Vescrutia: Legacy

As the last glimmer of life left the beast his dark matter returned to its jar sealing itself upon doing so. He would rather avoid another meaningless confrontation if possible but here in a terrain full of them, he would have to exercise more caution. Leaving the watering hole behind he trekked on. Hiding the sound of his steps and masking his presence he navigated the jungle like a silent serpent snaking through the canopy. In time he caught a glimpse of what lay over the horizon, just beyond the Jungle's intense thicket: dominance, the former stronghold of the Denkou-Shi...his home. Even from here, he could feel the lingering mystic presence of his people, like a whisper, and invitation it beckoned him closer. He inched closer, but just as he was about to reveal himself he caught the shadow of another. They were clad in traditional shinobi garbs their faces narrowly revealed. As he peered closer they even bore the snake clan seal, well, a crudely crafted imitation.

"What could they hope to gain by impersonating the shi? Do they not fear the danger?"

It was interesting to him, although the Shi were dangerous and should not be recklessly approached that the other families would not have overrun them didn't sit right with him. Were the dangers of Dominance truly so frightening that they would secure them this much? He needed more information, but first, he needed to isolate one of them...and question. From what he could glean there was no sign of this, Nestu user. What would be the point of a Shi assisting an Owaki? Even if one or even two of them managed a change of heart and helped the shi escape, he couldn't imagine them not backstabbing the Owaki at the first chance they got. But to bring them to their most sacred ground, that was a cause for concern.

"Could they be after the Ring Of Power?"

It was the only thing he could fathom, but seeing as though the wards surrounding the temple had yet ot be disturbed, they hadn't made it to the vault where the ring was said to have once resided.

"Severus, give me an outline of the perimeter, I need a registry of every living thing with a pulse within the immediate area."

It was then that Natech responded producing a quick but effective scan over the area. There were 23 of them in total. Those cloaked were indeed Owaki and yet, deeper within the temple there was a powerful naten signature. It must have been the Shi traitor. To the very far left of the expanse, he saw one of the members apart from the rest. He had found his target. It was time to begin the operation.

He moved with the swiftness of a jaguar navigating the tree as if he had done so all his life, yet with serpentine grace. His presence was completely masked, his face covered. Barely rustling a single leaf. Within seconds he was in position.

"Geez, Zagren has us on such a tight schedule barely any time to take a piss."

Spoke the lone shinboi relving himself on a tree just within the perimeter of the temple.

"Still...I'll take this over the evil shit the family is up to."

At that moment the shinobi would feel an encumbering presence appear behind him, the feeling of inescapable terror in the form of a bone-chilling despair on the nape of his neck as a kunai manifested under his chin,

"If you even blink, I'll cut your throat."

"!!!"

The shinobi was frozen in fear barely registering what was happening. Jao fully materialized from his shadow, a sly technique given to him by the Chaos serpent. He etched the blade closer drawing the smallest bead of blood from the ninja's jugular.

"You and your pals have made the gross mistake of toying with the name of a people who once sired fear, the very same fear scrambling through you, across the whole of Edo. To hold that name, the Name of Shi is to walk this land without the privilege of the sun. Is that what you want? Your eyes gouged out...I can make it so nod once for yes, twice for no."

Reluctantly the man nodded twice.

"Good, you will respond to my questions in the same manner, failure to do so will see your left eye taken...understand?"

He nodded once.

" Have you made it inside the deeper recesses of the temple?"

He nodded twice.

"Right, of course not... are you Owaki?"

He nodded once. Jao could barely comprehend why they would leave the lavish life of the eldest shinobi line to masquerade as the most despised.

"Final question...answer honestly, and you may yet live to see the next sunrise."

The ninja stayed perfectly still, solidifying his compliance

"Is there a Shi helping you?"

It was then Jao felt his body tense, hesitant as if there was turmoil within him. Deciding whether his life was worth this secret. Jao etched the blade deeper a fine line of his blood trailing the edges of the kunai. Just as the Shinobi was about to respond Jao's ears twitched, catching the sound of breaking twings and crumbling leaves.

"Leif? What the hell is taking you so long, it's time for the..."

