Yaarou Compound; Fifth Coronation [End]

[Hitomi Yaarou]

The Yaarou Compound stood like a citadel, perched atop the jagged hills of Edo, where the wind howled with an unnatural ferocity. The buildings, impossibly grand, seemed to defy the unyielding landscape that surrounded them. Towering stone spires reached up from the craggy surface, their faces carved with ancient sigils—protection runes that keep guard of the Yaarou’s unbroken legacy. Ornate bridges arched over chasms of deep shadows, linking sections of the sprawling compound. Within these walls, the Yaarou lived in opulence, a stark contrast to the unforgiving world of combat and ruin surrounding them.

The clamor of a bell echoed from the dwarfing castles, marking the break of dawn. Within the main palace of the compound, the air was sweetened by the scents of incense and polished wood, as servants in finely tailored robes moved through the hallways, performing their duties without so much as a word from the masks that concealed their identities. They were known as “faceless”–and even their muted steps were a distant whisper, swallowed by the bustle echoing from the center of the palace. There, within the inner sanctum, the elders gathered, adorned in layers of protective enchantments and the soft hum of their collective meditation.

But it wasn’t the servants, nor the ritualistic start of the day that caught the attention of one particular elder.

His name was Jhun-shi and he was clad in richly embroidered robes of cobalt and gold that glided across the polished wood as he strode through the corridors of the Yaarou compound. His gray hair cascaded in long strands from his weathered head, and the glint of age-worn experience in his amber eyes spoke of countless years spent guiding the clan. And today, those eyes were pinched tight with worry.

His woodend sandals clacked against the floors as he hurried past grand statues of past clan leaders, their chiseled faces watching silently.

But his footsteps faltered as he passed the dojo where a few of the Yaarou acolytes were all poised and ready to begin their training. Their sharp eyes followed him as he made his way toward the private wing—the quarters of the tribe's heir.

The Palace itself was a fortress of stone, wood, and magic, built upon centuries, and centuries of dominance. The world outside—brutal, merciless, and ever at war—was a distant concept here. Yet, even in this place of luxury, there were rules. Responsibilities that even the Elders needed to adhere to. And at this moment, Jhun-shi’s duty was to ensure that the future head of the Yaarou clan did not squander her potential.

“...”

As he rushed through the compound, his mind wandered to the specifics of Hitomi’s upbringing. From birth, she'd been sheltered within these grand walls while the rest of the Edo churned in peril. She was still a child in his eyes, but despite her inexperience, the young woman was set to inherit the mantle of leadership—the “Ring of Hatred”, —an artifact tied to the very essence of the Yaarou Clan's lineage. All of this on account of her unprecedented potential.

And yet, it was her apathy, her callous disregard for the responsibilities that came with such power, that concerned the elders most. And Jhun-Shi was no exception. He heaved a heavy sigh as he approached the door to her quarters, an imposing structure of ornate wood and steel—its surface inlaid with intricate, protective runes.

With a firm hand, he pressed against it.

"Forgive the intrusion, my Paragon..” Jhun called, his voice strong despite the unease stirring in his chest. "but it is time."

There was a long pause, an eerie silence hanging in the air before the door creaked open slightly—just enough for him to peer inside.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the faint glow of the rising sun streaming through a vast window that framed the eastern sky. The chamber itself was an expansive space filled with rich tapestries, delicate crystal statues, and meticulously arranged furniture. Ornate cushions lined the floor, and shelves upon shelves of rare tomes and scrolls filled the room, betraying Hitomi’s vast knowledge of the Ephemeral Arts.

The heir was sprawled across a thick rug near the window, her posture languid and defiant, as though the weight of the world had no place in her presence. Her deep red eyes, gleaming like polished jewels, were fixed on the horizon. Her snow white hair framed her sharp features as it pooled against the floor.

She was nearly nude, wrapped in the remnants of a silken sheet– a casual disregard for her surroundings as her gaze trailed the sun’s ascent. The elegance of her form was undeniable, but it was the air of disinterest that hung around her that Jhun found most unsettling.

He had witnessed this many times before—the quiet rebellion of the heir. She had always been strong, but there was a growing sense that she thought herself above the clan, above everything.

"Lady Yaarou.." Jhun repeated, this time his voice firm, as he stepped into the room while averting his gaze. "It is time to begin your day, and I'm afraid there is much to be done.” He said, peeking over his shoulder for a moment, but only to be sure that the heir was actually awake this time. "And as you know, this day begins with training– honing your Hexcraft is paramount, my Paragon. I cannot stress the importance of this enough!” He said pointedly, folding his arms. “Yet, and still you are late to your training. Again."

Her eyes barely shifted from the sun’s light. "Training?" she murmured, her voice heavy with disinterest. "I’ve trained enough."

"As Xhi'on, you have responsibilities." Jhun-shi pressed, his voice rising slightly. "Your coronation is tomorrow and The Ring of Hatred is waiting–”

Hitomi exhaled sharply, her gaze finally shifting from the horizon to the elder. A smug smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. "I’ve been occupied with far more important matters.” she said, the implication clear. "I’ve already surpassed the need for such trivial exercises. My power speaks for itself."

Jhun clenched his jaw but did not argue. The young heir had a reputation for being quick to anger. Instead, he took a different approach. "Is that so?" he said softly, still not looking upon her barely clothed form. "Tomorrow, you will be tasked with an exhibition, proving your mastery over both Hexcraft and the Ephemeral Arts in front of the entire clan before you can claim the Ring. However, it is my understanding that you have yet to truly attain mastery over your Supreme Art." He said, allowing a hint of vindication embolden his tone. "You know this is required, my Paragon. There is not a seat on the Council that would exempt such an invaluable asset from the coronation.”

A long, tense silence followed.

Finally, Hitomi sighed, pushing herself up from the floor with an exaggerated motion. "..ugh." she muttered, allowing the silken sheet to slide from her body as she rose. Her posture regal and commanding, despite her casual tone. "I’ll be there. You are dismissed." She replied, folding her arms. "And know this, "Elder"—no one has been as prepared as I am. I am the strongest. And that Ring belongs to me."

With those words, Hitomi turned toward her lavish mirror, ready to prepare for the day. Jhun, though relieved, couldn’t help but feel the weight of what was to come as he bowed his head and closed the door behind him. Her arrogance was undeniable, but so was her power. He could only hope that, when the time came, the weight of her destiny would finally meet her resolve.

[Hitomi Yaarou]

As the door closed quietly behind him, Jhun-shi let out a measured sigh, the weight of his thoughts sinking heavily into his shoulders. Hitomi’s confidence was palpable, and yet, like a blade forged too quickly, he feared it was brittle—a hardened exterior hiding a core untested by true temperance. The fate of the Yaarou Clan rested on her shoulders, but whether her resolve could bear that weight was a question that gnawed at him.

Jhun’s footsteps echoed in the quiet corridor as he made his way toward the training grounds, a solemn path lined with tapestries depicting the Yaarou Clan's ancient battles and victories; that of the StormBringer, and Veiled Whisper– each of them reminders of a legacy Hitomi was soon to inherit. Despite the grandeur of their lineage, an underlying sense of unease lingered in Jhun's mind. To him, Hitomi's unearned pride was an ember in dry grass—a spark that could easily ignite the wrong flames.

