The void shifted again—but not because of Raizen.
He stood still, his expression calm, but his legion stepped forward instinctively. Swords drawn. Halberd raised. Their bodies didn't tremble, didn't question. They simply moved to guard.
The space ahead of them warped—softly at first. Like a whisper brushing against the walls of reality. Then it snapped.
From the broken seam, something emerged.
A figure.
Not human. Not beast.
It was tall—covered in drifting shrouds of void mist, its face hidden behind a layered bone-like mask. Eyes? None. Yet Raizen could feel its gaze stabbing through him.
"…You're not supposed to exist," the figure said. Its voice was slow, old. Echoing without sound.
Raizen didn't move. "Then why are you here?"
"To erase a mistake."
The soldiers stepped forward, but Raizen lifted a hand.
"Let him talk."
The creature tilted its head. "You touched something buried. Something sealed long before your kind ever climbed out of the mud. A piece of origin doesn't belong in mortal hands."
Raizen's voice was quiet but sharp. "That piece came to me on its own."
The void flickered violently behind the figure. "You're not chosen. You're a threat."
Raizen smiled faintly. "I hear that a lot."
The figure didn't reply. Instead, it stretched out its hand, and the mist around it solidified into a massive spear—glimmering with layered runes Raizen had never seen before.
The pressure hit instantly.
It wasn't spiritual. It wasn't physical.
It was something deeper.
A concept crashing down—like gravity for the soul.
Even space around the figure began to bend and creak, as if rejecting its very existence.
Raizen's legion didn't flinch. Not even once.
But Raizen's eyes narrowed. His body remained calm, yet his mind sharpened. This wasn't some brute. This was a regulator—an ancient existence meant to stop what he had just done.
He raised his hand. "You came alone."
The figure said nothing.
Raizen smiled wider. "Then you're not ready."
In that instant, the first void soldier moved. Silent. Smooth. His blade slashed forward—too fast for most to see.
The figure blocked it with one hand, barely shifting an inch. But the soldier didn't fall back. He struck again. Then another soldier joined. Then two more.
Raizen didn't give orders. He didn't need to. His legion thought with him, moved as one.
The space cracked.
The figure's spear danced, slashing through two soldiers—cutting their bodies into black mist. But instead of vanishing, the mist twisted back, reforming instantly behind him.
He turned, but another soldier had already plunged a dagger into his back.
No blood.
Just silence.
Then Raizen stepped forward.
The battle paused.
"Even if you erase them," Raizen said, "I'll make more."
"You don't understand what you're playing with," the figure growled.
"I understand enough," Raizen replied, eyes cold. "That nothing in this world—or the next—is allowed to control me."
He raised a single finger.
The void behind him trembled. And for a brief moment, the figure hesitated.
Raizen's voice was calm but absolute. "Return to whatever hole you crawled out from, or I'll start erasing your kind next."
The figure stood still… then slowly faded, the space sealing behind him like it had never opened.
Raizen didn't smile.
He turned to his legion.
"
We're being hunted now."
No response. Just focused stares.
"Good," he said. "Let them come."