An intense pressure overcame the Shinobi knocked to cold by a chop to the back of his head, alive but incapacitated. When the other shinobi came, he discovered the body but Jao was gone having retreated into the darkness. At that moment the other guy scaled for a device frantically yelling into it.

"The permiter has been comprised! Leif has been disposed!"

It was then that shinobi flooded the area, scouring high and low for the culprit. Jao's presence remained hidden, a phantom flickering on the periphery of their awareness, but even he could not escape the scouring gazes of the ninja for long. Their numbers were overwhelming, their senses honed to a razor's edge. He could feel their heat signatures, the subtle vibrations in the air, closing in around him like a tightening net.

Taking advantage of their frantic, if somewhat disorganized, response, he traversed the shadows of the various structures, slipping past ornate carvings and ancient obelisks. He moved like liquid night, a whisper against stone, penetrating their defenses and arriving within an open door. It wasn’t locked. A sign of their arrogance, their confidence in their security. A mistake he would exploit.

He materialized on the ceiling, crouching low, a grotesque gargoyle clinging to the stonework. He remained out of sight, clinging using naten, to keep him tethered. It manifested as thin, nearly invisible threads of dark energy, anchoring him with unnatural strength. A pair of shinobi ran past, their hurried footsteps echoing in the vast chamber. He could dispose of them easily enough, a silent kill, quick and efficient. But speed was more important. Every second counted. Instead, he chose to let them pass.

"I should off them all just for their sacrilegious mongering...but that's not the goal...not yet."

His main target was the vault, one that mirrored the one his father showed him just before he departed from Basilisk Valley, the secret refuge of their clan. This temple was a sanctuary lost to time and betrayal. It was here, in the vault, that he hoped to discover their lost heirloom and reclaim his birthright: The Ring of Power, Subjugation. A symbol of their lineage, their history, and their future. He had dedicated his life to finding it, to proving that the snake clan were not the monsters the world believed them to be. They were more, much more.

He dropped silently, a feather falling instead of a body, landing on the polished stone floor without a sound. The air hung heavy with the scent of dust and time, a testament to centuries of neglect. The inside of the temple was incredible. A massive expanse that, though covered in centuries of dust and grime, retained most of its gorgeously crafted architecture. Glass murals, shimmering with trapped light, depicted scenes of valor and sacrifice, of creation and destruction. Smelted gems and stones were grafted into the walls, creating hard tapestries of artwork, intricate and breathtaking. Crafted by the hands of true artisans.

It was riveting, and heart-wrenching, to see. On one hand, it was shocking that his people, who had only ever been labeled as soul-sucking demons and merciless assassins, were capable of such beauty, such artistry. He had grown up hearing the tales of their ruthlessness, their depravity. But this... this was culture, civilization, a testament to a forgotten greatness.

And on the other, despair gnawed at him. Despair that they were reduced to now, cave-sleuthing vagabonds fighting for their very right to existence, their freedom. The irony was thick enough to choke on. They, the descendants of these master artisans, these builders of wonders, were now forced to live in the shadows, hunted like animals.

He ran a gloved hand along a mosaic depicting what he believed to be the founding of Basilk Valley. The faces were regal, and proud, radiating an inner strength that resonated even through the faded colors. For a moment, he allowed himself to dream, to imagine a future where his clan could reclaim its honor, its place in the world.

But the sound of approaching footsteps snapped him back to reality. Two more shinobi. Closer this time.

"Shit...got caught up in the moment..."

He had lingered too long. He had let his emotions cloud his judgment. He needed to find the vault, and he needed to find it now. He was running out of time. Subjugation, was within his grasp. The future of his clan depended on it. He just had to reach it first. And to do that, he had to become the phantom once more, a whisper in the shadows, moving faster and more silently than his pursuers. The hunt was on.

The air was thick with the weight of centuries as Jao approached the vault, its intricate carvings glinting faintly in the dim light of the temple. This was the moment he had dedicated his life to, the culmination of a journey that he had spent the last decade training for, the promise of a future, a fighting chance against the current of fate. The Ring of Power was more than a simple trinket or symbol—it was the heart of his clan’s legacy, a reminder of the greatness the Shi had once known before betrayal and misunderstanding cast them into the shadows.