Reaching the training grounds, he found the acolytes hard at work. The dojo pulsed with the sounds of controlled violence: the clash of weaponary, the murmured hexes woven into the air like dark silk, and the quiet grunts of those dedicated to mastering their craft. A few of them paused as he passed, bowing deeply with eyes widened with both reverence and fear. They knew Jhun's reputation well—an Elder whose gaze could pierce through arrogance like an arrow. His standards for the clan’s leaders were unyielding, and everyone under his scrutiny knew it.

In the courtyard, he spotted Ayune, her figure cloaked in the traditional robes of their order, the layered silk faintly enchanted to shimmer with an ethereal light.

Her expression softened slightly as she saw him, though her eyes mirrored his own concerns."Will our Paragon be gracing us today?" she asked, her tone light but laced with the shadow of uncertainty. The title “Paragon” was given only to those chosen to lead the clan, and Ayune, like Jhun, was cautious about bestowing it upon someone so young, so unproven.

Jhun inclined his head in confirmation, though a sigh escaped him. "Despite her inexperience, she believes herself ready." he replied, his gaze distant. "I fear it may be too late to teach her that confidence is not the same as wisdom.."

Ayune nodded, her gaze turning contemplative as she watched the acolytes training. "It is true.. Confidence without temperance is huubris, and it has led even the mightiest of our kin to ruin." she murmured, her words barely a whisper. "Though, be that as it may, there has never been anyone as mighty as she. If she learns to master potential, there may be no equal. And I fear she is aware of this..”

“Hmph.”

Jhun grunted. “She has yet to feel the scold of live combat.”

His gaze hardened soon after. "And The Ring will test her as no sparring match or incantation has done before. Unlike anything else in her life, it must be earned, not claimed. Arrogance and strength alone does not make a leader— such a responsibility is forged in a crucible of discipline and tempered by the flames of restraint, empathy, and sacrifice. Traits I fear she has yet to fully grasp—”

Just then, as if summoned by their conversation, the large wooden gates at the far end of the courtyard creaked open, drawing every eye toward the entrance. Hitomi stood framed by the morning light, her figure striking against the dawn’s golden glow. She had donned a ceremonial dark robe, not all tailored for combat, decorated from to toe in priceless ornaments that refracted the morning's rays.

Hitomi advanced with slow, deliberate steps, her every movement a challenge that radiated a practiced indifference. Her white hair was bound in a bun behind her golden head piece, and her piercing red eyes swept over the courtyard with an air of casual superiority.

The acolytes stilled as she passed, and a hush descended over the courtyard, a shared breath of both admiration and silent apprehension.

Jhun allowed her to reach the courtyards before he stepped forward, his gaze steady as he addressed her. "Ahem‐‐ Lady Yaarou.." he began, his voice measured yet carrying an undeniable edge. "Though we all admire your beauty, and the craftsmenship of the Palace's Grand Tailor.. I think it would be more appropriate if you to changed into–”

“Thank you, Elder. I think it looks nice, too. ” She retorted sharply, “After our conversation, I wanted to wear something that conveys just how much I care about waking up so early for something that doesn't matter.”

She said, stopping just in front of Elder Jhun-shi, who once again closed his eyes to take a breath and measure his tone before he responded. Hitomi's rebellious smirk sought to elicit a response from him, but he would not succumb to her childish nature. It was then that Ayune’ chose to interject.

“It is pleasure to see you again, my Paragon.” She said, softening the brewing tension with a humble bow and smile. Hitomi however, seemed less interested in their reunion.

“Yes.. and why are you here, exactly?” She replied, slowly pulling her gaze from Jhun-Shi. Ayune’, briefly taken aback, cleared her throat before speaking. But Jhun interjected.

“We are all here to assure that you reach the pinnacle of your potential, Lady Yaarou.” He said, his amber gaze flaring open to challenge Hitomi's conceit. “As you are aware, the trials tomorrow will not test your strength alone, but the culmination of your knowledge as well. Today's training will be a reflection of that. Elder Ayune’ is a master of restorative ephemeral arts; yet another school of study that requires your attention. She is visiting from Muu to assist us." Ayune', again bowed her head in reverence. Humbled to be summoned to at behest of the Clan Head. Hitomi simply rolled her eyes as Jhun continued.

"Following your session with her, we shall proceed with the physical aspect of your training– where you will be facing the Vol Sentinels, along with some of our most exceptional acolytes.”

A ripple of tension passed through the acolytes, an unspoken acknowledgment of the challenge ahead of them. Jhun then gestured to the line of constructs stationed at the courtyard’s edge. Towering, steel-forged effigies, each inscribed with ancient runes and layered in protective wards, the Vol Sentinels were as deadly as they were unyielding. Designed to replicate the most intricate combat techniques and repel even the most sophisticated spells. Just a single Vol would act as an acolytes final trail—a challenge many feared, and most had failed.

However, Hitomi's was visibly nonplussed at the introduction of her opponents. “Acolytes?” She reiterated as her eyes sharpened into daggers that pierced Jhun-shi's skull, but her glare was soon softened by an amused giggle and smirk that crossed her lips. “And sparring drones? This is how you wish to gauge the strength of your heir? By insulting her?”

“Be warned, My Paragon.” Ayune' warned, her gaze growing intense . “These Sentinels will not fall to raw force alone. They, along with our acolytes will be armed with weapons infused by my Hexcraft. Your task will be to disable them without destroying them, as testimony to your restraint."

[Hitomi Yaarou]

"Restraint?"

Hitomi’s smirk twisted into something sharper as Ayune’ finished her explanation. She allowed her arms to rest at her sides and gave a withering look at the line of acolytes who stood, trembling, by the Vol Sentinels. “As I feared, this is a mornonic waste of my time.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Jhun-shi's face. "Lady Yaarou, I implore you to take this seriously. Again, this is not a mere analysis of your might, but your ability to handle precision under pressure. Qualities you will need to command—"

Hitomi raised a hand, silencing him mid-sentence. "You can spare me the lecture, Elder. I've already thought of a far better idea." She said with a smile, playfully tapping her chin before suddenly snapping her fingers. "How about I summon the Al'korei?! And I fight all four of them at once?”

The courtyard fell silent until the shocked murmurs of the acolytes brewed a small clamor. Jhun-shi's face turned rigid, and Ayune' looked at Hitomi, concern etched deep into her expression. "My Paragon.. that is highly unwise." His words were nearly a whisper. "The Al’Korei are warriors entrusted with defending the head of the clan at any cost. To this day their skills remain peerless, and are not meant to temper their blades for a simple test."

"Oh, I agree." Hitomi’s gaze gleamed with an unsettling thrill, and a smile curled at her lips. "That's precisely why it must be them. I won’t tolerate a test that undermines my strength. Do you doubt me, Elder?”

A tense silence followed. Jhun-shi stepped forward, his tone sharper, edged with an urgency he rarely displayed. "This is not a matter of doubt. The Al-Korei are lethal. Dangerous beyond measure. To engage all four would mean certain death for anyone—even the Paragon. The purpose of this trial is to refine your skills, not put lives at risk."

Hitomi scoffed. "And yet, you were prepared to barter the lives of these acolytes in some half-assed attempt to, what? Bore me into submission? Spare me.”

Jhun-shi’s jaw clenched, but before he could respond, Ayune interjected, her voice soft yet firm. "Lady Yaarou, the Al-Korei are not tools for your entertainment—they are the clan’s last line of defense. Their loyalty is not something to be tested lightly."

"Another fine point." Hitomi retorted. "Which is why I must gauge them myself. How can I trust them with my life when I’ve yet to properly meet these warriors?" She turned to the courtyard, raising her voice so the acolytes and the Elders could hear her clearly. "After my coronation, I will decide who serves at my side. Today, I will see if they are worthy."

