Vescrutia: Legacy

-----As the pink and white sun performed their age-old dance in the skies, their lux painted the mountains of Mek in a beautiful array of colors. A pastel blue shade saturated the mountain tops, casting down into a warm pinkish orange. This litany of lights twinkled in the reflections of the lake's surface. Occasions like these were rare, and there was no sight of Edo's natural beauty, but this land was untouched by the scars of war. At least in this current era, before the shift in the ruling powers of the shinobi families, the land of Mek was once the seat of one of the most notorious ninja families. A name that at one time could be counted as Shinobu royalty. Once heralded as the precursors of Ephemeral arts and masters of heat style. Soul-sucking demons feared for their ominous dojustu: The Denkoushi.

-----Tales of their legendary achievements and how they rallied the lands in an uprising against the powers of Edo once rang in the ear of every head of the continent. A grand scheme that would ultimately lead them not to glory but a stake of patience for a debt that can never be prepared, a weight of exiled obscurity that has been held for the last 10,000 years and predated by an advent of genocide that left only a third of the clan alive. Those who sought absolution for the sins of their fathers were allowed to remain alive under the condition of becoming slaves.

-----To ensure their heinous dojustu could not be used against the nation again, the Shi had their eyes gouged out by the age of 5. A callous ritual is performed known as Sun Eater; they are then bound to masks that keep them alive. Should they ever remove them, they die. These servants are known as the Sunless. Because of this curse condition, those Shi that do survive are hesitant to bear children, knowing the horrid fate that awaits their child. A life of darkness, void of light, and the sorrow that comes with being treated as less than human. Through the last few centuries, their numbers have steadily decreased to the point where only an eighth remain on Edo.

-----Nonetheless, with the coming of the third Astral year, a celestial alignment that inspires transformation, an ember of rebellion has been sparked anew, as not all of the Denkoushi have not taken to lying on their backs with their bellies exposed to the wolves of Edo, deep beneath the now assumed abandoned mountains of the land of Mek exist a curiously expansive network of subterrane tunnels carved with particularly artisan craftsmanship that is seldom reflected in the ones who made them. Come to be known as Basilk Valley.

-----It was believed that after the blunder of Ain's coup, all the Shi possessing the mystic eyes were slaughtered or their "fangs" removed. Yet whispers of a group of highly skilled shinobi have recently been active over the lands of Edo, freeing captive Shi, with a particular fixation on those belonging to the lesser clans that once united under their banner in ancient times. The House of Might, the Grizzley clan; Urso, The House of Severing; The Mantis clan; Flonne; and the House of Deliigence, The Gamallow clan. These once mighty names in the ninja world in the modern-day era are mere mockeries of the prestige and power they once held. Despite this, these household names' old teachings and sacred arts have been converted and meticulously handed down through the eons. Slowly but surely, they have been amassing.

-----It is the aim of this syndicate known as the Descendants, formed of Denkoushi who still possess their mystic eyes fuelled by a ceaseless determination to free their brethren and reclaim their name. A task easier said than done, as their heirloom, The Ring of Power, one of the three rings of Chaos, is said to have been lost to them since their fall from power long ago. With the other two great shinobi families still possessing their heirlooms and no doubt elite shinobi capable of wielding their ancient powers, the Shi stood no chance in achieving their goals until one stormy night 16 years ago today, the day a child was born bearing the clans Endless Art; The Dankestu-Mugen.

THUD

-----The loud sound of a collision against the stone walls of the training ground reverberated through the upper east wing. A space dedicated to the refinements of the budding shinobi of the clan. Here, they refine their skills in the ninja lifestyle, broken into three studies. Tai-Shi is the Study of physical arts, including weapon mastery. Nin-Shi is the practice of mysticism, and Gen-Shi is the study of illusion. Ten of the clan promising youth sparing alongside five young adult elites. This spar was between Keito, a junior disciple, and Vern, a senior.

-----Keito is a 13-year-old from the Urso family. The Grizzly clan descends from a tribe of ruthless barbarians native to Mek who, under the leadership of Tero, the first of the Shi, came to practice Emhemerals Arts. These shinobi have a knack for enhancement-centered arts. They were known for their quick tempers and overprotective natures. At nearly 5, he was rescued from an Owaki farm where they bred Shi ninjas to serve as their indentured militia. Despite his brash nature, Keito is a promising student of the Orochi fist, rooted in using precise, powerful blows to incapacitate targets swiftly.

------Vern, a senior disciple raised within the syndicate since birth, was considered to be a late bloomer as his Dankestu did not awaken until his early tens. Despite this, his prowess in all other areas, particularly weapon-based Tai-Shi and the clans' founding Ephemeral art known as Nestu made him a force to be reckoned with. One of only five practitioners of the clan's deadliest arts, the Rhym style. Born from the Flonne clan, who migrated to Mek from the plains of Dhshionen.Known as the house of severing, these shinobi have a deep connection to matters of the arcane, coupled with their sharp intellect, which grants them a natural understanding of Nin-Shi. Their pink hair and light green eyes are getting markers of their long-standing bloodline. He has been gunning for the spot of the head of the Descendants since his childhood, and his ambition would see none other than him as the one to revive the clan's name through Edo.

"Come now, Keito, this can be all you've got."

-----Vern said, standing over the young Urso with an oppressive air of superiority. In the early days, their clans once warred with each other commonly. However, with the disillusionment of the great clan, civil disputes are no longer a concern. Still, though, some bad blood runs deep. The Floones' humble disposition did not aid their social standing among the other families. However, few could argue about their ability to back up their sharp tones.

*Keito Spits*

"I thought you said you were gonna surpass me? At the rate you're going, you couldn't beat a turtle in a race against a snail fufu"

He chuckled as he candidly flipped his hand through his hair. Keito wiped the blood from his lips, clenching his teeth in frustration.

"Fucking Flonne, thinking you're better than everyone else, I'LL SHOW YOU!"

-----He rose to his feet and took a stance that began rapidly propagating his naten. Doing so causes the heat around him to spike rapidly, making the air around them increasingly drier by the second. The potency of this energy erupted into a dome of the force around him that he quickly, yet hastily, condensed into his fist.

"Oh, Please do."

-----Vern whispered as he settled into his stance. His eyes narrowed, and the green serpent-like retinas diligently observed the boys. Despite the power emanating from Keito, Vern seemed just as disinterested as before. Keito, observing this, grew even angrier, taking off in a burst of speed that cracked the earth slightly.

"Sinder Style, Sweltering Fist!!"

-----Accosting his sparring partner in a rather impressive speed display, his blow aimed for his gut with enough searing heat to send it straight through him like a burning cannonball.

"Not bad kid...but."

-----Just as he was about to strike him, the temperature around Vern's left hand became uncannily cold, forming a blade of ice around it. A powerful voice boomed in the room as they were about to clash.

"Enough!"

-----Both men stopped dead in their tracks with their respective arbiters still active. Behind the other disciples and , an older man stepped forward. Although blindfolded, he was far from feeble. The air around him demanded immediate respect from the other Shi. He was clad in a flowing white garment adorned with several golden snake stitches, exonerating his clan's connection to serpents. His body was riddled with scars that told of his countless battles but more of his ability to survive them—a cauldron of experience and skill that dwarfed the others: Yin Ri'ore, the current head of the syndicate.

