Part Four

Genkei sipped the last of his sake, savoring its bitter warmth, before placing a few silver coins on the counter. The bar was dimly lit, with lanterns swaying gently in the draft from the thin shoji doors. Outside, the scent of rain lingered, mingling with the earthy aroma of wet soil and the faint iron tang of blood—a reminder of the world's cruelty.

The quiet was short-lived. Three mercenaries stumbled into the room, their drunken laughter grating against the low hum of conversation. Their leader, Wu, a burly man with a jagged scar running down his cheek, barked at the bar owner for sake, slamming his fist on a table hard enough to rattle the empty jars.

Genkei froze, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword beneath his weathered cloak.

His face had been plastered on wanted posters for years—

"The Shadow of Five Clans - The Demon Swords man - Swords of the lost village " they called him. Slave traders, mercenaries, and bounty hunters had all sought him.

He had evaded capture, blending into the chaos of a world torn by war. Yet, his legend haunted him. The clans had once thrived in unity under the "Tournament of Right" and the "Treaty of the Five." But Genkei's own sins—his failure, his betrayal—had shattered that fragile peace.

The war changed everything. Villages burned, families sold their own kin to survive, and swordsmen like him were either heroes or villains, depending on whose side they stood.

"Hey, old man, pour the sake faster, or I'll wreck this dump!" Wu shouted, slamming his fist again. Villagers nearby scattered like leaves in the wind, sensing trouble. Genkei quietly made for the door.

Just as he reached it, he was shoved aside by a wiry man whose hands betrayed his trade—he was a swordsman. The stranger's tattered robe reeked of sweat and despair. His voice cracked as he bellowed, "Wu! Where is my daughter? Tell me, or prepare to die!"

Genkei paused, his senses sharpened. The man's stance was weak, his grip on the sword unsteady. This was no seasoned warrior. He was a desperate father.

Wu sneered, signaling his men to rise. A trio of weapons glinted in the flickering lantern light—a katana, a battle axe, and a spiked chain.

"Your daughter? Ah, yes, she's worth more silver than you could ever pay. You owe the boss fifteen pieces for your failure in the pit. Instead of winning, you lost—pathetic," Wu spat, taking a swig of sake.

"Please, I didn't know my opponent would use demon path, you lied to me, I would be fighting a non-path dealer! The boss lied to me—" The man's plea was cut short as the spiked chain shot forward, piercing his shoulder and pinning him to a wooden pillar. He screamed, his sword clattering to the floor.

"Lies? Calling us a liar? Maybe you should have died like we thought you would in the pit, your daughter will fetch enough silver to make up for it," Wu jeered. His laughter echoed, dark and cruel.

"That's enough," Genkei's voice cut through the room like a blade.

In his head, he heard the evil cackle awake.

#You can never stay away, old habits, swordsman - old habits, how heroic, how stupid!#

... Elsewhere in Ode Village ...

The crackling hearth bathed the room in a warm glow as Hasashi Otobi Wan ran a calloused hand over his purple robes, adorned with threads of dragon hair. "Real dragon hair," he mused aloud, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. "Three times the strength of steel, twice the weight of woll. A relic of a bygone era."

Hasashi was no ordinary blacksmith. He had once been a grand swordsman, the "Royal Forger" to the emperor himself. His creations were legendary—blades that could cleave mountains, spears that sang through the air like thunder. But those days were gone, buried beneath the bloodshed and betrayal that defined his life.

Hasashi's gaze narrowed. "You seek dragon steel? Dragons are extinct and so is dragon steel becoming but what many do not know is that what powers a dragon steel is ancient dragon magic, this magic has always been around us, in various forms or materials and by combining the right ones, we can essentially reproduce a copy of dragon steel…" He paused, tossing a scroll to Asakai.

"Before the next full moon, gather these ingredients. The moon's power will awaken the magic within them. But know this: forging dragon steel demands not only skill but resolve."

Asakai's hands trembled as he read the scroll. "Thank you. I won't waste this chance."

Hasashi's expression darkened. "It was him, wasn't it? The swordsman who killed the demon king. The same Genkei who shattered the clans' unity."

"Yes," Asakai admitted. "You know him?"

Hasashi nodded slowly. "He was my first student. My greatest mistake and disappointment."

... Back at the bar..

Genkei stepped forward, his movements fluid, like a leaf carried by the wind. Wu's men turned their weapons toward him, but he remained calm.

Genkei said softly. "Give the man his daughter, I will pay what he owes."

Wu laughed. "Really? You would pay for this weakling, well why don't you make it my worth, I will give him his daughter for a 100 pieces,"

Genkei's cloak shifted, revealing the hilt of his sword. The room fell silent. Even Wu's drunken bravado faltered.

"I don't have a 100 pieces," Genkei said, his voice cold he could see there lust for blood growing.

"But I've seen enough blood spilled. Let's not add yours to the count."

The mercenaries hesitated, their confidence shaken. Wu growled, "Kill him!"

Genkei's blade was a flash of light, swift and unrelenting. The spiked chain shattered, the axe wielder fell with a single strike, and the katana user barely had time to react before his weapon was disarmed. Wu stumbled back, his bravado replaced with fear.

"Go," Genkei ordered, his blade leveled at Wu's throat. "And never return."

Wu fled, leaving behind his unconscious men. The bar was silent save for the soft drip of blood onto the wooden floor.

Genkei sheathed his sword, turning to the wounded father, gave him a little sac of the money he had left.

"Take this, it's all I have, Find your daughter. Protect her. This world takes everything if you let it."

As he stepped outside , the rain began to fall again, washing away the blood and the sins of the day. But Genkei knew his own sin could never be cleansed. It had a voice and followed him everywhere.