Jhun-shi’s expression darkened, but before he could voice another protest, Hitomi raised a commanding hand. "The acolytes will clear out of the courtyard." Her tone left no room for argument, each word clipped with authority. "I want the Al-Korei summoned at once. I will not repeat myself."

The message was relayed, and if beckoned by god, the four warriors materialized from the thin air, just over Hitomi's shoulder. Each of them already bowed at the knee, pulsating with a calm, unshakeable poise. They were distinct in their bearing yet united by an air of quiet, lethal precision.

“Hmph.” She scoffed, unamused by their meager parlor tricks. It was said that even if they weren't in sight, the Al-Korei were never far from their Paragon's side.

Hitomi’s eyes assessed each of them, her gaze appraising and cold. Like a surgeon's edge. The largest of them was a man with silver hair and a scar running from his eyebrow, down to his jaw. He was a dwarfing 7” obelisk of muscle and scars, headed by a pair of daunting red eyes. He wore no armor, and a loose pair of cobalt slacks. His name was Rao, and he was the oldest serving member of the Al-Korei.

At his side, a seasoned woman with red hair and a pair of red eyes that blistered brighter than her towering contemporaries. Her name was Wryn, and she donned a jade green hakma with a pair of katanas fastened to her back, and a lit cigarette hanging from her lip.

The youngest of the group had knelt near the front of his team; a man with curly black hair and haunting glowing eyes, adorning a suit of armor Hitomi had never seen before. On his back was a weapon larger than he, wrapped and concealed beneath a layer of powerful talismans. His name was Ki’air, and despite being born Hexless, his expertise in the Ephemeral Arts and Hexed Weaponry separated him from his peers at an early age, and escalated him to an elite shinobi beyond his years.

The last of them, knelt and positioned behind his fellow warriors, was a man behind a mask– one that, despite whatever perilous journey he may have faced, distinguished him as one thing, and one thing only in Hitomi's eyes.

“A Sunless?” She harked, her amused expression all but gone. “A Hexless?” This was unacceptable. If this was whom her Elder's perceived to be the most fit to stand at her side, then she was better off standing alone.

"Ugh, doesn't matter. " she said, calmly moving her bangs from her eyes. "Listen up then. No need to pretend like you didn't hear what I said. I'd like all of you to attack me at once. Right now.”

The Al-Korei exchanged silent, wary glances before they each fixated on Hitomi.

“Well? You have your orders. Attack me as if your lives depend on it– or else, I'll simply kill you where you stand. "

[Hitomi Yaarou]

The Al-Korei shifted into position, their movements measured, deliberate, each warrior silently appraising Hitomi with the gravity the moment demanded. The courtyard had emptied; even the acolytes, usually defiant in their curiosity, had retreated to the edges of sands, captivated and apprehensive. Elder Jhun-shi and Ayune' remained at a distance, tension and concern etched across their faces as they exchanged a look of resignation.

Hitomi stood unperturbed, her posture loose, almost relaxed, as she rolled her shoulders and tilted her head, studying her opponents with a glint of eager anticipation. “If you hesitate, you’ll only make this harder on yourselves.” she taunted, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “C'mon, then. I'm already starting to sweat through this dress.”

The Al-Korei needed no further prompting. They were seasoned warriors, each honed by countless battles, and none intended to disrespect their Lady by holding back. In a synchronized blur, they launched forward, moving as a unit. The first to reach her was Dao, the largest of the party, best known for his earth-shattering might. He wielded a colossal Kabano, its spiked edges gleaming ominously as he swung it at her with lethal precision.

But Hitomi stepped to the side, allowing the Kabano to crash into the sand filled courtyard with a resounding boom, generating a gale of force and scattered sand. But before Dao could recover, Hitomi had already sprung into action, delivering a swift palm strike to his midsection with a bewildering amount of force. The visceral sound of snapping bone sent the behemoth skidding along his back to the edges of the courtyard. Hitomi's feet barely touched the ground as she twirled in her dress, seamlessly shifting her focus to the next opponent, rapidly advancing from her left.

Wryn, the swiftest among them, flickered in and out of view using her mastery of the Joūto technique to disguise approach. Her visage was ghostlike– shifting, but not moving. In her hands, a pair of katana each coated with a potent mixture of poisons that would immobilize the brain in seconds. All she needed was a prick to do the trick.

Wryn lunged at her target with blinding speed, prepared to deliver a flurry of omni angled slashes to keep Hitomi off balance and on the defensive. But the young heir moved with equal footing alongside her assailant, weaving Wryn's laced steel in an exhibit of finesse so graceful, not a thread on her dress unraveled. During their “dance” Hitomi's fingers found the hilt of one of Wrynn blades, and twisted it out of her hand in a sudden, brutal maneuver that broke the woman's wrist. Hitomi then flashed a grin, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, daring the woman to press on without her tool.. or her left hand. But she did not.

Instead, Wryn swallowed the cigarette dangling from her lips and released an enormous plume of smoke from her mouth before she retreated into the air, obscuring sight and allowing the third warrior silently approaching from Hitomi's blindside his window of opportunity. Ki'air was the youngest of the Al-Korei, but his Hexed Artifact perhaps made him the deadliest of his peers.

His Hexed Weapon was a deadly scythe capable of literally stripping the soul from its vessel, and whistled through the air as he expertly swung it through the smoke toward the back of Hitomi's neck. But she twirled around and parried his strike using the blade she stole from Wryn and retaliated with a devastating kick to his chest that sent him sprawling backward into the surrounding smoke screen. “Ugh.. none of you are good enough.” She lamented as her eyes were drawn toward the only remaining unit of the Al-Korei still standing amidst the smoke screen.

“Especially not you..”

The Sunless, weaving together a set of hand signs native to an otherwise forgotten culture. Nestu was among the Denkou-shi's Clan's founding techniques; one that enabled them to manipulate thermal energy and weaponize it in a variety of creative ways. In this circumstance, Torr'n was seizing control of the heat circulating within Wryn’s smoke screen– and once his Ava was complete, the blackened smog began to sparkle before igniting in a powerful explosion.

The flames of Torr'n's attack stretched to the outer reaches of the Courtyard and could have harmed the onlooking acolytes if not for Elder Jhun's vigilance. In the blink of an eye, he performed an Ava of his own that generated a mystical partition between the combatants and their audience.

”Tch- this is madness.” He murmured to himself, but not even he could peel his eyes from this bout.

Torr'n remained at the center of it all, allowing the blistering waves to pass harmlessly over him as he waited to ascertain the impact of his attack. But as the smoke cleared, Torr'n found no evidence of a kill, let alone any confirmation of a successful attack. Despite not having eyes, Sunless were capable of developing their other senses to superhuman faculties. Some of them were developed into elite trackers– hunting dogs for Yaarou Shinobi due to the uncanny precision of their sensory skills. And Torr'n was no different. His masked face surveyed all two hundred yards of sand, yet to no avail. Even to someone as skillful as him, Hitomi seemed to have simply vanished into thin air, until Torr'n felt the cold steel of a katana laced in poison rip into his spine.

The speed of the strike carved his lower back into a fountain of scarlet rain that showered the battlefield until Torr’n’s body tumbled at the sandaled feet of his Paragon. Her white hair now spattered red with Sunless blood. “Disgusting.” She muttered to herself, driving the blade into his corpse and drying her face on the sleeves of her robes.