But Jao was done slithering about. He revealed himself appearing from the cover of darkness walking slowly towards the vault.

As he reached the vault, two shinobi stood guard, their eyes narrowed in suspicion. Jao didn’t hesitate. With the precision of a warrior bred for this very moment, he dispatched them silently, their bodies crumpling to the stone floor without so much as a whisper. The vault loomed before him, its surface adorned with symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.

But as he reached out to touch it, a shadow moved, swift and deadly. A masked ninja emerged from the darkness, their presence as silent as the wind. Jao’s instincts flared, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade. The ninja’s mask was pitch black, their eyes gauged out, leaving hollow sockets that seemed to bore into Jao’s soul. They moved with a ferocity that belied their sightlessness, their attacks precise and unrelenting. This was no ordinary shinobi, but one of the Sunless.

Jao parried and countered, the clash of steel echoing through the temple. The battle was intense, the two combatants weaving around each other in a deadly dance. The vault seemed to hum with energy, as if it too were watching the struggle unfold. In a flash of speed, the masked one appeared on Jao's left side legs primed for a swift kick, one that carried an intense aura about it that seemed to draw in a chilling naten. Jao's eyes widened, this was

"Rhyme Style?"

He scarcely had time to prepare a proper counter to the technique, the frost-laden blow sending a callous life-sapping chill through his body as he improperly defended against it. Immediately he weaved a set of ava that saw his own Nestu aura manifest. His frame became outlined in a dark purplish hue. He exasperated his body temperature to dissolve the frost before it could spread further. This was very concerning for Jao, there were only three known living users of the Rhyme style. It was an incredibly monstrous technique to master. Of the Shi 10, were numbers 2, 3, and 6 who all accounted for back home. There were once four of them but after he was said to have died in the last assualt on the Owaki farms.

"Who...are you?"

The figure said nothing, silent as they were deadly. It was like staring into a living void, this felt...different than other sunless he faced, even though they had a slight sense of palpable bloodlust. But this person...it was like fighting a blank slate. But their fight didn’t go unnoticed for long. More shinobi emerged from the shadows, surrounding Jao in a circle of covered eyes and drawn weapons. More Sunless?! This was unlike the intel that the old lady gave him. She said they were Owaki defectors, but not that their forces were a bunch of rouge Shi. He could feel their tension, the air thick with the promise of violence. Yet this band surrounding him was vastly different from the masked one he had crossed with earlier. Just as it seemed the situation would escalate, a figure stepped forward, their presence commanding attention.

The leader was a man whose youth was betrayed only by the icy cold glare in his eyes. He was dressed in standard shinobi garbs yet upon his chest was the Owaki clan's symbol. Jao immediately became infuriated, his aura becoming flagrant. Yet another Owaki bastard flaunting around his cache of Shi servants...but to parade himself around under the banner of his clan while doing so was an insult he could not stomach. The Sunless moved to intercept, but the blue-eyed man raised his hand, and upon it the gleam of a ring that twinkled with the same glint as his lazy azure gaze. The masked one obeyed instantly seemingly freezing in place in total obedience. Behind his shades, his eyes were wide with disbelief.

"Wait..is that?!"

Subjugation? But how did this imposter get his hands on it?

“So,”

The leader drawled, his voice sharp, yet carrying a disinterested undertone.

“This is the scoundrel who dares to trespass on sacred ground. You’ve managed to find your way past our defenses. Impressive, but futile.

The Owaki raised his hand, the azure crystal gleaming once more and Jao felt a nearly irresistible presence encumber him, his entire existence like a droplet of water in an ocean of influence. For a beat of time, he felt a remarkably beguiling pull of his faculties, his sole desire being to bend to the whims of the man before him.

"For you stand before the legacy of the Denkou-shi, Inherit-"

At that moment a menacing aura completely overshadowed all other personas in the vicinity. An inescapable dread falls upon their shoulders like a deluge of despair. At first glance, this power felt all-encompassing, like there was no escaping the will of the one controlling it. However, deep within him, a rumbling occurred, and before he knew it the Owaki leader would find himself pulled into Jao's consciousness. Behind the veil of his ego, a massive black presence uncoiled revealing itself to be a giant serpent.

