Whispers of Shikiban:The king walks among us-Chapter 63 --

The aftermath of the Shikiban's destruction was a wasteland of smoke and blood. Cracked ground still pulsed with heat, split like dry skin, and the sky above it hung grey and motionless. There was no wind. No birds. Only the scent—charred flesh, metallic ash, and the lingering stench of sorcery gone wrong.

Yeaga, Daigo, and Ishigo stood among the wreckage—bloodied, bent, but not broken. The battle had stolen nearly everything from them.

But the silence that followed wasn't relief.

It was wrong.

Too still. Too empty.

"Did you hear that?" Ishigo's voice cut through the quiet, sharp and alert.

Faint. Rattling.

Chains.

Yeaga's jaw tensed. "Yeah," he muttered. "And something else. Worse."

Daigo stepped forward, one hand bracing against a crumbling slab of stone. "The earth's still pulsing," he said. "That magic—it's not done."

Then Yeaga saw her.

Through the mist—hanging in the distance like a forgotten ghost.

"Reika," he breathed.

He was already moving before they could answer, boots pounding across the broken earth. His chainsaws revved behind him, a growl building with every step. Daigo and Ishigo followed, but Yeaga was faster, desperation driving every muscle.

"She's hurt—bad!" he shouted.

Reika's body dangled from the sky, suspended by rusted serpents of cursed metal. Her blade was gone. Her limbs hung limp. The chains tightened, pulsing with a parasitic glow. Whatever life she had left—was leaving her.

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They weren't going to reach her in time.

Then the air shifted.

Not like wind—but like presence. Something stepping into the world that didn't belong.

Yeaga skidded to a halt. He felt it before he saw it. All of them did.

A figure stepped through the smoke.

Tall. Calm. Dangerous.

He moved like gravity didn't apply, as if the chaos bent out of his way. Silver streaks ran through his wolf-cut hair, tied loosely behind his head. His eyes—cold and unreadable—locked onto Reika.

"Don't move," he said, voice low and too calm. "I'm not here to fight."

Ishigo raised his scythe. "Then what the hell are you?"

The man didn't answer. A blade shimmered into existence in his palm—a weapon that hummed with something far beyond mortal steel. It bent the light, tore the shadows around it.

"I'm the heir of the Void Ring," he said. "No time to explain."

Then he vanished.

In less than a blink, he reappeared beside Reika.

One slash.

The chains snapped.

She fell.

Yeaga caught her in his arms, just barely. She trembled against him, her breath shallow.

"She'll live," the stranger said, already walking away. "But you need to move. Now."

They didn't argue.

Above them, the clouds split. A rift opened in the sky like a wound—and from it fell stars.

No.

Weapons.

Orbital blades, forged from the edge of heaven, fell like divine punishment. The last of the Shikiban forces—scattered and hanging on—were erased in moments. The battlefield lit up in white fire, and the air screamed.

Then he rose—the stranger—hovering above the carnage like judgment given form. Each swing of his blade cracked the earth, tore holes in the sky.

The others pushed forward, striking with everything they had. Yeaga's chainsaws screamed. Daigo summoned titanic fists of stone. Ishigo's scythe burned blue across the battlefield.

And Reika—

Her fingers twitched. The energy in the air—wild, unclaimed—poured into her.

Her sword answered the call.

Seisomurei.

It shimmered back into her hand, gleaming like a memory she refused to forget. Her eyes snapped open.

She charged.

And together—they brought the Shikiban down.

It screamed as blades tore through its body. Daigo crushed its legs, Ishigo cut through its spine, Yeaga ripped through its ribs. Lyrix, the stranger, rained starfire from above. And Reika—

She drove her blade into the center of its chest.

The Shikiban collapsed. Shuddered. Broke.

Silence fell.

Real this time.

Or so they thought.

The battlefield groaned. A deep, hollow sound rose beneath them. A wrongness so vast it bent the air.

The Shikiban's body twitched.

Then transformed.

The monster they fought wasn't the end. It was the door.

Its limbs reformed—divine, terrible. Wings of obsidian stretched from its back. Golden veins pulsed like corrupted lifeblood. A black halo spun behind its skull, etched with impossible symbols that weren't meant for human eyes.

This wasn't a creature anymore.

It was judgment incarnate.

Reika staggered back, eyes wide. "It ascended..."

Yeji—the stranger—stepped beside her, blade humming with voidlight. "It's tapped the Void. Fully."

She met his eyes. "Then we didn't pass the trial yet."

He raised his blade. "Not yet."

The Shikiban let out no roar. Only a command. The earth fractured. Time bent. Energy spears erupted from the sky in chaotic bursts. The battlefield twisted—gravity failing, light breaking into shards.

Then it moved.

Reika barely blocked its first strike. Her blade screamed. Yeji countered the second, his Voidblade colliding with the core in a shockwave that broke sound and space.

This wasn't a battle anymore.

It was a cataclysm.

They moved as one. Reika ducked beneath a blade of lightning frozen in mid-swing. Yeji blinked through space, reappearing with every strike. Their attacks weren't meant to win—they were meant to survive.

But survival wasn't enough.

Yeji dropped low, slicing through the Shikiban's wing. "Reika! Now!"

She felt it—the moment.

Everything slowed.

The blade in her hand pulsed, whispering its final form.

She screamed into the wind—

"Seisomurei: Zero Gate Form!"

Her sword transformed.

It no longer burned.

It erased.

Yeji struck first. A spiral slash tore open the monster's chest, peeling back armor like silk. Its heart—twisting, writhing, screaming—was exposed.

Reika leapt.

She plunged her blade into its core.

There was no explosion.

No roar.

Only silence.

Perfect. Awful. Final.

The Shikiban began to unravel—not destroyed, but deleted. As if the world itself refused to remember it.

The clouds parted.

Time steadied.

The void closed.

And the world exhaled.

Reika and Yeji landed in the rubble, weapons still humming with cosmic energy. Behind them, the others watched—silent, in awe.

The trial was over.

For real this time.

Yeji stood still, the glow around him fading. "It's over," he said.

Yeaga, bloodied but upright, wiped his mouth. "Yeah? Thanks for the damn assist."

Reika turned toward the stranger. Her chest heaved. Her blade flickered out.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He didn't blink. He didn't smile.

He just looked.

The wind tugged at his hair, catching the silver streaks. His eyes, calm and hollow, dropped to the badge on her chest.

0(2).

He pointed to his own.

0(1).

"Yeji Nagatomi," he said softly.

Reika's breath caught.

Her voice cracked. "You're... Kageshiki?"

He nodded once.

"The same rank as you," he said. "But I'm the one above."

And with that—

Level 5 was complete.

They passed.

And the real war was just beginning.