Hitomi was now surrounded on all sides by what remained of the Al-Korei, their faces mirroring each other's rage. They had refocused, regrouped. Despite their respective injuries, their stances were more focused, more intent, as they realized their heir was far from outmatched.. and that this was far from a casual spar. Hitomi's words throughout made her motives apparent, but it wasn't until the death of their ally did it truly dawn on them. This was a culling.

[Hitomi Yaarou]

Elder Jhun-shi’s voice broke the thick silence, frantic with disbelief and anger. “Hitomi?! How could– Have you lost your mind?” His voice trembled, and a vein throbbed at his temple, disbelief marring his usually calm expression. “You dishonor the very name of our clan!”

Elder Ayune', her voice softer but no less shaken, added, “This ruthlessness is not strength, Hitomi. It is cruelty. Perfidous. You disgrace the traditions you were born to uphold. Torr'n was Sunless, yes, but he was loyal! Devout!” She glanced briefly at the remaining Al-Korei, noting the silent fury burning in their eyes. “How could you turn against your own?”

Hitomi tilted her head, her gaze cold and unfeeling. She showed no remorse, her expression sharp with disdain. “One of my own?” She scoffed, her words laced with venom. “The Sunless are nothing more than tools. To equate them to family dishonors us all.”

The remaining Al-Korei stiffened at her words. Dao, hindered from his broken ribs, clenched his fists with eyes boiling red with rage. Wryn and Ki'air exchanged a look, their bodies tense, their stances unyielding. For them, Torr'n’s death was more than a shock—it was an affront, a challenge. And with Hitomi’s callous tongue, that challenge had devolved into something dark and personal.

“You speak of tools as if you’ve forgotten, Lady Hitomi,” Wryn said, her voice low and icy as she wrapped up her wrist, “..that every warrior here has bled and fought to ensure your safety. ‘Tools’ sharpened to ensure that your nights turned into days.” She said, ripping the wrapping thread with her teeth before spitting out blood toward Hitomi’s feet. “Torr'n swore an oath to protect you with his life, and you dare to throw it away over your own arrogance?”

Hitomi raised an eyebrow, dismissing her with a smirk. “If you resent your place beneath me, then prove your worth. Show me I was wrong, and make me pay for it. But know this—each of you will die here on these sands if you can’t bridge the gap between us.” She spread her arms in invitation, a cruel glint in her eye. “You'll need to draw on everything you have, from the deepest depths of your Hexcraft. Use your Supreme Arts if you dare. Show me the pinnacle of what an elite Yaarou Shinobi can do.”

Elder Jhun-shi’s face turned pale as her challenge sank in. “Hitomi, stop this madness! The Supreme Arts were not crafted for petty displays of dominance. They are dangerous—deadly even to those who wield them.”

“Madness?” Hitomi’s tone was cool, as though she was explaining a trivial matter. “No Elder, this is called proving a point. Wasn’t it you who said I needed to unlock my Supreme Art to prove myself as a proper Xhi'on for the tribe? Well, whether I unlock it or not, I will always be the strongest. And I plan to add weight to my words.”

Dao took a step forward, blood staining his lips as he steadied himself, his hand gripping his Kabano. “.. impudent.. child.” His voice was raw with rage and pain. “To hell with my oath, I’m going to make sure you regret every lump of shit that slipped from your mouth.”

Wryn and Ki'air mirrored his fury, their faces hardened, postures aggressive, charged with a focus born of anger and resolve. Hitomi smirked in response, that cold glimmer in her eye brightening as she lifted her finger toward the Dao. “I'll be killing you first,”.

Ki’air’s voice cut through her taunt as he slammed the end of his scythe into the sand, his emotions spilling from his lips like hot foam. “Enough! If she wants to see what it takes to be strong, I say we show her! No more holding back!” He wrapped his arm in the long chain attached to his scythe, fingers curling into an Ava that invoked a faint hum of power that rippled down the weapon, making the air around it thrum. A knowing glance passed between Rao, Wryn and Ki'air.

“I'll end this..” Is what the look on Ki'air's face conveyed. A look that immediately strengthened the nerve of Dao and Wryn, as they knew full well what the only Hexless member of the Al-Korei was capable of. He just needed some time– a small request that they were more than willing to oblige.

With a subtle nod, their clandestine plan was initiated, and as always, Dao would be the initial distraction. Hitomi noticed the sudden shift in their countenance; like cornered wild animals, they exuded a sense of desperation. They were afraid, and there was nothing more exhilarating than the terror of death. “That's good.. I can see it setting in.” She said playfully as her eyes danced between the three of them, opening her arms again– mocking and cold. “Maybe this could be fun after all.”

Dao took a breath, his teeth bared, the pain in his chest ignored as his grip tightened around his weapon. He shifted his weight and his posture while Wryn circled to Hitomi's side. Her stance was low and cautious, her good hand twitching toward the hidden daggers at her belt while the other held her katana underhanded.

But Ki’air was their focal point—the quiet threat, the one they had always turned to when things grew desperate. The faint, eerie glow around his scythe pulsed in time with his heartbeat, growing brighter as he drew in breath and recited his chant. They just needed moments, precious moments, to let him prepare the deadliest strike in their arsenal. And Hitomi seemed more than willing to let them prepare.

[Hitomi Yaarou]

Dao charged forward, each footstep pounding into the earth, his Kabano radiating a sickly green aura. With a grunt, he swung it in a rising arc toward Hitomi, his Hexcraft amplifying his already immense strength and even the size of his weapon. Hitomi sidestepped gracefully, the edge of the Kabano barely grazing past her, close enough that she could feel the gust it created.

He adjusted immediately, shifting his stance and bringing his weapon down in a crushing vertical strike. But Hitomi leaned backward into a series of flips that carried her out of reach. Her feet barely touched the ground as she moved.

Dao snarled, his grip tightening around his weapon as he tracked her movements. Watching her flamboyant flips, he noticed her position close to the edge of the courtyard—and a plan began to form. With a surge of energy, Dao lunged after her, aiming to cleave her in half with a horizontal swing that carried double the force, intending to corner her with her back against the wall of Jhun Shi's barrier. But Hitomi’s eyes gleamed with amusement, as if he were the one being lured to his end.

In a flash, she flipped up and over Dao’s incoming attack, reversing their positions and delivering a sharp elbow to his battered ribs as she landed. The force sent him reeling into the walls of the Elder's barrier, a grunt escaping him, though he was only slowed momentarily.

As Dao refocused, Wryn moved in from Hitomi’s blindside. Her movements precise and controlled, her blade flashing in rapid strokes that forced Hitomi to be on the defensive. Wryn’s attacks were a stark contrast to Dao’s: swift, elegant, and lethal. Still, Hitomi strafed her attacks with minimal movement, swaying her body and tilting her head just enough to avoid each cut.

“Oh?” Her eyes flickered as she noticed the synchrony between the two of them. Dao would launch a massive swing, forcing her to dodge into Wryn’s path, and Wryn would already be waiting, her blade lashing out with lethal accuracy. Hitomi smirked as she leapt away and adjusted her stance, her focus now locked onto both of them.

Wryn lunged forward in hot pursuit; her sword a silver blur swiping at Hitomi's abdomen. But Hitomi fell into a split to duck under the poisoned blade, and spun on her hands to catch Wryn’s knee in a crippling leg sweep. Wryn was swept off her feet but managed to ukemi into a somersault before she crashed into the sands. Dao capitalized on the moment, leaping up and bringing his Kabano down in a vertical smash aimed at Hitomi’s shoulder before she righted herself.

