Ayaka's eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The air was thick with dust, the scent of decay clinging to the walls of the vast, decrepit chamber. Faint moonlight filtered in through the cracks in the high stone ceiling, illuminating fragments of an era long past in that moment.
The throne room was a shadow of its former glory. The banners of the Kamisato Clan hung in tatters, their once-pristine fabric now dulled by time and neglect. Ornate carvings along the pillars were worn and chipped, and the marble floor was cracked with age. A deep, foreboding silence pressed against her ears, only broken by the soft echo of her own breath.
As Ayaka slowly pushed herself up from the cold floor, her gaze traveled to the grand throne that loomed ahead. Seated upon it was a figure she knew all too well—her brother, Kamisato Ayato. But something about him was wrong. His usual calm demeanor had been replaced by an air of contempt, his piercing gaze burning with something sinister. Beneath his eyes, red symbols pulsated with an eerie glow, as though they were carved into his very skin. His armor was nothing like the traditional garb of the Yashiro Commission—this was something more resplendent, more domineering, yet twisted in its grandeur. Gold and crimson threads intertwined along his sleeves, and a regal mantle draped over his shoulders like the cloak of an emperor.
Ayato rose from the throne, his movements deliberate, calculated. The heavy silence shattered as his voice cut through the air.
"So you've finally woken up, Ayaka." His tone was laced with disdain. "For too long, I have watched you bask in the honor of the Kamisato name. But tell me, dear sister, do you truly believe you are worthy of it? Your so-called grace, your loyalty—it is nothing but a frail illusion."
Ayaka's heart pounded in her chest, confusion warring with the sting of his words. "Brother, what are you saying? This isn't you—what happened here? What happened to you?"
Ayato scoffed, stepping forward, his presence overwhelming. "What happened? I awakened. I realized that honor is not measured in kindness or servitude, but in strength. And I have outgrown the fragile ideals of our family. I will not be shackled by the expectations of a weak clan."
He drew his blade, the light catching its polished edge, gleaming with an unnatural luster. "The Kamisato name deserves a leader who is beyond reproach, beyond doubt. And you… you are an obstacle in my path. Your honor pales before mine, Ayaka. You are unfit to bear the Kamisato crest."
Ayaka felt her grip tighten around her own weapon. This could not be real. This had to be some twisted nightmare. And yet, as Ayato's presence bore down upon her, the truth settled in like a stone in her stomach.
He meant every word.
Ayato raised his blade, a smirk playing on his lips. "Here and now, I will end this farce. I will prove myself as the greatest within our family—the true Kamisato. And you, dear sister, will fade into irrelevance."
Ayaka steadied her breath. Her brother—the brother she had once admired, the brother who had guided her with wisdom—was now standing before her as a foe. And if she had to fight to bring him back, then she would.
A gust of icy wind coiled around her blade as she stepped into her stance, her resolve hardening like frost on steel. "If you believe strength alone defines the Kamisato Clan, then allow me to show you the strength that lies in honor. I will not back down, Ayato. If I must fight for our family's true pride, then so be it."
The throne room trembled as the siblings faced each other, their blades gleaming in the dim light. The air grew heavy with the promise of battle.
And then, with a single step, the storm began.
Their blades clashed, sending sparks flying through the hollow chamber. Ayaka felt the force of Ayato's strike reverberate through her arms. He was faster, stronger than she remembered. Each movement was precise, almost ruthless in its execution. She barely had time to react before he pressed forward again, his sword slicing through the air with deadly intent.
"Is this all you have?" Ayato sneered, parrying her counterstrike effortlessly. "You speak of honor, yet you falter so easily. Do you truly believe yourself capable of stopping me?"
Ayaka gritted her teeth, pushing back with a powerful sweep of her blade. Ice erupted from the floor, encasing Ayato's feet for just a moment. It was enough. She lunged forward, her blade aimed for his shoulder, but he shattered the ice with a surge of raw energy and deflected her strike with terrifying ease.