"Yin-dono! I was just about to...."

-----Keito's blazing fist dissipated before he glared at Vern, who was smirking arrogantly.

"Silence, boy, you were about to do nothing but get yourself killed. You are too soft-hearted, Keito, far too malleable by your emotions. It makes you easy to read, a predictable shinobi..."

"Is a dead one..."

-----He recounted in a disappointed tone.

"A snake monitors its prey, analyzes it, and only after assuring the perfect time does it strike to kill, for there may not be a second chance...Go, tend to your injuries, then return to basics for further conditioning"

-----Keito begrudgingly bowed to Vern, who was smirking snarkily at his clansmen; he could feel the intensity of his teacher's aura, which caused him to tighten up his disposition instinctively.

"And you, Vern, your arrogance will lead you to self-destruction. Regardless of power, any beast can prove dangerous when its survival is on the line."

-----He spoke as he made his way to the center of the training area, his deliberate steps not impeded by his inability to see. Sunless were trained in conditions that increased their other senses to uncanny levels, as one who carried the significance of the Shi's restoration on his shoulders. Weaknesses cannot be tolerated, and neither can overconfidence.

"Perhaps the fault is mine. You have grown immensely. Even from here, I can tell your potential is ready to shed its current skin. How about facing someone in the same echelon?"

----The head stepped forward, and the room collectively gasped. Was the head of the clan himself meant to face Vern? Vern could be seen intimated by this offer, but to protest against it would show that he would cower in the face of a powerful enemy. Not only would that disparage him in front of the juniors and his fellow seniors, but it would also be likened to a snake allowing itself to starve.

"Yin-dono, it would be an honor to face you."

-----He said with a half-confident look on his face. Despite the man being advanced in years, Yin, also known as the Great Yin-Fang. He was a practically peerless shinobi. A beyond profile master of several forms of Ephemeral Arts, who made a legend for himself having freed many of the enslaved shi singly handled. The fact that he was sunless only made his legendary accomplishments more notable. A mortal man who has lived as he has been said to have lived three centuries, guiding the syndicate youth through a means unknown to him.

"I will not be your opponent. I would not wish to see such a promising shi robbed of his future so soon."

-----The others chuckled, sparking a bit of irritation in Vern's face.

"Number 5; Shadowfang, to me...."

-----The chuckles from earlier began to turn into a hymn of hushed whispers.

"Wait, did he just say Number 5? That freak with the mask?"

"Yeah, I heard he's not even sunless, but they make him wear it anyway, probably because he has a fucked up face. I heard the guy was a monster."

"Quiet, you idiots, freak or not. He's still the only son of Yang-dono, Yin-sama's son."

"Lot of good being the grandson of the clan heads does him; I hear they treat him more like a weapon than a person."

"The Junior? Yin-dono, I implore you, I would much rather face...."

Hissss

-----Before he could finish his sentence, Vern felt a sinister chill accompanied by a low, menacing serpent hiss. His face became pale, as he had just seen a ghost with every hair on the nape of his neck standing. An aura of simmering shadow wisped around them, fading into nothing, and in its place, a tall, imposing figure clad in dark garments bearing an Oni mask. His lithe body is a monolith of excellent physical condition. He was sleeveless with his arms mirroring a canvas displaying a mural of scars. His hands gloved, resting contently in his pockets with a pair of wakizashi blades in a black sheath on his hips. Around his neck would be a small black serpent, his familiar Kuro. The serpent glared intently at Vern. He was itching to strike at him should he move even a muscle. For a single instance, Vern felt frozen, like he had venom in his veins.

"..."

-----The training ground fell into a cold, dark silence, and none of them, save for Yin himself, could sense his presence until he was already behind Vern. Had he been here the entire time? Observing the various sparring matches? Or did he materialize from Vern's shadow? None of them could be sure, and that bewilderment was possibly Shadowfang's most dangerous trait.

"Tch..."

Vern sucked his teeth as she regained his compose and poker face. Shadowfang made his way to the opposite of the arena, standing beside Yin.

"Senior disciple, you believe your eyes will grant you victory against any foe. While the Dankestu is a fearsome anthem, it has many drawbacks. To have a mindset that would depend on it so frivolously will only result in you being consumed by your power. So you will face Shadowfang, a junior disciple forbidden from not only using his Dankestu, he is barred from using his eyes at all...."

"Sir...He's practically a su-"

Yin's murderous intent cascaded through the arena, filling the trainees' hearts with an invaluable destination of dread.

"A what?"

Vern quickly backpedaled on his statement.

"That feeling, that instinct, Vern..."

Shadowfangs voice cut through the murderous aura like a blade.

"Is Fear."

With his mask on, it was impossible to tell what expression the junior disciple had on his face, but from his tone of voice, Vern could infer it was a coky, dismissive one. That was his thing, and he didn't take kindly to it being turned on him.

"Heh, do you know what people call you? The Dog Of Shi. The loyal pet of the clan. You bark and bite on command…just a pair of pliers called upon to do the clan's dirty work…I don’t see a damn thing special about you."

Shadowfang's right hand is tightened to a fist. Though hidden in his pockets, Yin could tell he reacted to the Flonne's words.

"That's enough banter. Vern, you may use all three schools of study and all techniques available. Shadow Fang, you are only to use Tai-shi."

"Understood."

The others were shocked, Vern himself taken aback.

"I'm trying my hardest not to feel insulted here. But..."

Vern fluently slipped into the founding stance of the Orochi fist.

"Orders are orders. You were put under the same intense conditions as the Sunless, even though you aren't one. So, defeating someone like you won't be too bad."

"...."

He said nothing further; having been given an objective, his mind immediately focused on the task. Even though the Flonne words managed to irk him a bit once Number 1 gave his directive, it was like a switch went off in Shadowfangs head. Nothing else but the mission mattered. It was true, though he was not Sunless; he had lived his entire life in the same obscurity. Never having glanced at the sun even once, his whole life has only been the shadows. The training regime for the sunless is an excrutiaing and perilous lifestyle that not all of them make it through. Only those with elite skills can hone their senses to the superhuman levels needed to function without sight. The most outstanding example of this is Yin himself. Still, despite the head of the clan being Sunless, some do not view them as the driving powers. But it was not only his enhanced sense that made him a threat, it was the extent he understood the founding studies of Emphemral arts. Vern was about to experience firsthand why a junior disciple had surpassed him, becoming number five in the clan's top ten shinobi. He casually slipped into a stance where his footing mirrored Vern's; however, his hands remained in his pocket. Vern glared at him. Was he seriously underestimating a senior disciple?

"Yeah, I'm gonna take you down..."

Shadowfang nodded, provoking him further. Vern gritted his teeth before darting off with impressive speed. He performed a series of evasive maneuvers as he quickly closed the gap, trying to throw the masked one off balance. He released a strike from the left, which Number 5 fluently evaded.

"...."

Another strike, this time from the right, but just as nimbly avoided as if he were swinging at the wind.

"Come on, Vern...."

Another strike and a miss.