Hitomi’s eyes sharpened. She flipped to the side, letting the Kabano crash into the ground beside her, the impact loosening strands of her hair. As Dao struggled to recover from the swing, she stepped onto the flat side of his weapon and used it as a platform to propel herself upward. Twisting mid-air, she channeled her momentum into a vicious downward kick to the back of his head, driving him to his knees.

A shout echoed from Wryn as she surged forward, her blade arcing toward Hitomi’s exposed back. But the ruthless child spun around at the last moment to catch Wryn’s blade between her thumb and index finger.

“Is this all?” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt as held Wryn’s gaze.

With a snarl, Wryn pulled back and unleashed a rapid series of strikes aimed at Hitomi’s most vulnerable spots. But Hitomi’s reflexes left the skilled assassin lashing at air, her movements barely more than slight tilts and pivots that kicked up hardly any sand.

Meanwhile, Ki'air stood back, his lips moving in a silent chant as he prepared his Supreme Art. Tension thickened in the air, a foreboding energy building like a storm about to break.

“Are you nearly done over there?” Hitomi called out to Ki'air while she made effortless work of his allies. But just then, Dao pushed himself from the sands, blood trailing from his mouth, his face twisted with grim determination. Ignoring the pain, he roared and charged again, swinging his Kabano across his body with all his remaining strength.

But she ducked under the massive slab of metal just in time and delivered a rising back kick into his ribs, her strike precise and ruthless. Dao slid backward on his heels, coughing up blood and collapsing to his knees.

Wryn’s eyes widened as she watched Dao falter, a flicker of doubt freezing her in place. Hitomi’s turned as if she smelled her fear, her eyes alight with manic excitement.

Using Jōtou, she appeared to teleport in front of Wryn and disarmed her with a ruthless grip on her sword hand. Wryn reeled in agony as her blade clattered to the ground. “You’ve run out of time.” Hitomi said, batting her eyes at Ki’air as she forced Wryn to her knees.

It was then that Ki'air’s voice boomed across the courtyard, his chant reaching its crescendo.

“Vorpal Ruin.. Twisting Metals.. Inverted Spear of Thought.. Supreme Art, Spectral Abattoir. ”

With chilling finality, a barrier erupted from Ki'air’s weapon, expanding outward until it formed a massive dome, enclosing the entire courtyard in darkness. The world beyond vanished, replaced by an ominous sphere that shimmered with eerie energy. Hitomi could only see the sands beneath her feet and Ki’air’s scythe still anchored into the ground, casting the only dim light in this twisted arena.

Hitomi looked around, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the darkness surrounding her. Dao and Torr'n lifeless bodies were gone, even Wryn had somehow slipped from her grasp. This was unlike anything she’d encountered before—a technique that evaded her understanding. For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed her features, though her arrogance quickly masked it. “So, this is a Supreme Art? Tuh– how dramatic.” She sneered, the mockery clear in her tone. “All this fuss for some theatrics? A poor display if I’m honest.”

But as soon as the words left her mouth, the atmosphere shifted. The air above her rippled, and from the darkness emerged a swarm of spectral scythes, each blade glinting with deadly intent. They came from every direction, raining down from above, jutting from the ground, swirling in erratic patterns—all bound by chains extending from the shadows. Their numbers seemed endless, each one moving with a will of its own, yet polarized to her head.

Hitomi’s smirk vanished, replaced by a focused determination. Channeling her Naten, she performed an Ava that erected a small defensive aura around her, heightening her speed and fortifying her defenses as she leapt into motion. She twisted and spun, her body a blur as she dodged between the onslaught of scythes, her form dancing through the deadly rain of metal with supernatural speed.

Yet, despite her agility, the scythes came relentlessly and the barrier itself prevented her from escaping the deadly assault. Every step brought her closer to another blade; every dodge was met with a new wave of attacks. She gritted her teeth, a bead of sweat trailing down her temple.

For the first time, Hitomi began to understand the weight of Ki'air’s power. The scythes were unending, a manifestation of his will that showed no mercy, each swing like the bony hand of death reaching for her. She winced as they tore through the robes, overwhelming her defensive aura and eventually slicing into her flesh. And the first strike was enough to bring her to heel. It felt as if her literal soul had been gashed and pulled from her wound. She opened her mouth to scream, but the strength was robbed from her. She tumbled to the sands, and generated a makeshift barrier to deflect the raining blades.

”This.. this is the power you sought.”

Ki'air's voice howled through the razor-sharp winds as he appeared within the storm of sickles like an apparition. ”The might of someone who clawed, bled, and fought to earn it!”

He advanced toward his scythe, wrenching it from the ground as tears streamed down his face. ”I may pay with my life for this.. but I refuse to let you live after what you've done.”

His words bled through the seams of her whittling barrier, but Hitomi was too frazzled to focus. She looked to be praying as she performed an Ava of her own, reinforcing the strength of her defenses.. but it was for nought. With tears rolling down his cheeks, Ki'air lifted his scythe, causing the maelstrom of sharpened metal to intensify a thousand fold.

“For Dao.. for Wryn.. for Torr'n.”

“Die.”

[Hitomi Yaarou]

The courtyard was shrouded in eerie silence as the massive dome of Ki'air's Supreme Art loomed before the assembled Elders and acolytes. The Acolytes, novices who had only read of such forbidden magic in ancient texts, stared in awe and apprehension. Murmurs rippled through their ranks, eyes wide as they asked questions of each other and, finally, directed their voices toward the Elders.

"Elder Ayune," one of the younger Acolytes spoke, breaking the tense silence, "..where did this barrier come from? Why can’t we see inside it?"

Ayune folded her hands, eyes fixed on the darkened dome, as if trying to pierce its depths through sheer will alone. She took a steadying breath, then began. "What you are witnessing is the Supreme Art—a pinnacle of Hexcraft and the Yaarou Ephemeral Arts– a mastery few ever achieve. The Supreme Art creates a sealed space, an isolated world bound by the caster's intent and power. Within it, the caster holds unparalleled control over reality itself, shaping the rules to their will." Her voice held a note of reverence, tempered by the gravity of the scene before them.

A murmur of astonishment washed over the Acolytes as they absorbed her words, their expressions shifting from awe to something more somber.

"Yes, it strong..but it is also among the clan's most dangerous techniques," Elder Jhun-shi interjected, his gaze darkened by worry. "A Supreme Art’s power is vast, often absolute, and rarely merciful. Even those with noble intent may find it slipping beyond their control. Once initiated, it is typically lethal for one or more parties within."

The younger Acolytes exchanged anxious glances. Some of their faces paled, realizing that this was no mere spectacle. Elder Jhun-shi’s own discontent was plain, his lips pressed into a thin line. "We are blind to what happens inside," he added, his tone laced with frustration. "And I do not trust the course of this battle… not with stakes this high."

Elder Ayune kept her gaze trained on the dome but nodded in reluctant agreement. "I understand your worry, Jhun," she replied, her voice softer, "but I trust that Ki'air will exercise the caution our Al-Korei are known for. Whatever rivalry festers between them, he would not intentionally destroy the Heir."

Jhun’s expression tightened. "It is the nature of a Supreme Art to overwhelm. No matter how disciplined Ki'air may be, such power may not allow for restraint." His voice cracked with an edge of exasperation, which deepened into a profound anxiety as cracks began to snake along the dome’s surface, trembling with uncontained energy.

