Surrender," the soldier said, raising his blade. "The commander wants you alive."

Kaito didn't answer. He moved.

The Testament surged through him, feeding on his desperation. His body felt lighter, faster. The *Sight of Ending* activated, showing him the soldier's death—a blade through the heart.

Kaito drove his knife forward.

The soldier fell.

The second soldier burst into the chamber, sword swinging. Kaito ducked, rolled, came up behind him. Another thrust. Another body hitting the water.

Two more. They'd heard the commotion.

Kaito's core burned. The Testament demanded more. He could feel the power growing, the seal on his cultivation cracking further.

The third soldier charged. Kaito sidestepped, tripped him, and drove his knee into the man's spine. The soldier went limp.

The fourth hesitated. Kaito saw fear in his eyes.

"Run," Kaito said, his voice barely recognizable. "Tell them I'm coming."

The soldier fled.

Kaito stood in the moonlight, surrounded by bodies. His hands were covered in blood. His core hummed with stolen power.

He'd just killed three men. The Testament had grown stronger.

And something inside him—something dark and hungry—liked it.

Kaito shook off the feeling. He climbed the rusted grate, forcing it open with a groan of tortured metal. The night air hit his face like a gift.

He was out. Free.

But the cost was steep. Three soldiers dead. A trail of blood leading back to the Academy.

Morita would hunt him harder now.

Kaito limped through the moonlit streets, heading toward the coast. Three days to Crimson Port. Three days to find the woman named Shiori. Three days to understand the Testament.

He found a sheltered alcove between two warehouses and collapsed. His body screamed for rest. His mind raced with questions.

Yuki's journal. He opened it, his fingers tracing the pages. The entries were dated, meticulous, written in a hand that trembled with urgency.

*"The Sunken Palace is not a place. It is a prison. The Sword Emperor's Testament is the key. But the key is also a curse."*

Kaito read on. His blood chilled with every word.

*"The Oda Clan were the jailers. They were chosen by the Sword Emperor himself to guard the Palace. But the Shogunate wanted the power inside. They slaughtered the jailers to claim the prison."*

*"Now they are trying to open the Palace. If they succeed, the entity inside will be released. It will consume everything."*

*"Only an Oda can stop them. Only an Oda can enter the Palace and seal it again."*

Kaito closed the journal. His hands were shaking.

He was the last Oda. The only one who could stop the apocalypse.

But he had no power. No allies. No idea how to enter a palace that had been sealed for millennia.

And the Shogunate was hunting him.

A sound echoed from the street—horses. The soldiers had found his trail.

Kaito rose, stuffing the journal into his coat. He'd rest later. For now, he had to run.

The Testament pulsed in his core, hungry for more blood.

He was becoming something new. Something powerful. Something dangerous.

And he didn't know if he could control it.