"You are not Chikara...that stone, is hollow..."

Its eyes gleamed with an untamed, undiluted essence that dwarfed the ring's influence by fathoms. Like being swallowed whole by the serpent's gaping maw. The Owaki's heart became doused in a sensation of terror and fear that shattered his focus dismantling the compulsion of his ring.

"I...strongly advise you not to finish that statement...."

They snapped back to reality, Jao's mind his own once more. From beyond the blackened veil of his glasses, a searing violet glare surfaced as he casually adjusted them but for a brief moment, he and the white-haired imposter made direct eye contact.

" Or I'm going to fucking eat you...."


The seals encoded into his Natech were padded with backup protocols to hold his anthem at bay, but it seemed that they could not even contain its power without flaw when his emotional state reached a certain threshold. For Jao, who normally has a cool lid in everyday practice this would not be a concern, but when standing face to face with those who enslaved his clan...hunted and mutilated his family, and even dared to tread around their homeland wearing their name...it was more than even he could handle.

As their eyes met the Owaki felt the intense state of delirium beyond the fierce violet glare, as if staring face to face with the serpent he saw once more, but magnified by fathoms. The Sunless surrounding him backed up, though they did not possess their eyes they could still feel the ebb and flow of Jao well of cursed naten. The presence of their kindred. They lowered their weapons, and the backup protocol for the shades reinforced the seal as Jao got a grip on his emotions, causing his anthem's influence to recede.

The heavy distortion in the air faded, leaving the Owaki blinking, his usual sneer replaced by genuine bafflement. He stared at the ornate ring on his finger, then snapped his gaze to Jao, his voice a strangled whisper.

“Impossible! It… it should have worked. The ring, it’s never…”

Jao’s voice cut through Sozen’s bewildered stammering, low, and vibrating with contained fury. “

Your trinket is worthless, Owaki. A cheap imitation. Do you think Chikara, the Djynn of Power, slumbers within that? It is not so easily manipulated. Not by you. Not by any but its rightful heir.”

Sozen lowered his hand, the carefully constructed arrogance collapsing like a poorly built wall. Weariness etched itself onto his features, a weariness that surprised Jao.

“Denkou-shi."

Owaki murmured, the title almost tasting like ash in his mouth. Recognition flickered in his eyes, a reluctant understanding.

“Of course. That… resilience. Those eyes… I should have known."

Jao stepped closer, the whisper of steel sliding free of his sheaths filling the sudden silence.

“Known what, Owaki? Known that your prey would finally bare its teeth? You parade yourself in Zaria, the very birthplace of shinobi, dripping in a pathetic imitation of power, while the blood of my clan stains your precious fields! Tell me, why? Why have you abandoned any semblance of honor, only to desecrate the name of those you’ve helped enslave and mutilate?”

Each word struck Sozen like a physical blow. He flinched, not from the glinting blades, but from the raw, burning accusation in Jao’s voice. He sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of generations crumbling.

“Enslavement, Denkou-shi? Mutilation? Do you even know how the Descendants succeed?”

The Owaki's gaze locked with Jao’s, and for the first time, Jao saw something beyond arrogance, beyond even weariness. He saw… pain.

“They liberated your kind, didn’t they?”

Sozen continued, his voice softer, almost hesitant.

“The… the farm near the Whisperwind Peaks?”

Jao froze, his blades still poised, but his anger momentarily stilled.

“Our strongest,”

Jao whispered,

“Risked everything for that farm. Many… many did not return.”

Owaki swallowed hard.

“I helped them. The Shi gathered here...they were from a neighboring farm. One I helped escape before my… my failure was realized.”

The words were barely audible, a confession whispered into the charged air.

“I… am Sozen Owaki. The youngest of the Four Sons. We oversee the farming initiatives. I gave them the routes, the guard rotations, and the weaknesses in the perimeter. I made certain… minimal bloodshed. On their side.”

Jao stared, disbelief warring with a nascent, unsettling sense of… understanding?

“You… you helped the Descendants? The Shi who strike at the Owaki heart? The ones you hunt?”