"This is what passes for Senior these days? What a joke."

The condescending tone Shadowfang spoke with infuriated Vern to no end. The Flonne were naturally gifted SHinobi and were typically held in high esteem by the families. However, despite their prowess, they have always paled in comparison to the Ri're, the direct bloodline of Tero, the purebloods. Vern wished to prove that even the Flonne could become leaders who could bring back their former glory. Every day of his life was spent training for this. And yet, this runt was evading him so effortlessly like he was trash.

"You sure bark loud, dog; how about you show me some bite!"

He said as he fell for Shadowfang's tactics like a moth to a flame. Part of being a Shinobi was observing and exploiting an opponent's weaknesses and vulnerabilities. They are taught to kill the ego, as taking the words of others personally can lead to blind spots. Vern used this tactic to draw the young man in when facing someone weaker than him. Shadowfang, with but a few well-placed words, had got him dancing to his own tune.

"...."

He said nothing. Vern unleashed a fearsome array of attacks despite the fury behind them. These strikes were not solely placed but were well-timed and calculated blows aimed at Shadowfang's nervous system. If even one hit the corresponding limbs, it could become temporarily lethargic. The foundational use for the Orcihi Fist style of combat. It's standard for a shinobi whose anthem requires time to unleash fully. However, Shadowfang avoided each blow despite his prowess, with an almost disinterested body language with a few coming close to striking yet never meeting their mark.

"Shit...he's fast, not just fast; it's almost like he's predicting my moments. Well... let's see how he handles this."

Pivoting off his last attack in a serpentine-like fashion, he made a swift set of hand signs as he slid back, spinning on the ball of his foot. Ice began to form on the heel of his other before he lunged back towards Shadowfang.

"Orochi Style; Second Fang. Venom strike:

He unleashed a devastating kick with enough force to shatter a boulder-like glass, extending its attack range by manifesting an ice spike along the heel of his foot—a powerful combination of Tai-shi and Rhyme style nestu. However, Shadowfang knew how to respond. The second fang was a dastardly technique, and when conjoined with Nin-Shi and even deadly arbitor, it made. He narrowly evaded the attack in a burst of speed, now balancing on his right leg.

"Shit!"

Pivoting from his right leg to his left, he shifted his stance.

"Orochi Style; Fourth Fang"

Bring his left leg down, landing a furious counterkick. Kuro nestled cozily under him like a scarf.

"Viper..."

His words callously slither off his tongue as his kick landed decisively into Vern's left shoulder blade with enough force to shatter his collarbone upon impact. The pain was nearly unbearable, and the sudden force almost knocked him out cold. But he did not fold. Though Vern was an arrogant shinobi, his standing as a senior disciple was not given mistakenly. It would take more than this to crumble the will of a Shi; of course, Shadowfang was aware of this and was counting on it.

"You bast-"

"Fifth Fang"

Shadowfang's bloodlust flared around him as he did so, manifesting an image of a massive black serpent. Using his opponent's refusal to fall to his advantage, and followed up with a flash of two additional roundhouse kicks.

"Mamba"

The power of the other two strikes sent him spiraling through a group of lower-classmen who barely avoided him as he crashed into the wall next to the place he had Keito earlier. Only the impact of the Shadowfang assault was twice as significant. A heavy quiet claimed the room as the dust settled. Once it did, Vern was unconscious under a small rubble of stone. However, Shadowfangs bloodlust had not been quelled. The malice of his aura only continued to grow.

"Enough...well done, Shadowfang."

"This is what we've been reduced to? Pompous airheads who overestimate their worth..."

"Wait...that aura...it's happening again."

Yin's expression became shocked before immediately settling into a firm, resolute expression. Was number five ignoring his word?

"Heh, do you know what people call you? The Dog Of Shi. The loyal pet of the clan. You bark and bite on command…just a pair of pliers called upon to do the clan's dirty work…I don’t see a damn thing special about you."

Vern's words from earlier rang the make one's head. Fueling his smoldering fury even more. He was finding it difficult to contain his anger. Or, more clearly, his disappointment. For all his talk of superiority, even skilled as he was, he wasn't even a challenge.

"I have never known the face of the sun nor how light dances upon the horizon. My life is shadow, my day is dark, night perennial."

He neared the unconscious Veryn, grabbing him by his hair.

"I am the darkness of shinobi personified, a demon. A weapon, or tool I may be, but I. AM. NO.DOG"

He said, reaching for his blade—his malice, his desire to kill, taking over.

"Number 5; Stand down"

A deep voice commanded the entire room, stopping Shadowfang in his tracks. His hands trembled from fury and fear of who the voice belonged to.

"Father..."

"Now..."

An abominable aura baptized the room in its spiritual force like the weight of a mountain pressing the earth beneath it. This dread eviscerated Shdowfangs aura to the ribbon, deescalating him without needing a finger. Without a second to spare, the figure was before him. Number 2; vice-captain of the Descendants; Yang-Shi.

Instinctively, Shadowfang released Vern and bowed before his father. Yang had an imposing, unwelcoming air about him, edifying terror and inspiration in the hearts of his clan and any enemies lucky enough to live. He was a the backbone of movement with a prolific understanding of old wisdom. He was also in charge of keeping Shadowfang's dark tendencies in check.

"Shinobi Law; first tenant."

"Number 2...I"

"Are you going to make me repeat myself?"

The medics came behind him, making sure not to get too close, as they placed Vern on a stretcher and took him to the infirmary.

"Shinobi must kill their ego and snuff out their emotions."

"Correct. What does it matter if you are a dog or not? The only thing that matters..."

"Is the mission..."

Shadowfang passively said. His embarrassment was not at this display before his father but rather that he had drawn his ire. Losing control like that was a sign of weakness and unrestrained. It was unacceptable to one aiming to stand at the number one spot.

"Your lack of control caused you to disobey a directive from Number 1. Do you think yourself his equal? His better?"

His tone demanded an answer, a swift one.

"No...Number 2, of course not."

"You will make up for this...vulnerability, at the stones. You will practice strikes until the boulders are crimson. You are dismissed."

Shadowfangs hands gripped tight at the sands. But he quickly composed himself. If he was one day to succeed him, he had to get a tighter hold of his impulses...of his urge to kill. He lifted himself from his prostrated position before bowing slightly, then turning his back to them and leaving the arena for the stones.

"The rest of you take heed. The Shi has no use for arrogant guppies. You are but ore to be molded. And crafted into instruments of rebellion and liberation for our family. Hubris is not an option....as you were."


They collectively bowed before resuming their training.

"A word, Yang-Sama"

Ushering him to take a walk back to his dwellings. With a quaint sigh, Yang followed. Eventually, they made it to their destination. Yin's domain was modest, considering the length of his legacy. However, being forced to live under a mountain means one must make do with what one has. The decor was laded with pillows of satisfactory quality. Though subterrains, their connections were widespread in the Edolian underworld, so managing to get the necessary times to make these caves a home was certainly within their grasp.

“Careful how tight your leash is, Number 2. Lest your dog begins to resent the hands that feed it.”

“I understand your reservations, Yin-dono. I Have seen the darkness lurking in his heart. There is a devil behind his eyes. If it is not contained…”

“The mission of the Descendants is the liberation of Shi, not to cuff our own like wild animals.”