"I expected more from you, dear sister," he mused, his crimson-marked gaze never wavering. "How disappointing."
The battle waged on, the clash of steel echoing through the ruined throne room. Each strike carried their emotions—Ayato's bitter resentment, Ayaka's desperate determination. She refused to believe he was beyond saving. Somewhere beneath the corruption, her brother still remained.
As their duel continued, the ground beneath them trembled, ancient stone crumbling under their relentless exchange. Ayaka knew she could not let this go on forever. She had to break through to him. She had to remind him of who he truly was.
Summoning every ounce of strength, she dashed forward, her blade shimmering with a final, desperate strike. "I won't let you forget, Ayato! The Kamisato Clan is built on more than just power!" She brought her sword down, aiming not to harm but to awaken the brother she had lost to the darkness.
Ayaka's eyes fluttered open, her vision blurred as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The air was thick with dust, the scent of decay clinging to the walls of the vast, decrepit chamber. Faint moonlight filtered in through the cracks in the high stone ceiling, illuminating fragments of an era long past.
The throne room was a shadow of its former glory. The banners of the Kamisato Clan hung in tatters, their once-pristine fabric now dulled by time and neglect. Ornate carvings along the pillars were worn and chipped, and the marble floor was cracked with age. A deep, foreboding silence pressed against her ears, only broken by the soft echo of her own breath.
As Ayaka slowly pushed herself up from the cold floor, her gaze traveled to the grand throne that loomed ahead. Seated upon it was a figure she knew all too well—her brother, Kamisato Ayato. But something about him was wrong. His usual calm demeanor had been replaced by an air of contempt, his piercing gaze burning with something sinister. Beneath his eyes, red symbols pulsated with an eerie glow, as though they were carved into his very skin. His armor was nothing like the traditional garb of the Yashiro Commission—this was something more resplendent, more domineering, yet twisted in its grandeur. Gold and crimson threads intertwined along his sleeves, and a regal mantle draped over his shoulders like the cloak of an emperor.
Ayato rose from the throne, his movements deliberate, calculated. The heavy silence shattered as his voice cut through the air.
"So you've finally woken up, Ayaka." His tone was laced with disdain. "For too long, I have watched you bask in the honor of the Kamisato name. But tell me, dear sister, do you truly believe you are worthy of it? Your so-called grace, your loyalty—it is nothing but a frail illusion."
Ayaka's heart pounded in her chest, confusion warring with the sting of his words. "Brother, what are you saying? This isn't you—what happened here? What happened to you?"
Ayato scoffed, stepping forward, his presence overwhelming. "What happened? I awakened. I realized that honor is not measured in kindness or servitude, but in strength. And I have outgrown the fragile ideals of our family. I will not be shackled by the expectations of a weak clan."
He drew his blade, the light catching its polished edge, gleaming with an unnatural luster. "The Kamisato name deserves a leader who is beyond reproach, beyond doubt. And you… you are an obstacle in my path. Your honor pales before mine, Ayaka. You are unfit to bear the Kamisato crest."
Ayaka felt her grip tighten around her own weapon. This could not be real. This had to be some twisted nightmare. And yet, as Ayato's presence bore down upon her, the truth settled in like a stone in her stomach.
He meant every word.
Ayato raised his blade, a smirk playing on his lips. "Here and now, I will end this farce. I will prove myself as the greatest within our family—the true Kamisato. And you, dear sister, will fade into irrelevance."
Ayaka steadied her breath. Her brother—the brother she had once admired, the brother who had guided her with wisdom—was now standing before her as a foe. And if she had to fight to bring him back, then she would.
A gust of icy wind coiled around her blade as she stepped into her stance, her resolve hardening like frost on steel. "If you believe strength alone defines the Kamisato Clan, then allow me to show you the strength that lies in honor. I will not back down, Ayato. If I must fight for our family's true pride, then so be it."
The throne room trembled as the siblings faced each other, their blades gleaming in the dim light. The air grew heavy with the promise of battle.
And then, with a single step, the storm began.