Sozen nodded slowly, running a hand through his stark white hair.

“I could no longer stomach it, Denkou-shi. Not the experiments. Not… the things they were doing in those fields. Do you think the Owaki rule with strength? We rule with fear. And desperation. Wrapped under a banner of peace.”

He paused, his voice catching in his throat.

“We are dying, Denkou-shi. The Owaki bloodline. All of us.”

Jao lowered his blades a fraction, confusion clouding the sharp edges of his anger.

“Dying? The Owaki? You hold Zaria, and nearly Edo as a whole in your iron grip. Your power grows with each generation. What madness are you spouting?”

“Madness born of blood, blood and desperation.”

Sozen replied, his voice hollow.

“A sickness in our line. We call it… ‘The Wasting’.”

He looked down at the fake ring, a bitter, mirthless laugh escaping his lips. He turned his hidden hand, revealing a patch of skin that was not pale, but a sickening, spreading blue...

“Irony, isn’t it? Power sought and hoarded, yet it cannot even save us.”

He raised his head, meeting Jao’s bewildered gaze.

“It manifests in the main bloodline, always. Twenty-five years is the earliest it can be detected, but it can strike at any point before forty. A slow rot spreads through the body. Five years, maybe less. Agony, weakness, then… nothing.”

He clenched his fist, the fake ring glinting dully.

“Incurable. They whisper… they cling to the rumor… that the true Ring of Power, the one held by the next clan head, can hold it at bay. But even that is just a fool’s hope.”

He finally looked directly at Jao, the weariness in his eyes deepening into something profound and deeply unsettling.

“Do you understand now, Denkou-shi? Why I wear this charade? Why I play the arrogant Owaki son? Because this…”

He tapped the ring, the metal already showing hairline fractures. It was moments from shattering.

“The legend of The Ring of Power… it said it grants dominion over the mind. That’s… not entirely false. In truth, in its entirety, it grants dominion over matter, the more complex the substance, the more energy it requires. It has only ever been used to bend the minds of others because our knowledge was so vague, completing the very flesh of the mind, the vessel, the body, by using its energy to force control over the nervous system."

Sozen’s voice dropped to a hushed tone.

“When we discovered this… we began to experiment. To see if it could force remission of the sickness, and extend our pathetic lives. But… subjugation. It can only have one true user. So we fabricated these.”

He gestured to the crumbling ring.

“To expand its influence, to amplify the fragments of power we could wield. But those without the true… cursed blood… can only scratch the surface. Using it though to craft the weapons that keep us in the international trade and seat of power.”

He looked back at Jao, his eyes pleading for understanding. “That’s why we began hunting for it. Only the bloodline is capable of housing the ring’s full power. We eventually discovered, through the death of many, that only Ain’s blood descendant, is truly capable of wielding it. The last to wield the rings as a complete set.”

Sozen nodded a grim confirmation.

“My father… he spent decades searching. He finally found it, in a tomb… but not Ain’s body. Only the ring.”

A shadow crossed Sozen’s face.

“He’s used it, yes. It’s slowed the Wasting’s progress in him. But the rings… they leech life. Devour those not destined to wield them.”

He looked away, his voice strained.

“He is not long for this world. So he searches, vehemently. Uses the farms… to breed. To find someone who inherits Ain’s… genetic gifts.”

Jao’s brows furrowed.

“But… what could he even do if he found one? He’d just keep breeding, and slaughtering Shi until another suitable vessel is born? It’s madness.”

Sozen fell silent, his gaze drifting away, a deeper shadow falling over his features. He seemed to be holding back, a heavier weight settling upon him. Jao’s gaze sharpened.

“There’s something else. Something you’re not telling me, Sozen.”

Sozen hesitated, then let out a breath that was almost a sob.

“Eighteen years ago… we received word. Of the birth of The Serpent's heir. A child born with… his Endless Art. One so potent, it left its mother… a hollowed husk.”

His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper.

“A spy within the Yaaru compound… leaked the information. The child… disappeared. But we… we were given the mother’s body.”