“With all due respect, Number 5…”

“Your son…”

“….”

He refrained from getting agitated.

Is dangerous, unrefined. His rage is like lava; it seethes and boils; he must be Jared. His Dankestu eludes to a bigger cause of concern."

“ It is true, number five…Jao possesses possess the blood of the Mystic one. In four short years, he has managed to go from 10th to 5th…and has never disobeyed an order. Until today... I am no fool…the Nether Serpent stirs. But what do you suppose happens when magma is pressured for too long?“

“He is a weapon, a tool forged to suit the aims of the clan…to allow him casual will is to invite a bomb with a lit fuse.”

“Those aims are to see our people rise above oppression. How can we send him out to free others yet bind him ourselves? Casual will? Yang, you are beginning to sound more like the Owaki than Shi.”

His words sliced through Yang's composure like a well-placed kunai.

“Excuse me?”

His nostrils flared

“What’s is this? Are you lecturing about compassion? Where was this mindset when I was being raised?”

“Compassion? Tell me, Yang…do you know what it is like to be Sunless? The horror of having your light stolen from you, forced to live in a constant state of darkness?”

“I do not…”

“Nearly two centuries now, and not a single day goes by, I don’t miss the beauty of sunset. Curb your tongue…”
Yin took a deep breath as Yang readjusted his position.

“For Jao, it's different. He has never even seen the sun. He has never seen the face of the man he admires most…he fights for no other reason than being told that is what he was born to do. He has never laid eyes on the very place his body is scarred for. His strength of mind and ambition are so powerful that he fights for the very idea of something alone. I must say...even I can't imagine what that's like."

“Ngh….shinobi do not need personalities; we were raised from the most chaotic times in Edo. We are warriors second and agents of war first. And father and sons last. Number 5…”

A pause.

"His faith in the clan, as devout as he is, is only akin to his respect for you and proving himself worthy of his position in the Shi ten. By his words and arrogant display today, facing his opponent without using his hands…he is becoming bored. When have you ever known a Shi to be content with being forced to hold back?"

“Jao...is aware of this and why he is under such…constraints. “

He poured himself a cup of tea before taking a seat.

“Does he now?”

He motioned for his son to sit. He hesitantly obliged.

“When do you plan to tell the boy the truth of his birth? Do you plan to send him to face the Yaaru unawares? Do you not think he ponders it? About his mother.”

“It…is not time”

“Do you not know what today is? There’s no more time, Yang….he must know. He cannot hope to tame the Djynn you do not let him get used to his full power.

“But Yin Dono…”

“Your resentment of him for Suzaku's death and fear of his potential will only hinder his growth. Should his fang ever turn against us…”

“Won’t happen; Jao is completely loyal to the clan…loyal to me.”

"But have you proven loyal to him? He need more reason to fight than just his fear of you, more pointedly, his fear of disappointing you.”

Yang's cold-blooded gaze softened slightly under the pressure of his father's words.

"What led to our family's downfall many years ago? Lack of power and viciousness?"

"....."

"There are as many reasons as there are stars that something could happen and even more of the ones that wished something had not happened. I believe it was a lack of trust. Ain tried to bear the weight of Edo's change on his shoulders. So wrapped into his power he build a wall between him and those who followed him…I’m sure he felt they were too weak to help carry his burden. If we expect Jao to do the same, he needs to be better than the last vessel. He needs to know that he has people he can depend on,Yang. His father, most of all.

His demeanor sharpened.

“That is an order…after all. Today is the boy's 16th birthday. See to it that you tell him what to expect at the very least...”

“Understood…”

With that, Yang got up and left Yin's chambers. Leaving the head to ponder their exchange. He took a sip of his tea and released a satisfied sigh.

"Our goal is to liberate the family. But are we truly ready to pay the cost of that freedom, I wonder?"

He looked at Yang's cup, still full of tea.

"Peh, such a wasteful child..."

-----Several hours later-----

Towards the lower west side of Basilisk Valley are catacombs known as stones, dubbed such as the expanse is saturated in naten to a degree where the stones repair themselves when shattered over time. This area was used to train or punish shi ninjas. It was typically viewed as an off-putting assignment as the like of light and cold draft made it uncomfortable for most. But Jao and the other 9 of the Shi ten used them regularly. Jao, in particular, had always found the space comfortable and familiar. He aspired to emulate the concept of stone.

Steadfast, unyielding, unwavering, but recently, he has been finding it increasingly difficult to control his impulses. They came like thick heartbeats and incredible hunger pains. It was not so concerning initially because of their curse; Shi needed to replenish themselves with a steady supply of souls to keep it at bay. For reasons still unknown to him, Jao has a hunger more voracious than any they have seen and is only allowed to manifest his power when it is time to feed. Until this point, they have kept his feedings at the bare minimum, not allowing him to feed until his hunger reaches his apex, foreshadowed by his cursed aura manifesting around him. He becomes defiant and more ruthlessly merciless as if entirely overtaken by a different ego.

"Ha!"

He cried out as his fist struck a massive rock formation. Jao was raised never to question, execute commands flawlessly, never to ponder directives. His thoughts, concerns, wants, and needs, to bottle them all down for the sake of liberation. His life's purpose was the freedom of the sunless and the death of the lords that pressed them. But, in the last few months, Jao has found himself questioning his purpose and the purpose of a clan that cannot house his full potential. His response to Vern's words, his violent outburst... reflected this introspection. Why must he be collard? What does fighting for someone too afraid to even be near him mean? What would he have to do to prove himself worthy of his power? The right to wield it as he saw fit. Perhaps this notion was the issue; this thinking caused friction between his concerns and the ideals he was raised to uphold.

"HA!"

With a little more force this time, he sent a slight tremor through the earth. His form was that of a master, poise, and well-polished. His strikes were diligent and intentional and passed a fluid strength he could escalate and de-escalate as he saw fit. So why...why did no one around him trust him? As much as he risked his life for them, the blood is spilled, his flesh marred, and yet....an outcast, he reminded.

"HA!!!"

His emotions grew as his fist tightened in intense frustration. His next blow was so powerful that it sent his fist through the stone, causing it to split in many directions before being reduced to rubble. Behind him were many other shattered stones that healed in complex formations. His knuckles were raw, yet he found solace in the stinging pain. This was a testament that he still lived, capable of feeling something in a lifestyle that would have him wallow its surface like an undead. As his blood dripped into the dusty pool of crimson beneath him, Kuro, his serpent, slithered down to his hand, where it gingerly began to lap up the blood on his wounds. As if trying to comfort him in some small way.

"What do you think, Kuro? Am I a good boy? A loyal pup wagging his tail for his masters?"

The serpent opened its mouth and spit its venom onto his hands. Kuro was a unique creature; its venom could destroy or restore tissue depending on the creature's intentions. Jao, at the time, created a parable of this trait. A blade is only as dangerous as the one who wields it; he wished the others understood; the only one he wanted to wield his blade for was the Shi. But he was reaching a dangerous point of resentment. At the rate they were going, they were barely putting a dent in the slave trade of their kind in Edo. Last year, they had only successfully dismantled three Owaki farms and one Yaaru compound of a lesser family. It was great they were able to support some rather than nuns, but when he thought of the screams of his people, the torture they must have endured at the hands of the other families, and their prevented prejudices... it lit a fire in him that he found nearly impossible to put out.

