Land of Iron, Tatara Smithy Guild.
In the center of the blood-stained arena, Kamihane stood unwavering. The air reeked of iron as shattered swords and severed limbs littered the ground. From dawn till dusk, countless warriors had challenged him, only to fall like wheat before a scythe.
Silence gripped the crowd. No one dared breathe too loudly.
This demonic youth had turned the tournament into a farce. Respected swordsmen crumbled like paper before his simplest movements. He didn't bother dodging—their sharpest strikes shattered against an invisible barrier. Each time, he'd sigh in disappointment before ending battles with a single, plain draw-cut.
The strong lost their blades. The weak lost limbs. The unworthy lost their lives.
"No one left?" Kamihane's cool voice sliced through the silence. His gaze swept the crowd, disappointment evident.
He'd hoped to find someone capable of piercing his water molecule barrier—someone whose edge could push his adaptation further. But even Iron Country's finest proved lacking.
"Lord Tayu, announce the results," he called toward the guildmaster's seat.
Coughing lightly, Tanba Tayu rose with his cane. "Since none dare challenge Kamihane further, I declare today's victor—"
"Hold!"
A shrill voice interrupted. All eyes snapped to the Land of Iron's Daimyo perched high above.
"Kekeke… What a prodigy our land has bred!" The Daimyo clapped theatrically. The crowd followed suit until his fan snapped open. "But why rush the verdict, Tayu-dono? Our champion deserves proper recognition!"
His painted smile widened. "Young Kamihane, would you humor this old man? My Four Heavenly Swordsmen—once considered Iron's strongest—have come out of retirement. Let them test your mettle!"
Before Tayu could protest, Kamihane grinned. "Bring them."
Four figures materialized behind the Daimyo—tall, short, fat, thin. In a blur, they surrounded Kamihane, white beards fluttering as cloaks fell away. Time had wrinkled their skin but not dulled their blade spirits.
"Kekeke… Fear not, Lady Yukino." The Daimyo sneered at the worried smith's daughter. "Even if they win, I'd never wed you to rotting antiques…"
"Beware, boy," the tallest elder warned. "Blades bite."
Kamihane rested a hand on Shimotsuki's hilt. "Teach me."
Four sword glares erupted. Kamihane stood motionless as slashes rebounded off his water barrier with metallic shrieks. Undeterred, the elders shifted positions like flowing ink, unleashing crisscrossing vacuum blades.
Clangclangclang!
The barrier flickered wildly under the assault. Finally—crack!—it shattered. Countless slashes tore Kamihane's robes to shreds… revealing unblemished skin glowing faintly blue.
"Impossible!" the elders gasped. Their vacuum blades couldn't scratch his jade-like flesh!
Kamihane threw back his head and laughed. "YES! MORE!"
Azure light erupted as his left eye morphed into a kaleidoscopic pattern. The temperature plummeted—spectators shuddered as if plunged into glacial depths.
"MAKORA!!!"
Crimson flames danced in Kamihane's pupils. Every slash became imprinted in his Sharingan's depths—chakra flow, form manipulation, compression…
CLICK.
Shimotsuki left its sheath. His free hand condensed an icy blade radiating ancient cold. Twin swords whirled.
"Twin Blades: Radiant Slash!"
An emerald ring exploded outward, dwarfing all previous attacks. Four clangs echoed as legendary swords snapped. The elders crashed from the arena, chests split to bone.
"These scars," Kamihane sheathed his blades, icy sword dissipating, "shall be your final glory."
Silence.
The Daimyo's fan clattered unnoticed. Every soul stared at the godlike youth, knowing they'd witnessed history.
Kamihane's declaration hung heavy: Iron Country's era of sword supremacy had ended.