Toshiro vanished.

  —And reappeared behind Ren.

  SLASH.

  Ren barely caught the strike. No—it wasn’t him.

  It was Tsukuyomi’s Silent Dominion.

  The slowed field gave him just enough edge to block.

  Still—

  CLANG.

  The force of it sent him flying into a stone pilr. Dust exploded outward.

  Toshiro grinned, then pivoted.

  Akira rushed in again—one-armed, fearless

  —but Toshiro caught him mid-air with one hand.

  BOOM.

  He smmed him into the ground hard enough to crack the floor.

  Another pivot—

  Kiyohime met Shugorei no Gōka.

  The bdes collided—fme against malice.

  The fme faltered against the cursed cleaver, golden embers scattering like broken scales.

  Kiyohime cracked.

  Not shattered.

  But splintered.

  Toshiro’s smile widened. “Yours breaks next.”

  The battlefield dimmed—

  Erebus—Nemean: Light Eater.

  Darkness swallowed the air.

  Ryuko surged from the shadows, chains coiling up from beneath. They tched onto Toshiro’s arm, locking tight.

  But—

  Toshiro didn’t need to see.

  He felt.

  He yanked Ryuko forward—

  CRACK.

  Elbow to the face.

  Then spun—

  SLAM.

  Ryuko hit the stone ground with enough force to bounce.

  One by one—

  They fell.

  Yumi forced herself up—burns along her side.

  Ren grit his teeth—blood dripping from his brow.

  Akira stood—bde dragging, arm trembling.

  Ryuko groaned—half-conscious, still trying to move.

  Toshiro stood untouched in the center of it all. Bck and red Tamashkii spiraling around his dual-edged naginata like chaotic wind.

  He spun it once—casual. Mocking.

  “Now then…”

  He raised it.

  Tamashkii fred skyward.

  “Let’s start making coffins—”

  CRACK!

  A ripple.

  A rupture.

  A pulse of Tamashkii energy—clean, direct, and furious—shot across the field.

  Toshiro’s body jolted violently.

  His breath caught.

  Eyes wide.

  Ayase stood in front of him.

  One hand extended.

  Palm ft against his gut.

  BOOOOM.

  Toshiro was unched backward like a cannonball, skipping across the battlefield and smming into the far wall.

  He slid to a stop.

  Blood trailed from his mouth.

  He grunted.

  Staggered to his feet.

  Ayase rolled his shoulder. Calm. Cold. Focused.

  Toshiro wiped his lip.

  “…Leave it to the lieutenant to ruin all of my fun.”

  He stood tall.

  But his smile—

  Never left.

  “But sadly…”

  Tamashkii pulsed again—this time colder.

  Sharper.

  “…It is not our time to battle yet.”

  FWWOOOM.

  A massive translucent barrier dropped between him and the rest—pulsing with ancient resonance.

  Ayase’s eyes narrowed. “I decide that.”

  He lunged—

  Palm aimed to break the barrier.

  THUD.

  His strike hit the barrier like steel on gss.

  But no crack. No ripple.

  Only refusal.

  Toshiro chuckled.

  “No…”

  He pointed upward—at nothing. At his everything.

  “The Shingan decides that.”

  Silence.

  His smirk widened.

  He stepped into the rising mist, red Tamashkii curling at his feet.

  “But trust me…”

  His gaze scanned the wounded squad.

  “…Sughtering the Jūmonban will be my personal pleasure.”

  Akira’s eyes fred—Tamashkii surging into them.

  He blinked.

  “…Six,” he whispered. “There’s a six on him.”

  Toshiro vanished into the mist.

  The battlefield stilled.

  Ren groaned, wiping blood from his mouth. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Ayase’s gaze was cold. Calcuting.

  “…It means the Shingan has branded his chosen.”

  He looked at the battlefield.

  “At least now… we know how the Kegare are hiding.”

  A pause.

  “And how they pn to fight.”

  CUT TO BLACK.