The spherical surface of the Supreme Art started to fracture and collapse inward, dissolving into wisps of energy that scattered across the sands before fading entirely. The courtyard was thrown back into full view, the combatants laid bare. The Elders and Acolytes gasped, eyes widening in shock at the sight.

Only Hitomi remained standing, battered and bloodied, her gaze vacant as her form swayed unsteadily. Strewn across the sands lay Wryn, Dao, and Ki'air—or what remained of them. Their bodies reduced to skeletal husks, bleached white and stripped bare as though devoured by time itself.

Elder Jhun’s heart sank as he immediately recognized what happened, even if he couldn't see it. This was Hitomi’s Endless Art, the innate power she was born with that developed her callous ego —an invisible field of entropy, an aura of dissolution and decay that unraveled everything it touched, or cursed it to oblivion. Ordinarily, her Hexcraft was suppressed, kept in check by ancient seals placed upon her body– The Gate's Of Orion. But now, with those seals shattered, the field spread unchecked, disintegrating all in its path.

Within moments, the sands beneath her began to gray and crumble; breaking down into finer dust at an unnatural speed. The bone fragments of the fallen warriors began to erode, disintegrating like dry leaves consumed by invisible flames. Even the air itself grew thick with decay, a stifling weight pressing down on the courtyard.

The acolytes recoiled, panic flashing across their faces as the ground beneath them started to blacken.. An ornate stone pillar nearby crumbled under its influence, withering as if hundreds of years had passed in mere seconds.

Elder Jhun felt the full, terrible force of her unleashed power. Memories surged through him of the day they had placed those seals upon her as an infant, channeling layers of Hexcraft and invoking sacred rites to contain what they now saw unraveling before them. He knew what would happen if he didn’t act, and fast.

“Ayune!” he called urgently, snapping her from her stunned trance. “Prepare a restoration field—quickly!”

Without hesitation, Ayune performed an Ava to gather her energies, reciting a chant to counteract the overwhelming decay around them. Meanwhile, Jhun surrounded himself in a layer of Naten, reinforcing his body before stepping forward.

Each step was a struggle against the corrosive field that sapped his strength, as if invisible tendrils clawed at his skin. His protective barrier sparked and sputtered, growing thin with each passing second. His mind raced, remembering every detail of the ancient seals, the precise placement, the incantations. It had to be perfect, or her power would consume her—and everyone around her.

Drawing close, Jhun could see Hitomi’s fractured seals flickering on her skin, ancient sigils pulsing erratically. Her form trembled with exhaustion, and wounds wept blood as her power spun out of control. Pressing through the deadly aura, Jhun reached out, placing his palm on her back. Her body jolted at the touch, the chaos of her power raging against him like a living thing.

Summoning every ounce of his strength, he focused on the binding technique. His hand glowed as the energies activated. And soon Hitomi’s field of entropy faltered, retracting inward as the seal began to reestablish itself, locking her power back into containment.

The ground ceased its decay, the blackened sands no longer shifting. But the cost was clear—Jhun staggered, his hand eroded to the bone and his strength spent. His breaths were shallow, and he could still feel the searing effect of her energy on his skin.

As the dust settled, he cast a weary gaze upon his Paragon, who now lay unconscious, her power quelled but the faint remnants of her scars visible. The courtyard bore the signs of the devastation she’d unleashed—crumbling stones, withered sands, and a stark silence that hung in the air, as if even the world around them understood the danger she posed. And for a moment, he wondered if it was too great. He wondered if he should take divine judgment into his own hands– to keep what they held so loosely under wraps, from washing over Vescrutia like a flood. But could he kill? If he tried, would her power just erupt from her flesh unchecked? Jhun's shallow breathing soon calmed and relaxed as he took Hitomi in his arms and gingerly carried her over to Elder Ayune’.

“When she wakes.. begin your session. I have no doubts.. that she'll be eager to learn.. how to heal her wounds..” He said, gingerly placing her Hitomi on the ground, within Elder Ayune's restorative field before he proceeded onward, out of the courtyard. “Jhun, you’re injured.. please, allow to–”

“No.” He said plainly, performing an Ava with only good hand that slowly began to mend his injuries. “I’ll manage Elder.. We must keep focus on task ahead. The Coronation is still tomorrow, and the Heir still has much to learn before she is ready.” His voice trailed off as he proceeded into the expansive compound, disappearing to handle all of the chaos and destruction Hitomi had wrought. “When she has completed your tasks, tell the heir to send for me again for her next lesson.”

[Hitomi Yaarou]

The sun casted a faint bluish hue over the stone path leading to the Yaarou Shrine as Hitomi ascended its steps, dressed in far more comfortable attire following her eventful morning. She had just completed her lesson with Elder Ayune, who had guided her through the intricacies of Shōkotsu, the Cellular Rebirth Technique (CRT).

–Shōkotsu harnessed Naten to accelerate cellular regeneration, allowing practitioners to heal injuries and restore vitality by pushing the body's capacity for cellular division to its limits. With mastery, it could rejuvenate spirit, endurance, flesh, and bone, but the technique exacted a steep toll. Mastering even its basic forms required years, if not decades, of dedication. The art also demanded a meticulous balance and anatomical knowledge in order ro properly compensate for blood loss, and fatigue. Not too mention the physical strain alone could lead to cranial hemorrhaging.

Yet, under Ayune’s watchful guidance, Hitomi had grasped the essence of Shōkotsu more quickly than most. Within her first lesson in fact, she managed to master the basic forms of CRT. Still, gaps lingered—elusive, frustrating details that would require more effort. But she didn't have time to focus on the nuances.

Her mind was fixated on her battle with the Al-Korei. She had expected them to be strong—but not that strong. Despite all her skill, she had nearly fallen to the Supreme Art of one their Hexless warriors. The memory left her not only humbled but burning with a sense of urgency. She needed to develop her own; the thought of facing another foe without it filled her with a nagging feeling of inadequacy.

Ahead, the Shrine loomed quietly among the mid-day rays, nestled within an ancient grove of twisted trees, their gnarled branches reaching skyward like ghostly fingers. Usually, Hitomi found peace in the Shrine’s otherworldly tranquility, but today, it felt daunting.

She paused at the threshold, resting a hand on the smooth wood of the door. Seeking out Elder Jhun was unconventional; tradition dictated she send for him and wait. But this felt too urgent, too personal for that kind of patience. Besides, why else would be waiting within the Xhi'on Shrine? He knew she was coming.. And he knew what she wanted. So with a deep breath, she swallowed her pride and slipped inside. The faint aroma of incense met her as she crossed the polished floor, her footsteps soft against the silence.

The chamber was dim, with a single beam of sunlight filtering through a small, round window near the ceiling, casting a gentle glow on the kneeling figure at the center. Elder Jhun’s back was to her, his posture unmoving, hands resting on his knees in deep meditation. His breathing was so controlled it seemed he had melded into the very stillness of the room.

Hitomi cleared her throat, her voice a respectful murmur that nonetheless punctured the silence. “Elder Jhun,” she began, her tone steady. “I’ve come to request another lesson.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he finished a long, slow breath, finally acknowledging her with a slight tilt of his head. “You’ve only just left Elder Ayune’s side. Are you not satisfied with the Rejuvenative arts she has shown you?”

“I am,” Hitomi replied carefully, her fingers curling slightly at her sides. “Her teachings were thorough enough. But there’s… something else I wish to understand.”