"Why do they waste time worried about me? When our people beg for scraps, their bodies burned and proded, mutilated. Their cries of anguish sometimes claw out to me in my sleep...I've never shared this with anyone but you, Kuro."

His wounds began to gradually heal as the venom and healing factors worked in unison to see his wounds. The shattered stones started to glow with a soft green naten and began slowly reforming themselves together. Kuro, content with his work, slighted back up to Shadow fangs neck and snuggled back under him.

"I've always felt...bound to the others. In a way that I don't think even they understand. I can feel them...sense them. Though I can't see them, this fight is deeper for me than others might think. But...I am shinobi..."

He turned his back to the reformed stone and casually stared at his hand as he sheepishly slid down the stone until he was sitting on the catacomb floors.

"In that, my father is right. Shinobi must hide the sleeves of their heart, these thoughts, these emotions....bitter distractions that could leave me open and taken advantage of. If I let my emotions kill me, then who will carry on my mission..."

Whosssssse....Missssssion...

A voice slithered into his mind, its influence cold and sinister voided, giving him a tighter headache like his thoughts were coiling around his brain. He held his head in pain as the piercing agony worsened.

"Who... who's there!"

The voice did not answer; he felt his heart beat quicker, his body writhing as his hunger palpated. A bleak aura began manifesting around him as he gripped his chest and abdomen.

"To save them...Embrace....shadow...embrace...power.... choossseee chaossssss."

His mind was beset by a cacophonous hissing that was almost maddening. He writhed, his face twisted in despair beneath his mask.

"Slacking off again, Number 5?"

And then...silence. Just like that, his father's voice, as if scared away the pangs, cut through the heinous hissing in his mind and, with it, the terrible stress around his mind.

"The Dark Pulse..."

His father said it with a slightly worried tone that almost carried concern. Shadowfang took an exasperated breath, trying to regain his senses. He should've expected his father to appear; he was never too far when they were in the valley, as if he was always watching. Most people would find anxiety over this, but for Jao, it was comforting, even if his gaze was an ostracizing one. Whether it was because Jao felt his father cared for him or was maintaining his tool...in some ways, mattered little to him.

"Fat...Number 2."

Jao quickly tried to gather himself to present himself properly. As he did so, Yang observed the pool of blood and the restructured terrain before looking at his son again. His arms folded as he released a sigh; he hated it when Yin was right. However, even with that being the case, Yang knew what his father did not know: the stories of the Nether Serpent were more accurate than the fables handed down as tails of caution for Shi with the newly awakened Dankestu. He had witnessed these vast differences between the clan's curse and the one that his son carried. A gaze that he narrowly escaped...one that his love, Suzaku, Jao's mother, did not.

"The Pulses, they have been increasing a lot lately...it seems your grandfather, in all his infinite wisdom. Was correct, it is time."

Shadowfang gathered himself, standing up now before Yang.

"They've never come this strong before...and this time..."

"This time?"

He was hesitant, but his father was the only person besides Kuro who did not step timidly around him. Who didn't view him as a freak? A danger, yes, but not a freak.

"I...heard a voice...like that...of a snake."

Yang's eyes narrowed his crimson serpentine leer, accompanied by a long silent pause that made Jao tense.

"Then it is as I feared...it's starting to awaken."

Shadowfangs body became a cauldron of confusion, apprehension, and weariness; it felt like his father was speaking in riddles.

"Number 5, follow me; there is...much for us to discuss."

Though bewildered, he did not hesitate after being given a directive. His father had never been one for...conversation. But whatever he needed to tell him, there were notes of uncertainty in his words that could not be hidden from Jao. What could be so intimidating that it would worry even a seasoned shinobi like Yang? The only way for him to find out was to follow his father deeper into the catacombs, where he might finally be given the understanding he has begun to crave.

The duo traversed deeper into the catacombs. Though Jao had spent time exploring down here throughout his life, he had always been advised not to go beyond a certain point. Not for fear of creatures hidden in the darkness of the caverns but for the space that existed only reserved for the top three of the Shi 10, the strongest of the clan and the pillars of its existence. Was it that place, then? And if so, as only number 5, what purpose could he possibly have there? Again, with the overthinking and speculation. Ninja do not obsess over a future that they may very well not make it to. Yet try as he might, he could not suffocate his curiosity.

"...."

Jao walked a few steps behind his father, this goliath among shinobi a pinnacle he hoped to both reach and surpass. His relationship with him had always been... complex. Yang raised him with an iron fist molded from the continuous shinobi doctrine. He was his teacher, defender, suppressor, and sometimes even his oppressor. And yet, despite some newly developing notions of resentment, he was also the only person aside from Yin who was adamantly invested in his life. Jao, had never had the chance to meet his mother, he was told she died when he was very young, but that she was also a fearsome Konouchi revered in her lifetime, yet no one, even the elders Yin hisemfl included have ever spoken a whisper about her. Nothing was mourning her place in the clan...it was like she never existed.

"...."

His father was silent as they continued forth. Neither of them had said a word thus far, which was awkward. Yang has always been a man of few words, so for him to use a phrase like "We need to talk" already had Jao's anxiety high. His reaction to Jao's Dark pulses was becoming increasingly problematic. Perhaps he had finally gotten tired of swaddling a liability and was coming here to end it all.

"Still your heart, Shadowfang..."

The young shinobi's head, though low rose, shocked, how could he tell?

"I don't need Sunless training to hear your heartbeat from here."

"Oh...I..."

Yang stopped, which prompted Shadowfang to do the same.

"Your grandfather believes it is time we...release your restraints. To garnish...sigh...."

It was like pulling teeth for him to...speak this way. But Yin's words were as precise as the blades he would and just as sharp.

"To earn trust, we must first begin trusting you. Yin is convinced you can shoulder what that means."

Jao stood in disbelief. The fact that a word like trust came from his father's lips, though it was Yin's decree, shocked him.

"I, however, do not. You are an extremely skilled Shinobi—Jao. Whispers of your fearsome power are already spoken of the tongues of Edo's powerful as a tale of caution while the underworld speaks of your ruthlessness. You exemplify almost every facet of the old shinobi way. Like a deathly viper, you strike fast and lethal, a natural slayer..."

Behind his mask was a largely bewildered countenance. Was this...praise?

"But your innate power has built an air of reckless superiority around you; you find these restraints to symbolize how vastly different you are from others of the clan. As much as you lament their prejudice against you, you have done nothing to try to prove them any differently. Trufthlly that matters more to Yin-dono than myself."

Jao adjusted his stance, a clear sign of discomfort, but he knew not to take this moment lightly; it may never come again.

" I can care less about who likes you or myself; this isn't a popularity contest. What I do care about is the rift growing within our ranks. People must have faith that even if they fall to death, their comrades will see it through and not risk endangering the mission because they can't hold their water. Though deadly separately, Shi is a stampede of shadows as a unit. A typhoon that can bring kingdoms to ruin. You need to understand something and hear me well, boy."

