The skies above the Sky-Dividing Sect rumbled—not from thunder, but from silence.
It was the kind of silence that came before the collapse of something permanent.
Raizen stood alone on the edge of a cliff. His gaze locked on the sect's mountain stronghold ahead.
Behind him, dozens of figures emerged from thin air—one by one, stepping from cracks in reality. Humanoid in form, but unmistakably not human.
Seven feet tall, some taller. Armored in shadowsteel, cloaked in torn silk or spatial weaves. Each one was different—some carried spears longer than themselves, others wielded blades etched with runes that shimmered with Raizen's energy. A few had no weapons at all. They didn't need them.
These were not puppets.
They didn't breathe. They didn't speak.
But they moved with precision—quiet, cold, alive.
Raizen glanced behind him. "You know what to do."
No nods. No salutes. Just silent vanishing—each one flickering out of sight like smoke devoured by wind.
The Sky-Dividing Sect never saw it coming.
One moment the guards patrolled the outer walls. The next, those same guards vanished—ripped clean out of space. No screams. No sounds. Just gone.
Raizen walked calmly through the gates, which had been left open in panic. Fires erupted across the sect grounds. Black-armored figures darted between towers and halls—each strike calculated. Not brutal. Just final.
One disciple tried to run. A figure dropped from above and drove a black blade through his shadow. Not his body—his shadow.
The boy froze mid-step, eyes wide. His body shattered into ash.
On the high balcony, an elder activated the sect's alarm formation. His hands moved fast.
Faster than most.
But not faster than the one already waiting behind him.
A hand pierced through his back before he even finished the incantation.
The black-armored warrior who struck him didn't flinch. No need for words. No need for emotion.
Raizen entered the central courtyard as the sky above darkened. Spatial rifts bled void mist. The Vault Hall's defenses rose instantly—six ancient formations whirled to life, glowing bright.
Raizen didn't break them.
He simply reached forward—and his legion moved as one.
Eight warriors appeared, surrounding the Vault Hall. Their bodies pulsed with his energy. One stepped forward and drove his blade into the ground.
The space around the entire Vault twisted, distorted, and… split.
The formations were still glowing—intact, untouched. But the building they protected was no longer inside.
It had been silently shifted into Raizen's personal void realm.
He turned to face the last threat—the Sect Master, descending from the sky with his blade flashing like a falling star. He was powerful. His aura forced the clouds apart.
But Raizen didn't raise a hand.
One of his legionnaires appeared in front of him. Cloaked in ragged robes, wielding a crescent scythe fused from spatial matter.
The Sect Master roared and slashed.
The legionnaire didn't dodge.
He caught the blade with one hand. The Sect Master's eyes widened—until the legionnaire's other hand crushed his chest in.
He coughed blood. "What… are you things?"
Raizen stepped forward.
"They're mine."
He touched the Sect Master's forehead—and erased him. Body, soul, and memory.
The remaining sect members scattered. Some begged. Some hid. Raizen said nothing. His legion did the rest.
They didn't burn the sect.
They unwove it.
Foundations cracked. Towers disappeared. The very land beneath the Sky-Dividing Sect trembled and began to warp.
Raizen stood at the edge of it all, watching the collapse.
His warriors reappeared behind him—silent, spotless, ready.
They didn't breathe.
They didn't bleed.
And they didn't ask questions.
They weren't alive.
But they knew him.
Raizen opened a void gate and stepped through. The legion followed—one by one, like shadows slipping back into the night.
Behind them, the Sky-Dividing Sect no longer existed.