The magic beast exploded the moment one of the hunters pointed his index finger at it, aiming with precision. His blazer hummed with power as he closed one eye, steadying his shot. The explosion was instantaneous, shaking the battlefield. Jin, Baku and kira stood in awe, their eyes wide with amazement as they witnessed high-ranking hunters in action.
All around them, hunters unleashed their skills. One moved with overwhelming speed, his well-honed swordplay reducing a beast to nothingness in mere seconds. The air buzzed with energy, the battlefield a symphony of destruction and mastery.
"What an amazing sight... The hunters are so strong," Jin muttered, his eyes gleaming with admiration and newfound aspiration.
"I'll catch up to their level soon," kira said, his gaze unwavering, determination burning in her eyes.
"Mhm," Baku hummed, nodding in agreement. "Me too."
---
Two Hours Earlier...
Jin was deep into his daily sword training at the kami Clan dojo, paired with kira and Baku, a direct descendant of the prestigious Ryu Clan and heir to its representation. They moved in unison, their blades slicing through the air as the dojo master barked orders.
"Right! Left! Down!" he commanded.
The clashing of wooden swords echoed through the training ground, their movements disciplined and sharp. But then, mid-command, the master suddenly stopped.
"Right le-!"
His voice cut off abruptly. A shiver ran down his spine as he sensed something—something unnatural. His gaze snapped to the sky, but there was nothing visible. Yet, the ominous presence lingered. Tightening his grip on his sword, he barked an urgent command.
"Drop the wooden blades and get inside! Don't come out until I say so! All warriors, grab your katanas and be on guard!"
Confusion flickered across the students' faces, but the urgency in their master's voice left no room for hesitation. His usual yelling was meant to intimidate them into discipline, but this time, his words carried something else—fear.
The students obeyed, retreating into the dojo, sealing the doors behind them. Inside, they formed a circular defensive unit, gripping their seven-inch blades with tense anticipation.
Outside, high above the dojo, three strange beings hovered in the sky, whispering among themselves.
"The First Twelve plan to use this planet as a revival sacrifice for their creator," one murmured.
"The Source?" another inquired.
"It's reliable ," the first confirmed.
"How dull," a third interjected. "Unacceptable. We won't allow it. Their creator must remain dead."
"Enough talking. Let's lay waste to this place and report to the Oregons."
Without further hesitation, they raised their hands. Almost instantly, the skies darkened at various locations, and space itself seemed to fracture. From the cracks poured forth an unholy swarm—the denizens of the Forgotten Realms.
The invasion had begun.