The valley below Mount Aeron was quiet… too quiet. Taki stood on the cliff, the Dawn Blade glowing faintly at his side. The wind had died down, leaving only the distant rustle of leaves. But Taki knew better than to trust the calm.
"The darkness will always come…"
From the horizon, a black cloud began to form, twisting unnaturally. Shadows moved within it, writhing like serpents. And then, as if drawn by some unseen signal, a horde of Madara Jin's Spectral Warriors emerged. They were not fully alive, nor fully dead, their eyes glowing with a red, unholy light.
Taki's jaw tightened. "So soon…?"
A voice, cold and cruel, echoed across the valley.
"Taki Runcandel."
The wind carried it, a whisper like death itself.
Taki turned sharply. Standing atop a jagged peak, cloaked in black and purple, was Madara Jin's lieutenant, the infamous Kuroshiro—a master of shadows and illusions.
"You've grown," Kuroshiro said, smirking. "But the Dawn Blade alone won't save you. Not from me."
Taki gripped the hilt of his sword. "I'm not the same boy you knew. And I won't run anymore."
Kuroshiro's grin widened. With a flick of his wrist, shadows erupted from the ground, forming grotesque creatures that lunged at Taki.
Taki didn't hesitate. The Dawn Blade hummed, and light surged around him, creating a barrier that incinerated the first wave instantly.
But more kept coming. Faster. Relentless.
Taki's body moved instinctively, every swing precise, every movement a dance of death. The Dawn Blade cut through the spectral warriors, but Kuroshiro was already above him, descending like a black meteor.
"You fight well," Kuroshiro said, landing softly. "But you fight alone."
Before Taki could respond, shadowy hands shot from the ground, binding his arms and legs. The horde pressed in, relentless.
Taki's chest burned. The sigil on his chest flared, and suddenly, the whispers returned—louder, stronger, more urgent.
"Awaken fully… let the Dawn consume the darkness… now."
Taki screamed, and golden light exploded from the Dawn Blade, shattering the shadowy bonds and sending the Spectral Warriors flying. The air itself seemed to warp, the ground cracking under the intensity of the blade's energy.
Kuroshiro's eyes widened. "Impossible…!"
Taki's vision sharpened. He saw every movement of his enemies, every weakness in their attacks. The Dawn Blade pulsed with power, as if alive, syncing with his will.
With a roar, Taki charged. The battlefield became a storm of golden light and shattered shadows. Every strike, every step, was fueled by the whispers of the Dawn, the ancient power flowing through him.
And for the first time, Taki Runcandel felt the full weight of his destiny—not just to survive, but to challenge the darkness itself.
But as the last Spectral Warrior disintegrated, a chilling laugh echoed across the valley…
From the shadows of the distant mountains, Madara Jin himself appeared, his eyes glowing like molten amethyst, his presence a storm of malice.
"Taki… it's time we meet properly," Madara said, voice resonating like thunder.
Taki tightened his grip on the Dawn Blade, golden light blazing brighter than ever.
"This… is the end of the line for you, Madara Jin," Taki said.
Madara Jin only smiled.
"No, boy… this is just the beginning."