A long, insidious silence seemed to swallow the sound around them as Jao began to put all the fleeting pieces of this sinister puzzle together. The anger building in him was only comparable to the disgust and pain of this stark realization. He...he was that child, and his mother...was a Yaaaru...and that he, was responsible for her death.

The flickering torchlight on the wall of the temple cast long, dancing shadows around Jao and Sozen. Jao stood rigid, his hands clenched into fists so tight his knuckles were white. The revelation had hit him like a physical blow, leaving him breathless and raw. He stared at Sozen, his eyes burning. Fighting back tears beneath the veil of his shades.

"I...I am that child, Sozen, it was my mother who you butchered...I that carry the salvation you so callously slaughtered for."

Sozen's eyes widened as he understood the weight of what he had done, the grave transgressions he and his people made. This boy...was the Serpent's Heir.

“Continue.”

Jao commanded, his voice low and strained, each word laced with suppressed fury.

“Every word. I want to hear it all. The depths of your clan’s depravity.”

Sozen, his face pale and etched with genuine remorse, lowered his gaze. He seemed to shrink under Jao’s intense scrutiny.

“It began… after we found her. Your mother.”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

“The Yaaru spy… she was your mother's midwife and personal aid. We bribed her, she gave us details concerning your mother's dealings with your father. And… and the possible potential within her bloodline. Ain’s legacy, the Dankestu Mugen...”

Jao flinched, a visible tremor running through him at the mention of his lineage and his mother in the same breath.

“Potential for what?”

He hissed, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.

“To be dissected? Used like some… some lab rat?”

Sozen nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a pained understanding.

“Worse, perhaps. My father… my brothers… desperation had twisted their minds. The illness consumes us. We were dying. And they saw in your mother, in her blood, a chance not just to survive… but to control.”

He took a shaky breath and continued, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if eager to unburden himself.

“We started with the shi bred on the farm. Before making them sunless, to see if the endless art could be recreated. We soon learned that was a fruitless approach. They...could not handle the strain. We then moved on to the captured Shi. The stronger ones, those who showed resilience to our... manipulations.”

He swallowed hard.

“We… fed them doses of genetic code extracted from your mother’s remains. Tried to force a transformation. A twisted echo of what you are, what you could have been… what you should have been.”

Jao’s breath hitched. He felt cold, bone-deep cold, despite the heat of his rage.

“The Shi… the one that attacked me earlier…”

He trailed off, the realization dawning with sickening clarity.

Sozen nodded again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“One of them. They… they are unstable. Though even a false ring was enough to keep them under control. The process is flawed and brutal. But we had hoped… we hoped to create an army. Shinobi, enhanced with your bloodline’s potential, loyal only to us. Puppets to command. And… and perhaps, within them, to find a key. A way to… to purify our blood, to cure ourselves using what we stole from your mother.”

Jao’s fury erupted, a raw, guttural sound tearing from his chest. He slammed his fist against the stone wall, the impact reverberating through the chamber.

“Monsters!”

He roared, his voice thick with pain and rage.

“You desecrated her memory! You hunted down my mother, and then… then you twisted her very essence into weapons! And for what? To prolong your pathetic, cursed lives and fuel your insatiable hunger for power?”

He turned back to Sozen, his eyes narrowed, burning with an icy resolve.

“The Ring. The Ring of Power. Subjugation. Where is it? Tell me, Sozen. And tell me you will help me tear down this vile edifice you call a clan.”

Sozen didn’t hesitate. He looked up at Jao, his expression a mixture of fear and resignation.

“I… I will tell you everything. The Ring… the true Ring… it is not with me. It is with my eldest brother. He alone can truly wield its power.”

Jao’s breath hitched again.

“Your eldest brother… his name?”

He needed a target, a face to fixate his rage upon. A name to fuel his vengeance. Sozen’s voice was barely audible, a hushed confession laden with dread.

“Iwa… Iwa Owaki.”

The name hung heavy in the air, a new weight added to Jao’s burden of grief and anger. Iwa Owaki. The eldest brother. The wielder of the Ring of Subjugation. Jao stared into the flickering torchlight, his mind already racing, plotting, planning. The Owaki clan had unleashed a storm, and Jao Shi, heir to the lost Denkoushi, was about to become its devastating fury.

