They ran toward the main gate, but a fresh volley of arrows rained down. The Inner Ring returned fire, but there were too many enemies.
Raiden saw an arrow arcing straight for the Feudal lord. He didn't think; he moved.
*Thwack. Thwack.*
Raiden deflected one with his katana, but two others found their mark. One arrow pierced his shoulder. The other buried itself deep in his leg.
Raiden gritted his teeth, stumbling but not falling. He yanked the arrows out in one motion, ignoring the blood that began to soak his black suit.
"We are close," Raiden gasped, limping now.
They reached the gate, but their hearts sank. A massive wall of traitorous samurai blocked the exit. They were trapped.
Raiden was tired. He was bleeding profusely. He could barely stand.
The opponents rushed at them all at once. The Inner Ring had no choice but to stop running and fight, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the few survivors of the Middle Ring.
It was over. The odds were impossible.
The Feudal lord slowly took out his blade, his hands trembling not from fear, but from the realization of the end. He knew it was possible that he would die here, today.
"CHARGE!" the enemy commander screamed.
The wall of traitors crashed toward the exhausted defenders.
Raiden's eyes darted frantically through the chaos. The main gate was a slaughterhouse; there was no way through. But his mind, sharpened by years of service, remembered a path the invaders had missed.
He spotted a narrow collapse in the western wall, hidden behind the smoke of a burning watchtower. It was a service breach, small but open.
Raiden didn't hesitate. He grabbed the Feudak lord shoulder, shocking the Lord.
"Not here!" Raiden shouted over the roar of the battle. He pointed his katana toward the hidden breach in the west. "There is an opening behind the rubble! Go! I will buy you time!"
"Raiden, no—" the Feudal lord started.
"GO!" Raiden roared, a command that brooked no argument.
He shoved the Feudal lord toward the loyal Inner Ring samurai, signaling them to run. As they scrambled toward the exit, Raiden turned his back on salvation.
He faced the oncoming tidal wave of enemies alone.
His vision swam. His legs screamed in protest, trembling under his own weight and the blood loss. He was exhausted, every breath feeling like breathing through a straw. But he grit his teeth, planted his feet firmly into the blood-slicked earth, and forced his body to stand tall.
He would be the wall they could not pass.
The air smelled thick with smoke drifting from the burning temples, mixing with the screams of people pleading for help. The fire continued to spread relentlessly toward the Feudal lord's fortress, the roar of the flames drowned out only by the sharp, rhythmic clash of colliding metal as the horde collided with the lone ninja.
Raiden gasped for air as he fought desperately to protect the lord retreat. The corrupt, greedy samurai attacked without mercy, trying to push past him to get to the Lord.
Raiden intercepted them all. He moved like a blur, a machine fueled only by willpower. When a heavily armored samurai charged him, roaring a challenge, Raiden countered instantly, slipping inside the guard and slashing the man down.
But in the exchange, his fatigue cost him a fraction of a second. He failed to realize a second blade coming from the shadows.
*Shhhk.*
Cold steel pierced his side, grinding against bone.
Raiden stumbled. As his body began to give out, he grabbed the attacker by the armor and drove a kunai into the man's throat with his last ounce of strength. They fell together.
Vision blurring, Raiden reached into his pouch one last time. He grabbed a smoke bomb—not for attack, but for salvation. He slammed it into the ground between the fleeing Daimyō and the pursuing horde.
"GO... MY LORD!" he screamed, his voice tearing at his throat.
The thick gray cloud erupted, walling off the Feudal lord from the enemy.
Raiden collapsed to his knees, no longer able to stand. He forced himself to stay put, a lone shadow in the smoke, blocking the path even as he died. He watched through the haze as the traitorous samurai tried to chase, but were slowed by his final trap.
"I didn't sense the enemy..." he whispered, his voice failing as the blood pooled beneath him. "I didn't know the enemies were already among us."
"I'm still a failure. Forgive me."
The thought echoed in his mind, louder than the battle. He believed himself a failure because he could not protect the Daimyō until his last breath. He had not died shielding his Lord; he had died watching him run away.
As the enemy samurai descended through the smoke to finish him off, raising their blades for the final strike, Raiden's vision was suddenly consumed by darkness.
Then, the darkness shattered.
Raiden gasped, his hand flying instantly to his ribs, expecting the wet warmth of blood and the sharp bite of arrow .
But there was nothing. No wound. No armor. Only a strange, throbbing pain in the side of his head.
He pushed himself up from the hard ground, his vision swimming. The smell of smoke and blood was gone. He wasn't in the burning fortress.
He looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.
He was standing in a canyon of blinding, unnatural lights—neon pinks and electric blues buzzing like trapped lightning.