Their blades clashed, sending sparks flying through the hollow chamber. Ayaka felt the force of Ayato's strike reverberate through her arms. He was faster, stronger than she remembered. Each movement was precise, almost ruthless in its execution. She barely had time to react before he pressed forward again, his sword slicing through the air with deadly intent.
"Is this all you have?" Ayato sneered, parrying her counterstrike effortlessly. "You speak of honor, yet you falter so easily. Do you truly believe yourself capable of stopping me?"
Ayaka gritted her teeth, pushing back with a powerful sweep of her blade. Ice erupted from the floor, encasing Ayato's feet for just a moment. It was enough. She lunged forward, her blade aimed for his shoulder, but he shattered the ice with a surge of raw energy and deflected her strike with terrifying ease.
"I expected more from you, dear sister," he mused, his crimson-marked gaze never wavering. "How disappointing."
The battle waged on, the clash of steel echoing through the ruined throne room. Each strike carried their emotions—Ayato's bitter resentment, Ayaka's desperate determination. She refused to believe he was beyond saving. Somewhere beneath the corruption, her brother still remained.
As their duel continued, the ground beneath them trembled, ancient stone crumbling under their relentless exchange. Ayaka knew she could not let this go on forever. She had to break through to him. She had to remind him of who he truly was.
Summoning every ounce of strength, she dashed forward, her blade shimmering with a final, desperate strike. "I won't let you forget, Ayato! The Kamisato Clan is built on more than just power!" She brought her sword down, aiming not to harm but to awaken the brother she had lost to the darkness.
Her strike met Ayato's blade in a furious clash, the force of their battle causing the very walls to shake. Ayato staggered slightly, his breath uneven. A flicker of something familiar passed through his eyes—hesitation. For a moment, Ayaka saw the brother she had once known, buried beneath the hatred.
She pressed forward, her voice unwavering. "Brother, listen to me! You are not defined by strength alone! The Kamisato name has always been about balance—about wisdom and grace, not just power! You taught me that!"
Ayato's grip on his sword faltered, his crimson symbols dimming for the briefest second. His expression twisted with conflict, as though battling something deep within. "No… I…"
Ayaka took a step closer. "You are not alone, Ayato. You never were. Whatever darkness has taken hold of you, I will not abandon you to it."
The room was still for a moment. The weight of Ayaka's words hung in the air, cutting deeper than any blade. Ayato's eyes widened as memories seemed to resurface—of their childhood, of their parents, of the family they had sworn to protect together.
Ayato's sword trembled, his breath sharp. And then, with a shuddering gasp, the red marks beneath his eyes flickered once more… and then suddenly...
"I'm tired of this...nonsense..."
The red marks under Ayato flickered until they seemingly stuck to his face once more as his stare intensified.
"I'll show you...everything!"
Ayato slammed his sword into the ground as he put both his hands over its sheathe.
"Shatter the skies!"
Suddenly...Shaking erupted...Massive shaking...
The roof of the throne room began to crumble...but not to the throne room below..
It instead proceeded to shed itself up into the sky as the entirety of the throne room seemed to slowly start dissipating outwards.
It was only then that Ayaka took notice of...where they were truly at...
A large tower firmly planted in the sky. Yellow clouds and Holy light spread all around. A spotlight emerged from the sky that was pointed down towards Ayato. Ayato released his grip from the sword as he too, began to float up into the sky among everything else.
"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Ayaka screamed out.
A face of absolute glee and satisfaction made its appearance on Ayato's face as he took a glimpse at Ayako before merely stating...
"Allow me to introduce to you...The most golden...pure form...of the Kamisato..."
A large golden hand emerged from the golden clouded skies above. It reached out towards Ayato.
"AYATO! DON'T DO THIS! PLEASEE!" Ayaka screamed but it was all to no avail.
Ayato, now no longer floating but seemingly standing up straight and staring from the sky towards Ayaka said his final words before glory took its hold.
"This is my forsaken duty..."
The golden hand swallowed Ayato in its grasp.