"And what became of the spy?"

"We...disposed of her, we couldn't afford to leave a paper trail back to us that would tarnish our facade of peace and unity for Edo. She's long been dead."

"Good. The Yaaru will get what's coming to them soon enough...but first..."

Jao said as he looked at the Sunless gathered around him. They were but mindless puppets now, beholden to the Owaki, stained reflection of their warped ambitions. Jao weave a furious set of ava and upon completing them, his liquid metal, Dark matter slithered from his jar. In an instant, the amorphous metal became a nexus of needles that penetrated their skulls, as well as the other gathered Owaki members killing everyone attending save for Sozen and himself. There could be no witnesses no bread crumb to leave behind. He did not trust Sozen and could say even less of the ones that followed him. The life of a Shinobi was one ruled by coin and the promise of power, he could afford no potential vulnerability in what he was resolved to do. Soren lamented the deaths of his followers but made no protest. He half expected death to follow and was glad it was not his own.

The sound of their falling bodies struck a cord of sorrow in his heart, to have to slay his kin. But he could not let them breathe another breath of mindless captivity. Sozen eyes closed as those who followed him were cut down. Yet he did not protest, a swift death was the greatest mercy they deserved. Jao went before the large one, the one who attacked him earlier, revealing his mask a grimace of confirmation etching upon his face. It was Ryosai, the former number 6. Jao closed the lids of his fallen kin. Sozen's voice disrupted the silence.

"The facility my brother holds is heavily guarded some of our strongest members are upon his detail. Not that I doubt your strength, but it will take more than what you possess now to infiltrate the farm, let alone defeat Iwa."

Jao rose from his crouched position and in that moment he felt the essence of the Nether serpent stir. It pull ushered him towards the vault.

"..."

Jao said nothing in response to Sozen's concerns. Not that they held no merit but the pull of the powerful essence beyond the vault magnetized his focus.

The words echoed in Jao’s mind, a poisoned dart to his soul. Confiscated. Experiments. Owaki. His mother. Gone not just by death, but violated, twisted, and used. The Owaki, the family lauded for their wisdom, for their lineage – they were monsters. A tremor ran through him, not of fear, but of a cold, furious fire igniting within. He pushed himself up from the dust floor of the forgotten shrine, his limbs trembling with the effort not from weakness, but from the raw, untamed rage bubbling beneath his skin. Every breath felt ragged, every heartbeat a drum urging him to violence. He knew, with a chilling clarity, what he had to do. The farms, the fortresses – they weren't just structures, they were cages, laboratories of horrors. They needed to be cleansed. Destroyed.

"Jao?"

And as that thought solidified, a sensation rippled through him, deep and ancient. It was like a whisper in the blood, a tremor in the marrow. The Nether serpent. He felt its sluggish coil stir within the hidden depths of his being, a primordial instinct awakened by his fury, by the injustice done to his bloodline. It wasn’t malicious, not yet, but a primal force, sensing a kindred spirit in his rage. Though the djynn still slept, the pulsing of its being still echoed within Jao its bearer. Sozen remained silent, observing with an obscure weariness, part of him curious as he, despite having the SUnless with him appeared to be unable to open the vault.

"The vault...it...calls to me....to us..."

A pull began, subtle at first, a gentle tug towards the back of the shrine, towards the sealed vault he had always been warned to avoid. The Nether serpent's influence, he realized, ushering him, guiding him. He resisted for a moment, confusion warring with his burning vengeance. Vaults were places of secrets, of dangers. But the pull intensified, growing magnetic, drawing his focus entirely. The essence beyond that vault, whatever it was, resonated with the darkness now blossoming in his soul. It promised… something. Something necessary.

His feet moved of their own accord, drawn by the invisible tether. He approached the vault, the ancient stone cold beneath his calloused fingers. Intricate carvings, almost eroded by time, seemed to writhe and shift in the dim light filtering through cracks in the shrine roof. As he reached for the heavy, rusted hinges, a feeling washed over him, unexpected and disorienting. Familiarity. Not just the cold, oppressive familiarity of the abandoned shrine, but something deeper, something personal, lurking in the shadows beyond that stone door. His soul, newly wounded and raw, recognized something on the other side, something it craved, something it yearned to reclaim. With a groan of protesting metal and a puff of dust, the vault door swung inward. Darkness yawned before him, an abyss swallowing the weak sunlight. He stepped inside, his breath catching in his throat. Then, his eyes adjusted.

