CHAPTER-42焔刃狂宴 (Enjin Kyōen) – Blazing Blade Banquet Arc

"Bro, look! The gate's opening!" Daigo shouted, eyes gleaming with an excitement so raw it crackled in the air. The massive obsidian door ahead groaned open, its weight grinding against the scorched stone floor. The sound reverberated like thunder down the corridor, echoing off molten-red walls that pulsed with heat.

A violent gust of air exploded from the other side—hot, wild, alive.

Ishigo shot Daigo a sideways glance, grey eyes narrowing behind thin glasses. "Why are you always so excited?" he muttered, voice flat, cool, and detached like water against flame. "You're going to get yourself killed out there."

Daigo scoffed and folded his arms across his chest. "Shut up, Ishigo. Just wait. This level's gonna be different."

Leaning against the frost-kissed wall, Yeaga tilted his head and smirked. His brown-green eyes flicked toward the gate, tracking the swirling vortex of flame and shadow just beyond. "Level 4…" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "Hotter, wilder… maybe even deadlier than Level 3. Can't wait to see what I awaken here."

"Me too," Daigo chuckled, tension mixing with adrenaline in his voice. A wide grin spread across his face, untamed and brave.

They stepped forward, shadows stretching behind them as the light from the gate consumed everything ahead.

On the Other Side…

Reika paused at the threshold. Heat slammed into her like a living force, drowning out every thought. It wasn't just hot—it was alive, a primal blaze that devoured the senses. The bone-freezing cold of Level 3 had vanished entirely, replaced by suffocating intensity.

She blinked as her vision adjusted.

Towering volcanoes erupted in the distance, vomiting ash and fire into the stormy skies. Molten rivers slithered between jagged cliffs like living serpents. The air shimmered with red hues, each breath dragging fire into her lungs. Even the ground beneath her boots pulsed with a strange, rhythmic thrum, as though it too had a heartbeat.

"This is insane…" she whispered, her voice barely audible beneath the infernal chorus around her.

She tightened her grip on the hilt of her katana. Everything—the flicker of light, the scent of ash, the crackle of lava—screamed danger. Her instincts roared like an alarm.

Then, slicing through the thick heat like a blade, came laughter. Smooth, mocking, chilling.

"Nice. A Kageshiki," a voice echoed from the shadows with casual cruelty. "Another meal for us."

Reika's heart jolted. "Who's there?" she called out, steady despite the anxiety prickling her spine. Her green eyes scanned the haze.

From the crimson fog, they emerged—five Shikibans, each cloaked in long red robes that blended with the terrain. They lounged on a stone platform stained scarlet, as if dipped in blood. Their faces were disturbingly beautiful—angelic in form, yet utterly wrong. Their eyes held nothing but hunger.

"Why are all Shikibans so pretty?" she muttered under her breath, voice bitter, gaze narrowing. "I hate it."

One of them stepped forward, a tall figure with golden hair and eyes like cooling lava. His walk was deliberate, oozing authority and menace.

"You've stepped into the domain of the Flame Shikibans," he said, voice smooth as glass and sharp as knives. "We'll burn you to ash before you ever touch our core."

Reika raised her chin, katana drawn and angled low. "Then I'll fight you," she said, her voice sharp despite the tremble in her fingers.

The Shikiban raised an eyebrow—then froze.

Something shifted.

The air tightened. A new presence bloomed behind her like a shadow pulling itself free from the wall. Reika didn't need to look. She felt it—the chill of dark intent sliding down her spine.

She spun, blade ready—just as a katana streaked from the dark.

CLANG!

Steel shrieked against steel, the force of the blow flinging her backward. She landed hard, boots skidding against the searing ground.

Even the Shikibans watched in silence.

From the haze emerged a lone Kageshiki—his form sleek, wrapped in dark robes. His katana gleamed black, a living void of light. His hair was silver, messy, his smirk razor-sharp.

"Why?" Reika gasped, rising to her feet. "Why are you attacking me?!"

His voice was like poisoned silk. "To upgrade my rank," he said. "You're just a stepping stone, Reika. Nothing personal."

He charged.

In a blink, he closed the distance. His blade lashed out like lightning, a blur of death and precision. Reika blocked—barely. Sparks exploded as metal met metal. Every swing he made threatened to rip through her guard. His strikes were poetry—deadly, elegant, efficient.

"You're slow," he mocked mid-swing, feinting toward her chest.

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

Her body was on autopilot—dodge, parry, counter. Her arms ached, lungs burned, and her muscles screamed. But she endured.

Finally, an opening.

She feinted right, pivoted left, and slashed across his arm.

A thin line of blood appeared.

The Kageshiki froze, expression twisting for the first time.

"That's better," he muttered, eyes darkening. "But not good enough."

He roared forward. His blade danced like flame in stormwinds—unrelenting, beautiful, terrifying. Reika ducked, countered, then spun. Her katana met his once more, sparks flying into the molten air.

Their battle unfolded like a deadly waltz—one wrong step meant death. Around them, the volcanic world trembled. The lava hissed. Even the Shikibans watched, transfixed.

Reika's breath came in ragged bursts. Her vision blurred from sweat, smoke, and fury—but she didn't fall. She couldn't.

"Is that all you've got?" he sneered, thrusting toward her shoulder.

She caught it mid-swing, locked blades, eyes burning into his.

"I'm not your stepping stone," she hissed.

With a grunt, she pushed forward, breaking the lock. Their swords clashed again—brutal, beautiful chaos. Her feet scraped across the stone, dodging another sweep. A flash of memory—Kaede's training, Souta's warning—anchored her.

She launched a final counter.

Their blades collided, and a shockwave burst outward, shattering nearby rocks. The force sent both flying back, panting, bloodied, but alive.

The Kageshiki chuckled, licking blood from his lip. "You're not bad."

Reika, chest heaving, raised her katana once more. "Neither are you."

Behind them, the volcano rumbled again—louder this time. The true challenge of Level 4 had only just begun.

And neither of them would walk away unchanged.