Hyoga walked with his sword resting against his shoulder when Ryusui suddenly stopped and began to grumble.
"I swear, if the exam date gets any closer, I'm going to burn this academy down."
Hyoga let out a short laugh. His breath was still heavy from the training session.
"Learn how to hold your sword properly first. Then you can burn it."
"Shut up," Ryusui snapped. "Did you see Sensei Hozan today? He killed my mood just by looking at me."
"He gave me the same look. I think he can sense those of us who are born without talent."
Ryusui smirked. "Well, then you're finished."
As the stone gates of the Knight Academy fell behind them, the evening sun began to sink. For Hyoga, this walk was the same as always: exhausting, silent, and full of thought. Coming from a lineage unable to use magic meant living behind an invisible line at the academy. No matter how hard he worked, some looks never changed.
When they reached the crossroads, Ryusui waved.
"Come early tomorrow. Hozan is going to put us through hell again."
Hyoga nodded. "I'm used to it."
They parted ways.
As Hyoga approached his home, he sensed something was wrong. Two healers and a nun in white stood by the door. The unease inside him turned into a heavy weight. His grandfather was ill, yes… but why all these people?
He ran inside.
The house was silent. Too silent.
One of the nuns turned to him. Her expression said everything that needed to be said.
"I am sorry for your loss."
The sentence felt too short. It felt out of place.
Hyoga saw his grandfather in bed. Giyun's face was peaceful. Too peaceful. His chest wasn't moving.
Something snapped.
He didn't remember screaming, nor did he remember how he collapsed. His knees bruised, his throat burned, and the world narrowed. He couldn't breathe. The nuns said things to him, but the words just bounced off the walls.
Time lost its meaning.
Hyoga didn't know how long he stayed by his grandfather's side. An hour, maybe more… he was just there. He held Giyun's hand. It was cold. That hand, always so firm, held nothing now.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't even know what he was apologizing for.
The funeral was held the next day.
The sun was out, but not for Hyoga. Every time the shovel hit the dirt, a weight settled on his chest. People drifted away, voices faded. He remained.
Time passed.
Again, he didn't know how much.
Finally, he stood up and returned home. He stopped in front of the door to the room his grandfather had never allowed him to enter. It wasn't locked. It never had been. Giyun used to say, "You will understand when the time comes to enter."
The time had come.
The room smelled of dust. Shelves were filled with old parchments, magic circles, and notes. Hyoga looked on in shock. His grandfather… was he studying magic?
He scanned the notes, but understood little. He had no magical aptitude anyway. These were just relics of the past.
Then, he noticed a small safe in the corner. It was covered in forbidden seals.
He hesitated for a moment. Then, he opened it.
Inside… was an eye.
It was real. It looked alive.
He wanted to pull back, but his hand moved instinctively. The moment his fingers touched the eye, he felt a surge of heat. Then, the eye crumbled like ash. A fine, black soot rose from his palm and struck him in the face.
Pain.
His right eye burned.
He couldn't even scream.
The ash flowed into his eye, and his vision went black. His knees gave out, and he hit the floor.
When he woke up, he was on cold stone.
A cave.
A fire burned in the center. The crackle of the flames echoed off the walls. The smell of blood was thick—not just fresh, but old. It was as if this place had absorbed centuries of memories.
Hyoga's eyes darted tremulously to the man across from him.
"Who… are you?" he whispered.
The man tilted his head slightly. He smiled. It wasn't a smile of victory; it was the expression of someone who had seen too much.
"My name is Kagetsu," he said calmly.
"But in the tongues of men… I am the Hero of Slaughter."
Hyoga's heart raced. That name… it was left unfinished even in fairy tales and history books. Because the ending was never told.
"Liar," Hyoga managed. "He… a thousand years ago—"
"—died?" Kagetsu interrupted.
He laughed. "Yes. And no."
He walked toward the fire. As the flames lit his face, his eyes remained in shadow.
"The Demon King," he said. "He wasn't just powerful. He was an era. His armies darkened the sky; his cities burned for weeks."
Hyoga swallowed hard.
"I killed him," Kagetsu said. "Alone."
Hyoga's breath hitched.
"People wept with joy. They sang songs in the names of gods. They knelt before me."
He paused.
"Then, they turned on me."
Hyoga looked up. "What… what do you mean?"
Kagetsu's smile vanished, replaced by a cold void.
"After victory, they want order," he said. "For order, you need chains. For chains, you need fear. I did not accept the chains."
He gestured to the cave walls. Bloodstains glinted in the firelight.
"Kings tried to command me. Priests spoke of my sins. Heroes tried to stop me."
His tone remained calm. That was the most sickening part.
"So, I killed them all."
Hyoga's stomach twisted. His knees shook.
"The innocent?" he asked instinctively.
Kagetsu looked at him for a long time.
"There is no such thing as innocent," he finally said. "There are only those who survive and those who do not."
He took a step closer.
"I burned cities because they resisted. I mowed down armies because they feared. I killed those who prayed to gods because they hoped."
Hyoga backed away. "You're… a monster."
Kagetsu smiled.
"And yet," he said, "I went down in history as a hero."
Hyoga's head spun. His breathing grew ragged.
Kagetsu leaned down, bringing his face level with Hyoga's.
"And now," he whispered, "you possess a body empty enough to carry my soul."
Kagetsu—in Hyoga's body—stood up.
He flexed his fingers, testing the new vessel. He walked out of the room. Before him stretched a medieval city of stone buildings.
He looked at the sky.
The sun was setting.
Kagetsu laughed.
"A thousand years later," he said. "It's not so bad to breathe again."