It was gold. Mountains of it. Piled high, gleaming dully even in the gloom. Coins, goblets, ancient ornaments, weapons inlaid with jewels – a dragon’s hoard, plundered and amassed over generations. But there was no dragon here. Only… him. And something else.

Resting atop the glittering mountain, almost lost amongst the gold but radiating a palpable presence, was a katana. Darker than polished ebony, it seemed to absorb the light around it. No jewels marred its surface, no ornate carvings adorned the hilt. It was stark, brutally elegant in its simplicity. And it pulsed. A slow, rhythmic throb of shadow energy emanated from the blade, mirroring the shadows he could command, the shadows that were now roiling within him, desperate to be unleashed. Next to it was a mask, bearing a gilden sun upon it. Drawn by an unseen force, Jao reached out, his hand trembling not with hesitation this time, but with anticipation. His fingers brushed against the cold steel of the hilt. Electricity, raw and untamed, surged through him. Not painful, but electrifying, a jolt that resonated deep within his bones, awakening something dormant, something powerful. As his grip tightened around the hilt, a name echoed in his mind, not spoken, but felt, understood on a primal level.

Kuroi Ryu. The Black Dragon Blade.

He knew it instinctively, knew its weight was meant for his hand, knew its purpose was intertwined with his own. Then, another whisper, fainter, older, carried on the wind of forgotten ages: Herald of the Black Sun. Ains Denkoushi.

"This belonged to him, to Ains, the very blade that once carved a path for the Shi, the very one that nearly united the whole of it under the snake clan's fang."

The blade thrummed, responding to the cursed blood that flowed in his veins, the blood now screaming for vengeance. And then, it ignited. Not with flames of fire, but with black, burning energy that erupted from the katana, engulfing his hand and arm in mystical black flame. It wasn't hot, not in the way fire was. It was cold, intensely so, yet it burned with an inner heat, a power that resonated with the darkness in his soul, amplifying it, solidifying it. Shadows that mirrored the act of flame. He gasped, not in pain, but in awe. The black flames danced around the Kuroi Ryu, licking at the gold hoard, leaving no trace of soot, only a deepening sense of dread in the air. He felt it coursing through him now, this cursed energy, ancient and potent, a legacy awakened by his touch, by his rage, by the monstrous actions of the Owaki.

Jao raised the Kuroi Ryu, the black flames swirling around the obsidian blade, reflecting in his widened eyes. He was no longer just Jao, the grieving son. He was something more. Something…heralded. He was the wielder of the Black Dragon Blade, the inheritor of a shadowed legacy. And the Owaki farms and fortresses, the laboratories where his people suffered, were about to face the unleashed wrath of the Black Sun. His vengeance had found its weapon. And the Nether serpent within him stirred a hungry coil of darkness, ready to feast. He took the mask, there was nothing special about it but he could think of a few things to do with it. As for the gold, he would have the Shroud deal with its transport. Szen was racially drooling over it before Jao gave him a hard glare, almost daring him to touch even a single piece of it. He sighed and placed his hands in his pocket. Jao sheathed his blade, its light devouring blackness receded once more.

"And it shall be this blade that rends the hearts of its enemies from their chest. The time for pacifism has ended, I am out, for blood..."

He touched the side of his shades invoking the Serverus program.

"Contact the head lady, and let her know I will be making an appearance, also, tell her to get the Gammalow over there. I have...something they will want to get their hand son....yes. Her payment is here, you can come pick it up. Oh...and let her know I'll be bringing a rather...special guest along with me."

A mere moment later a myriad of shrouds appeared glad in their garbs adorned with veils that hid their faces. They began moving the gold back to the inn. Taking a larger portion of it back to basilisk valley. A gift to his home. He accompanied by Sozen made their way to the inn where they would discuss the next phase of the plan. INfliftrating the Owaki.