He turned to face his son, his eyes carrying a heavy word.

"Those restraints are not placed just because you are strong; within you, Jao is an ancient darkness that could very well plunge Edo back into an age of chaos, the era that first gave rise to the need for Shinobi. You Endless Art an inheritance of the one who was its vessel, our ancestor Ain's."

Shadow's posture did not change despite his father's words. He had his precautions; every Shi knows of Ain's legend, the curse he held, and the legacy of the being that gave it to him: Aphosis, the Nether Serpent.

"These restraints are medals of weakness, proof of your susceptibility. Aphosis is a deviously haughty deity with but one wish: to devour all in its path and return to godhood. You are impressionable, and the djynn will make a meat puppet of you. Bent to its will, Ain nearly brought Edo to its knees...but in exchange, Ains callously sent many Shi to their deaths; by the end of his reign, he no longer viewed them as the family he needed to rely on; his hubris divided him from those who saw him as their sun...The Dankestu is not the shi's only heirloom; we also inherit the pomposity..."

Yang stepped closer and placed his hand firmly on Jao's shoulders. The weight of his father's warning seeped deep into him, though he struggled to understand it fully. He did get the just of it. Shadowfang did not care for many of his companions the same as they did not care for him; they believed he was a danger to both them and his enemies, a chained beast that would lash out at any moment, and he thought them to be weaklings incapable of shouldering the clan duties, that he alone with the Shi 10 held that right. But...that very thinking was causing the friction to begin with.

"How you wield this power, how you respond to the demands of a god, will once again determine the fate of the Shi. Trust should not be so freely given, so I will give you a chance to earn mine."

He felt his father's arm tense on his shoulder, something he used to do when Jao was a child, still struggling to navigate his lack of sight. To let him know he was on the right track, this minute display of affection always grounded him. A feeling he had not received from Yang since he joined the 10. But one that fortified his resolve. Yang turned from him and continued down the corridor. Jao said nothing in response to his father's words, just a solemn kind but one that confirmed he knew what was at stake. Finally, after 16 years, he would prove to his father that he was ready to carve his name into the Shinobi world and give reason to fear Denkou-Shi again.

Not shortly after he spoke those words, they came across a door ; it was grafted from stone that differed from the rest of the mountain. This peculiar scent alone altered Jao of what was before him.

"That scent, Ophidian?"

Shi settled in Mek because of the stone that could be considered their most remarkable discovery post-Ains's inception. Ophidian is a nigh impervious metal that, when heated, becomes aqueous. It has completely revolutionized how the Shi craft armor and weaponry, which is the highest contributing factor to their ability to fight on par with the vastly accelerated technology of the modern age. However, Ophidian is a rather tricky metal to manipulate as the temperatures needed and its interaction with the stone to give it its liquid state is so intricate it is otherwise useless. However, through their mastery of Nestu, the shi can unlock its secrets. Jao is amongst the more prolific of its wielders. His unique infrared vision forged by his surgeon-like use of Nestu affords him a distinctive perspective on how thermal energy flows; with his uncanny naten control, he has developed an Ephemeral art first of its kind in his clan. Dark Matter, Ophidian that he can bend to his will. This ability, this prodigious development, informed his rapid rise in the 10.

"Hmm...Runes, old...still humming."

In the days long past, Shi was intimately tied to the land, as most earl Edolian were before the influence of the outer face. The Shi, in particular, shared a certain bond with the earth, given a sort of enhanced somatic sense that makes them sensitive to the vibrations around them. It was this bond that formed the foundation of the Sunless training. Yang smirked, a smirk so slight it had to have been the smallest percent of his facial muscles. Eyesight or not, his general perception, the speed at which he developed conclusions about the world around him. A pivotal reason as to why his father refused to coddle him. In some ways, he saw more of the world and how it all intersect in ways that people with vision took for granted. Perhaps that was the meaning behind Yin's word of admonishment. He had taught him well. In the hands of one, as connected to the unseen as him, he could sense the "humming" of energy.

"Indeed, this door was created when we first settled here, crafted from Ophian we brought over from Zaria, our homeland. Behind it is a vault containing several powerful Shi artifacts, those we could recover at least before our castle, Dominace, was overrun. "

He turned back to Jao.

"But before we enter this place...there is the matter of you earning my trust. The return of the wingless one is a certainty at this point, so instead of waiting until it decides to make a move, I will bring it here. By facing you in battle. "

Jao's body tensed up; somehow, he knew that would be his stipulation. Oddly, though, apart from his revered Yang, the warrior in him has always wanted to test his mantle against him in a battle of no holds barred. To see for himself how vast the gap between two and five was.

"..."

"In this battle, I will hold nothing back; I will unleash every possible ounce of my strength to bring you down. I would advise that you hold nothing back from me...even your gaze."

This, though, Jao did not anticipate. But that must have been part of his plan to force Aphosis to manifest. But so far away from his last meal, he was especially vulnerable to its influence. This would be a battle against not one foe but two. Whether he was ready or not, if he wished to survive or thrive, he had to be. The clearing they were in was massive, with more than enough available space for their titanic encounter. Deep within, away from prying eyes, they could finally cut loose....the ninja in him replied to the idea.

"Understood."

With that, Yang placed about 3 meters of distance between them. He nodded, and upon Jao's return, Yang became enveloped in an immense aura. It glowed with a searing red intensity that burned hot like a blazing sun. Jao, who usually does not utilize his thermal sense in everyday life, performed a single ava.

"Nestu: Sinder Canvas..."

In that, Jao generated an aura of his own, not flailing about widely nor as robustly as his father but rather blanketing itself around him with the delicacy of a veil drifting on the wind and manifesting like a wispy darkness before it sent a pulse through the domain, using the heat like a paintbrush to imprint itself on the surface of its surroundings, creating a reflection of the terrain and all heat signatures, or lack thereof, within its range. This art resonated with his Snake Jar, which housed his dark matter.

"Come Shadowfang, Let's see what all the hype is about!"

His refined muscle tensed as his aura spiked higher before it settled back down around him; as he was, he could see him plain as day and how he burned as brightly as a new dawn. He unleashed a kick with lethal power in a flare of speed. Shadowfang, with a narrow response window, troughs his arms to his side in defense, blocking his strike, feeling every bite of force behind it; his bones rattled in defiance as they resisted him. With unrelenting speed, the moment his first attack was blocked, he used the opposing force to pivot, unleashing a devastating follow-up kick that crashed into Shadowfangs jaw, cracking his mask before sending him flying toward the wall. Shadowfang recognized that maneuver, Mamba; he should've anticipated it; after all, Yang was the one who taught it to him.

"Had I unleashed it entirely, you would be dead in the stone right now...Beat me how you beat Vern! "

"Dammit, that power, that speed, I barely sensed the second attack coming...old man got a sense of humor...fine then."

Avoiding crashing into the wall, he repurposed the force of his father's strike to land on the wall, gripping his twin Wazaikashi while channeling naten into his feet to cushion the backlash and empower his response. The moment he touched the wall, he propelled him forward, leaving a large crater in his wake.