“Is that so?” Jhun opened one eye, glancing over his shoulder. “And what is it that burns so urgently within you, my Paragon?”

Hitomi hesitated, and rolled her eyes in agitation. “Oh, I bet you’re just loving this,” she muttered under her breath. She could still feel the lingering shame from her narrow escape against the Al-Korei—a bitter reminder of her limitations, despite her delusions of perfection.

She gathered her thoughts, steadying herself before speaking. “In my battle with the Al-Korei,” she started slowly, “I saw a glimpse of what a Supreme Art can do. I.. barely survived it, and there was no way they’d have come close to beating me without it!” Her voice faltered, and she forced herself to take a measured breath, willing herself to let go of her pride. “I realized…” She paused, folding her arms, unable to meet his gaze. “I realized that maybe.. ugh, you were.. kinda', sorta right.”

Jhun shifted, turning to face her fully, his expression unreadable save for the faint, habitual haughtiness lifting his nose. “When I told you of the inherent strength that comes with being Xhi’on, I wasn't speaking to hear myself talk. Though, I suppose I do have a lovely voice.” he added with a slight smile as he looked around, his gaze hovering over the Shrine’s collection of statues, dedicated to Xhi'on of the past. “The Supreme Art is aptly named, as it is the Yaarou Tribe’s most powerful technique—a skill each clan head has mastered, not out of desire but out of intrinsic duty.”

Hitomi frowned, masking the flicker of irritation in her voice. “Yes, I know what they are; I've read all the books and tomes.. but.. I just–”

Jhun’s gaze sharpened, his tone carrying a calm gravity. “Hmm, then it is the application that eludes you, yes? Understand, the technique is not as practical to grasp as perhaps the Ephemeral Arts. It is a reflection of oneself, drawing from the quintessential reaches of one’s spirit. They are woven from every strength, every flaw, every scar, and every triumph. To wield such power, you must be whole. Your Hexcraft is formidable, yes, but it is raw—wild and unrefined. It takes as much as it gives, breaking down everything it touches… including you.”

Hitomi listened intently, her mind spinning with the weight of his words. But beneath her humility, a flicker of frustration smoldered. “I wouldn't even know where to start..”

Jhun’s eyes glinted with a faint smile as he gestured to a nearby mat. “Let us begin. To start, let's focus on understanding the core elements of Supreme Art. And to start, we focus on the intricacies of barriers.” As she folded her legs onto the mat, Jhun continued, “At its core, the Supreme Art is accomplished by consecrating a given space with your Naten, and using a proper barrier technique to maintain it within an isolated realm. The caster then imbues the barrier with their Hexcraft, expanding the range and potency of their techniques a thousand fold.”

Hitomi nodded. “I can handle barriers, that’s not the problem. It’s more like…” She paused, frowning as she searched for the right words. “It’s like trying to paint inside the lines when I don’t even know where the lines are.”

Jhun took a moment to ponder her words before his lips curved into a thoughtful smile. “Then perhaps… we don’t.” He stroked his beard before performing an Ava– this caused his finger to emit a bright, orange light that he used to draw on the floor between them. “Considering your concept of 'painting inside the lines'; don't think of the barrier itself as the canvas, but rather, everything else.”

As Jhun spoke, he began to illustrate his words with his finger, hoping that a visual demonstration would help further his point. Hitomi watched intently, as his words seemed lost on her until she watched the display. “So.. try to paint on the ground then? The environment?” She said with a budding sense of confidence. Elder Jhun only smiled before clasping his hands, dispelling the figurative marker of light. “Why stop there? With your abilities, I wouldn't be surprised if you could paint on the very air we breathe. But not without patience.. effort and will.”

Elder Jhun said as he closed his eyes, causing the Yaarou Shrine to begin to hum with a silent presence of power. Hitomi could feel it; lifting the hairs on the back of her neck. It initially unnerved her until she looked back at Elder Jhun’s calm demeanor. His eyes were comforting, but they never looked more powerful. “We will begin at once, my Paragon. If you are to be crowned tomorrow, then you must not waste another second of the day.”

[Hitomi Yaarou]

(.. The Next Day ..)

The grand hall of the Yaarou Palace stood resplendent under the glow of thousands of lanterns. Their soft vermillion light danced across the polished stone floors, the towering gold pillars, and the vast tapestries depicting the storied history of the Yaarou tribe. The room was filled with a sea of faces—nobles, warriors, and commonfolk alike—each gaze turned toward the dais at the far end of the chamber. The air was thick with anticipation, reverence, and a palpable tension.

Atop the dais stood an ornately carved podium, behind which stood an older man with crimson eyes and snow-white hair. This polarizing figure was known as Elder Hayate’ and he'd been appointed as Master of Ceremonies for this momentous occasion. He was a man of formidable presence, his white robes edged in crimson and gold, a symbol of his impartial service to the tribe. Beside him, the council of elders—including Elder Jhun and Elder Ayune’—sat in solemn formation, their expressions betraying neither approval nor doubt.

Elder Hayate’ raised his hand, silencing the hall with an effortless gesture. His voice, rich and authoritative, carried effortlessly across the chamber.

“Today, we gather as one to honor the traditions of our ancestors, to acknowledge the trials of our present, and to prepare for the journey of our future.”

The audience murmured their agreement, the rustling like the whispers of a great forest. Hayate’ continued, his hands clasped before him.

“For generations, we have been guided by our Xhi’on, chosen not by birthright alone but by their might, power, and divine right to rule. And now, after a time of uncertainty—following the death of The Veiled Whisper, Xhi'on Aoi—a new Paragon emerges to lead us through the tides of change.”

A pause, deliberate and laden with meaning, drew every ear closer.

“Let us welcome to the dais, Hitomi Yaarou—The Fifth Xhi’on to the Yaarou Clan.”

The hall erupted into thunderous applause, a wave of sound that surged toward the entrance. Yet within the sea of clapping hands and cheering voices, there were glimmers of discontent. Among the warriors and nobles, some exchanged subtle glances, their eyes betraying skepticism. Hitomi’s youth and perceived inexperience loomed large in their minds, and their applause, though present, lacked the fervor of their peers. A few elders on the fringes of the hall leaned toward one another, their whispered words masked by the roar of approval.

The double doors swung open with a resounding thud, revealing Hitomi standing at the threshold. Her ceremonial attire was breathtaking: a flowing robe of crimson and gold, adorned with intricate embroidery of celestial flames and blooming lotuses. A thin, radiant crown of pure gold rested upon her brow, its design simple yet commanding.

She began her ascent toward the dais, her strides measured and deliberate. Her expression was one of quiet strength despite the bags under her eyes. She'd up training literally all night with Elder Jhun and could barely see straight through her exhaustion. Her make up had done well to conceal her fatigue, but beneath her composed exterior, her mind swirled with the weight of the moment.. Her gaze remained fixed forward, though she couldn’t ignore the sharp, sideward glances from a handful of skeptics.

When she reached the dais, she knelt before Elder Hayate’, who held a ceremonial staff in one hand and a scroll in the other. He lowered the staff, its end glowing faintly with a warm light, touching it gently to her shoulder.

“Do you, Hitomi, swear to guide your people with wisdom and valor, to strengthen our warriors and defend our future? To uphold the tenets of our ancestors while ushering in a new era of glory for the clan?”

“I swear..” Hitomi replied, her voice unwavering, resonating with conviction.

“Then rise, My Xhi’on.”