"Sinder Style: Black Divide!"

They radiated a purple hue by unsheathing the blade with fearsome speed while endowing them with his aura of nestu, increasing its slicing power. He released condensed X-shaped heatwaves before sliding on the ground, resheathing his weapons, and positioning himself for a follow-up offensive.

"Ah, spitting Cobra, fling a projectile, force evasion or."

He observed Shadowfang's fluid movements. His battle intellect was well-suited for quickly assessing his opponent, the environment, and how the latter might help him address the former.

"Defense, create an opening to strike in the chaos."

His nestu aura condensed into his bright orange right hand until the heat seethed red. With barely an effort, he slid vertically through the heat waves at the exact point they intersected, causing them to sever them in half and hit the walls behind him. Knowing his son would unleash a follow-up assault, he would go on the offensive first. His left hand met his right, locking his hand together.

"Ephemeral Art: Sinder style..."

The crimson aura enfolded both hands. Sensing the intensity of the rising temperature alarmed Jao but did not forestall his efforts. His father had trained him since infancy; it was natural for him to anticipate and adequately respond to Jao's attacks. This did not deter nor dissuade Jao. Knowing something was coming and being able to handle it were different things. As he sought to close the gap between them quickly, Shadowfang formed a swift set of hand signs; Yang recognized them; they were Urso ava, he had to admit, enhancement arts. Jao took a starkly sharp inhale of aura and air, reinforcing his body with a boost in strength and speed by increasing not only the amount of oxygen in his blood but the quality of it as well, the foundation for most of the Urso Ephemeral Arts. This art is known as Sohi, Consume.

"Fallen Star!"

With a mighty and insanely fast forward swing of his hands, his palms gripped like he was holding a sword between them; he unleashed the latest scathing hot wind that sliced through the air, aiming to cleave Shadowfang vertically from his crown.

"Ephemeral Art; Nestu: Sun Bear!"

Just as the searing wave touched him, that airy aura ignited, increasing its effects; he concentrated this surge within his legs, allowing him a "Perfect Dodge," a technique handed down through the Gamalow house. Known as the house of Diligence, they were known for having a keener intuition than any other families in the Shi. This and their daredevil attitude, coupled with their uncanny evasive abilities, made them challenging to hit; these traits molded a technique for gaining the upper hand by evading at the last possible moment. Yang observed how he seamlessly tied the different aspects of the lesser shinobi families into a tapestry of warfare. He...did not know Shadowfang was capable of this; perhaps it was more accurate to say that he didn't think his son cared about the others enough to know their traditions, let alone practice them.

"Heh, not bad."

"Orochi Style First Fang!"

In a flash of speed that, for a single instance, led Yang's sharp sense to betray him utterly, Jao appeared on his right, sliding on the earth like a serpent with its belly to the ground.

"Puncture!"

Both fists were sent crashing into his Number 2's rib cage with a devastating amount of force that even he was made to win at. "Puncture" was an arbitor that emulated the piercing power of a serpent's bite; even its more docile execution can produce enough energy and force to shatter stone and penetrate most defenses. Jao, by intermingling the principles of two other clans, created an advanced form of this art that takes the bursting momentum of "Perfect Dodge" and the blazing enchantments of the Sun Bear technique to encourage the technique's potency. This allows him to discharge a violent passion capable of taking down even someone as seasoned as Yang. The impact reverberated through his body, causing him to spit up a little blood before he was sent flying. The aura around his hand faded, and though Jao's force was great, he did not travel far, gathering naten in his feet to reduce his recovery time considerably.

"I see, your power has grown indeed, and what's more, the efficiency you will use it with. I shouldn't be so surprised; you mastered the Tai-Shi forms before your seventh birthday. Nestu by your 10th. Fine. I shall no longer face you as Number 2 nor Yang, your father. Prepare yourself, Shadowfang."

Despite the damage done to his right side, Yang paid little attention to it, as if the broken bones were trivial to him. Hindering him not in the slightest. He began a masterful weaving of ava that, upon their swift completion, introduced an incredibly rapid drop in temperatures. The blazing embers of his aura shifted almost instantly. This sudden disturbance jumbled Jao's infrared vision, disrupting the field. His aura shifted from a blazing crimson wildfire to a somber blue that gradually became pale. It oscillated around him like a personal blizzard.

"I, Iwakuni, will show you what it takes to stand amongst the pinnacle of Shi excellence!"

Iwakuni are snakes with white scales and devilish red eyes. Because they are considered so sparse, they are deemed mythical creatures, typically docile messengers of the gods in early Edolian culture. Yang was given the title for his white hair and piercing red leer, yet he is anything but docile. After rapidly cooling the already-heated environment, a thick, steamy mist is created and intertwined with naten. The temperature of this vapor continues to plummet, discharging a plume of mist capable of freezing anything caught in it as the art is released.

"Ephemeral Art; Rhyme Release; White Haze."

Shadowfang quickly dismissed his canvas; once Yang forwent Sinder for Rhyme, he knew maintaining a reliable painting would be nearly impossible. Instead, he would focus on meeting Yang's signature technique with his own. Even with his mastery of Sinder's release, it would be impossible for him to produce a force strong enough to counter his fathers...that left him with but one option—the avalanche of chilling for stamped the expanse, encasing it in a furious blanket of flash-frozen majesty.

"This technique is my specialty; the mist itself isn't all that; any Shi could create it; what makes it a lethal arbitor in my hands is the depths I can drag thermal energy and the speed at which it happens. This haze mines to influence, obscuring vision, and while my target fumbles around aimlessly, the cold coils around them like a python, strangling the warmth and life from their bodies...if they aren't readily frozen from the techniques release."

As the catacombs were filled with frosty fog, Yang unsheathed his weapon, Sazagumi, a Ninjato sword that bore a scarlet red streak down the middle of the blade. The white haze began to encircle the blade, and with a casual yet deliberate stroke, he sent a chilling wave of frigid fury towards Jao's last seen location; if he was frozen already, the slice would bisect him, and their concerns of the Nether Serpents return would be over...

The slicing gale of chilling force cut through the haze, carving through the air, aiming to sever whatever impeded its path. Its sharpness was such that it barely revealed the gradually freezing terrain. Despite the ardency of the attack, it yielded little results wanted; in fact, it was nun-flied entirely. The resulting clash momentarily disrupted the obscuring mist that unveiled Jao half-covered by helical tendrils. Their rapid rotation slowly returned to normal.

"Sinder Style; Dark Matter..."

Yang's eyes narrowed, so his specialized technique was Dark Matter. Though he had seen it in action before, that was in the early stages of Jao's creation. He had yet to experience it in its newly developed state. From the reports Yin exchanged with him through their co-facilitation of Jao's training, this technique solidified his threat level as a Shinobi. A metal that may bend may melt but never breaks, wielded with the gracefulness of water and the lethality of a blade. Jao's body was outlined with a veil of naten. Shi were capable of regulating their body temperatures. Still, against a passive death chill like the one his father's technique created, he had to apply more effort to keep his blood from freezing. Using his dark matter would also be more strenuous than usual, having to keep both him and the temperature of the metal stabilized...Yang wouldn't make this easy; he was sure of it. He could already feel his fingertips dancing between warmth and frostbite. The battle was barely heating up; however, neither had activated their Dankestu.