As she stood, Elder Hayate’ reached into a gilded box held reverently by an attendant. From within, he withdrew the Ring of Hatred, a relic of emerald banded with streaks of inscribed gold, glinting ominously in the lantern light. It was a symbol of burden and strength, forged in ancient times from the remainders of a cosmic calamity. It was the Yaarou Clan's most powerful weapon, and strictly beholded to the Xhion.

Kneeling once more, Hitomi extended her hand. Hayate’ slid the ring onto her finger with care, his voice low but resonant as he intoned, “With this ring, you bear not only the might of our people but also their fears, their sorrows, and their hopes. May the fates continue to bend at your will."

The weight of the ring was immediate and profound, as though it pulsed with a will of its own. Hitomi’s hand trembled for a moment before she steadied herself, raising her gaze to meet Hayate’s.

“Behold your Paragon!” Hayate’ announced, turning to the crowd. “May Orion’s Will guide her steps and light our way forward!”

The hall erupted in applause once more, but now Hitomi could feel the undercurrent of unease. The skeptics among the audience clapped, though their expressions betrayed lingering doubts. It widened her smile as she turned to face the sea of faces, raising her hands in acknowledgment. The crowd’s cheers surged, a living testament to their hope and belief in her—or, for some, their grudging acceptance of what tradition demanded.

As she gazed upon them, a mix of pride and determination swelled within her chest. She knew this was only the beginning.

From his seat among the elders, Elder Jhun observed her with a faint smile, his eyes betraying a rare glimmer of pride. Though his teachings had guided her here, he knew her path forward would be hers alone to forge.

[Hitomi Yaarou]

As the ceremonial proceedings concluded, the crowd began to disperse into the adjoining banquet hall, where tables laden with exotic fruits, rich meats, and flowing wines awaited. The air buzzed with conversations ranging from cautious optimism to whispered doubts, the weight of Hitomi's ascension hanging over every exchange like an unspoken challenge.

The Xhi'on lingered on the dais for a moment, her gaze fixed on the Ring of Hatred now encircling her finger. Its golden band seemed to absorb the glow of the lanterns, while the emerald jewel pulsed faintly, as though it held a heartbeat of its own. She tightened her fist, the cold, unyielding weight of the artifact grounding her as she steeled herself for the trials ahead.

“My Paragon,” Elder Jhun’s voice broke through her thoughts. He had approached with the same silent grace that marked all his movements, his expression composed yet tinged with a warmth reserved only for her. “You’ve done well. But this is only the beginning.”

“I am aware,” Hitomi replied, her tone softer now, stripped of the ceremonial weight she had carried moments before. “The hardest part isn’t standing here; it’s staying here and proving I belong.”

Jhun’s weathered face softened with a rare smile, his eyes reflecting an unspoken pride. “In time, even the loudest doubters will see what I have always seen in you.” He gestured toward the banquet hall, where nobles and warriors gathered in small clusters, their expressions varying from open admiration to veiled skepticism. “But a Xhi’on does not rule from the shadows. Let them see your strength, and do not shy from the scrutiny.”

With a small sigh and a roll of her eyes, Hitomi descended the dais, her ceremonial robes flowing behind her like a cascade of molten fire. The murmurs and side glances followed her like shadows, but she walked with an unflinching poise, her chin held high. The crowd parted as she moved through the hall, some bowing low in deference, others merely offering a curt nod.

The banquet hall was alive with motion: courtiers exchanging pleasantries, warriors raising goblets in her honor, and servants weaving deftly through the throng with trays of delicacies. Yet despite the revelry, an undercurrent of tension laced the atmosphere, like a coiled spring waiting to snap.

“Lady Xhi’on,” a voice called smoothly from her left. Turning, she came face to face with Lord Rii'yuu, a prominent noble whose influence extended far beyond the palace walls. His white hair gleamed under the lantern light, and his red eyes—hallmarks of the Yaarou’s primary lineage—gleamed with an inscrutable sharpness. His bow was shallow, his words polite, but his eyes betrayed a calculated skepticism.

“Elder Rii'yuu,” Hitomi replied evenly, inclining her head just enough to acknowledge his stature. “I wasn’t certain the West would be in attendance tonight.”

Rii'yuu’s lips curled into a faint smile, though it held no warmth. “How could we decline? Your coronation is an occasion of great importance. A new dawn for the Yaarou, as they say.” His gaze flickered briefly to the ring on her finger. “And yet, one cannot help but wonder how you intend to carry such a heavy mantle in these turbulent times.”

Hitomi met his thinly veiled challenge with an unwavering gaze. “Times of difficulty demand strength,” she said, her tone measured but firm. “And strength is something I do not lack.”

Rii'yuu’s smile deepened, though there was a glint of amusement—or perhaps provocation—in his eyes. “So I’ve heard. The youngest Xhi’on in our history, and though I have not gauged it myself, the most powerful to ever live. I trust time will reveal whether faith and fact are one in the same...” He raised his voice just enough for the surrounding nobles to take notice, their whispers growing louder as curious gazes turned toward the exchange.

Hitomi’s expression remained unreadable. She offered no rebuttal, only a slight tilt of her head, her silence daring him to press further. After a moment of palpable tension, Rii'yuu relented, his bow more perfunctory this time. “I look forward to seeing your plans unfold, Lady Xhi’on. Tomorrow’s council session will be... illuminating.”

“I have no doubt you’ll find it engaging,” she replied, her words carrying an edge.

As the evening wore on, Hitomi found herself surrounded by a mix of faces—some familiar, others less so. Advisors eager to curry favor, warriors pledging their loyalty, and even a handful of skeptical elders whose questions bordered on outright challenges. No different than Lord Rii'yuu, they were relentless. However, through it all, Hitomi maintained her composure, her words measured and deliberate, each response reinforcing her position.

When the hall finally began to thin, and the lanterns burned lower, Hitomi managed to slipp away to a balcony overlooking the palace grounds. The cool night air washed over her, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from the gardens below. She leaned on the railing, her gaze drifting to the moonlit expanse of the lands of Edo, beyond the walls of the compound. Her heart was heavy with the enormity of her task, but beneath it burned a quiet resolve. The whispers of doubt, the challenges of leadership—they were all part of the path she had chosen. A path she wondered if her father would have approved of.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” came a voice from the shadows.

Turning, Hitomi found Elder Ayune’ standing in the archway, her sharp features framed by her ivory locs. The elder stepped forward, her presence commanding even in the dim light.

“I trust you’ve enjoyed the evening, Elder,” Hitomi said, her voice steady but tinged with weariness.

Ayune’ offered a faint smile. “This night was not meant for me, my Paragon. But I must admit, the palace chefs have truly outdone themselves. Although..” her gaze shifted to the horizon, mirroring Hitomi’s, “..it seems the weight of the ring is heavier than expected.”

“..Oh please..” Hitomi brushed her fingers over the Ring of Hatred reflexively, her lips quirking into a faint smirk. “It’s smaller than what I'm used to, but I think it fits rather well.”

Ayune’s expression grew somber, her voice low. “Good. Because doubt has no place in your heart, Hitomi. The challenges you face will be unrelenting, and the tribe’s future rests on your shoulders.”

For a moment, Hitomi said nothing, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon. “Thank you, Elder. You are dismissed.”

Ayune’ inclined her head and retreated into the hall, leaving Hitomi alone with her thoughts. She tightened her grip on the railing, the cool metal biting into her palms. The weight of the ring, of her title, of the expectations thrust upon her, felt immense—but she would carry it. She had to. This was her destiny.