"Kuro Kiri"

The tendrils melded together, forming a giant serpent that gingerly coiled around his body. It seethed like living lava, dripping tiny drops of fluid onto the ground, causing the mist to intensify. Ophidian was scalding to the touch, malleably fluid, and uncannily durable; Jao wouldn't make this easy for Number 2 either.

"Rhyme Style; Timid Storm!"

The White Haze solidified, creating a myriad of frozen daggers, each carrying the freezing qualities of the haze itself. Jao was good at evading; he had even proved to have adequate defenses, but how would he fair in a battle of attrition? The fact that the serpent had yet to arise meant that even with these odds, Jao did not truly feel his life was in danger. Yang sought to change that; he wanted to make this a shorter excursion, even if that meant raising the stakes further.

"Kuro Kiri: Night Cleaver "

Though Jao could have met this storm with a ballista of his own, he knew he didn't have the time to wait for it. Yang was as seasoned as Shi came, with a stamina and naten pool that far outweighed his own despite their sharing the same bloodline traits. He was light years away from being able to go toe to toe with him Like his grandfather could. Their monthly spars could last hours, with either showing signs of fatigue. That is why he would move forward instead of signing a set of ava, the metal changed forms, becoming Kurasigama. In an impressive display of acrobatic finesse, the barrage of ice daggers seemed endless and even in his torrent of steeled offensive he did not evade or deflect them all however managing to protect his vital spots.

"A superb skill, its versatility is perhaps its most lethal trait. But..."

Taking to the air, Shadowfang tossed the blade for his father's head, to which he responded by countering the strike with his sword, still embedded with the haze's essence; in a skillful twist of his wrist, he wrapped Jao's chained weapons around his blade, and with a mighty yank of the chained flung Jao towards him,

"Ephemeral Art; Fade Step"

His body blinked a bright, almost silver color before he became like a phantom; only an afterimage of his visage remained by the time Jao could comprehend what had happened. Yang reappeared, his arm outstretched, with the chaotic blaze of his Dankestu flaring behind the cover of the haze,grabbing onto Shadowfangs mask with a starling amount of strength.

"Unbelievable, he...he completely vanished, not even a whisper of presence..."

Jao couldn't accept what had just happened. This was more than a mere show of speed; for a moment, it was like Yang didn't exist.

' I suppose you're wondering what happened."

Jao was tired enough to use his following technique, but the slightest flinch in his muscle provoked a punch to the gut that nearly knocked him out cold. Tenaciously, he hung on. Yang intensified his psalm force, cracking Shadowfangs' ask.

"Yin was the one who gave me the epithet Iwakuni, my eyes and hair. Eventually, I read more about these bizarre serpents and how many believed they did not exist, and that got me thinking."

His tone narrowed, and an intense aura came over him—one that made the hairs on Jao's neck stand up. His skin was riddled with goosebumps as dread filled the air.

' I weighed the nature of a ninja, an entity void of ego, of presence, so I created this technique. Allowing me to traverse the boundary between realms temporarily. Like a ghost..."

Traveling along the line that separates the realms is an advanced technique that comes with high risk: should one make even a single misstep, they would be trapped in the unseen, a realm that can not tolerate the living. Their physical form would be torn to shreds, and their spirit would be trapped within the veil.

He knew of Jao's defensive capabilities with Dark Matter; it was a complicated metal to face and a technique that required his total focus. One of the few ways to disable it is to disrupt that focus, which he successfully achieved. The Night Cleaver fell helplessly on the ground while Yang intensified his grip, shattering Jao's mask and revealing his face.

"You thought you stood a chance against me because you got one hit off? Get real..."

Shadowfang was practically paralyzed. Aside from Yang's awe-inspiring strength, Jao could feel it bubbling inside him. It had been some time since he had genuinely felt it.

Fear

"Gaze upon me, Jao; let me witness the darkness behind your leer again. Show me your endless art; you will not survive without it...."

His eyes shut tight, and he felt a heavy urge to take Yang up on his offer, but he couldn't. 

"Perhaps your...programming was a little too thorough. Tell me, Shadowfang, do you know the common misconception about the Shi? Furthermore, about our anthem?"

He closed his eyes.

"No, I don't suppose you do. Why would you? We've fed you only half-truths about our power, about our family. Prejudice and superstition are the main reasons the Shi's eyes are confiscated; the Shi believe their eyes are their power, and in turn, so does all of Edo....however, that is only a piece of a larger verity."

The White Haze remained active; with every passing moment, Jao found it more difficult to breathe, his Dark Matter technique dismantled, the rhythm of his nest broken. Maintaining his body temperature was taking all his focus and trying not to pass out. He barely registered Yang's words; where was he going with any of this?

"These eyes are, but the mirror's to the soul...Ain was the first to awaken the Dankestu. Still, our affliction existed far before him...starting with the founder, Tero, the original vessel of Aphosis. The eyes are one way of channeling our curse, not the only one."

Jao became noticeably shaken by this revelation; there were other ways to use the serpent's power. This news both confused and angered him. Why was this not shared amongst the sunless? Why were they not all armed with this knowledge if this was possible? So many...so many were dying, and those alive with barely anything to go on for.

"You...You've got to be joking...so...so many...suffer."

His words were faint and worn as his skin gradually became pale, the redness in his cheekiness fading.

"I...to was ignorant of this truth...until facing a warrior who, despite having no eyes, showed unworldly viciousness in battle. In this battle, I witnessed Yin-dono's true power...the understanding that separated number 1 from the rest of the clan. Instead of focusing on me, he turned the cursed gaze inwardly...upon his soul."

Yang could feel his life dwindling; the haze would take him soon.

"The Dankestu is like a mirror trying to draw out the reflection of the one gazing into it, though what if the mirror's reflection is that of the Shi using it? The answer is a technique so dangerous that Yin has forbidden its use, and he, himself, has seldomly used it...as the risk is too great."

"..."

"I told you, I will force the darkness in you to show itself....even if I have to unleash my own..."

The air around Yang became heavy, flooding the catacombs and Basilisk Valley with a heinous sensation of dread and power. Yin, meditating in his study, abruptly stopped as he immediately recognized this presence. Typically a mild-mannered man, his nostrils flared in fury.

"You... are an unruly fool, Yang...what point do you have to prove?"

Jao's heart rate raced, further straining his already vulnerable body. Still, he felt he didn't need eyes to understand the danger he was now in. Within the pits of his being, he felt a stir, like a boiling irritation building within him. But as if by instinct, he stuffed it down. Jao was a merciless shinobi with no qualms about killing, and yet...when it came to Yang, he could not bring himself to allow the darkness to be brought forth as his father wished...perhaps the one thing he truly feared was killing the people he was fighting to protect.

"Profane Embodiment"

The words hung solemnly on the atmosphere, invoking a sinister crimson ambiance that permeated Jao's consciousness as if resonating with the terror growing in his heart. Yang naten forces its way through his body, painting the perfect image of his father's inhuman ability. But then...it all fell silent, the thum of his invocation deaded, his malice seeping back into his being.