The air in the southern hills was heavy, thick with a mist that seemed to reject sunlight. Rai moved quietly through the ruins of an old shinobi watchtower, his breath calm, his chakra tight.
A mission. A real one.
No Kaida. No test. This was unknown terrain, and something in it might try to kill him.
He stepped into a clearing strewn with broken tiles and faded warding pillars. The moss underfoot whispered of age.
Then the pressure shifted.
The air split—quietly, without thunder or flair. A ripple unfolded, then twisted open like torn parchment. And from it emerged a sword.
Long. Elegant. Tapered to a cruel point.
It floated in the air, motionless—but the atmosphere darkened around it.
Its aura was different. Old. And aware.
Rai flinched as words came—not spoken, but impressed on his mind like thoughts too large for language.
"You are not a magician."
Rai reached for his Reliquary. "You're not a summon."
"Correct. I was not made. I was chosen."
A tremor went through Rai's hands. The sword was sentient. And not just that—it was reading him.
He stepped back, mentally scanning his available cards.
"Let's test something."
He drew.
Twin-Headed Behemoth.
A burst of blue and violet light formed beside him as the dragon uncoiled into being—both heads snarling, wings tense.
The sword didn't wait.
It surged forward like a thunderbolt, leaving afterimages in its wake. Rai barely shouted in time—
"Intercept!"
Behemoth lunged.
Steel met scales in a crack that echoed through the ruins—and Behemoth shattered, collapsing into motes of energy.
But Rai didn't panic. He remembered the effect.
And five seconds later, the shimmering returned—smaller, weaker, but alive.
The sword paused.
It didn't emote. But Rai felt it… evaluate.
"Resilience… but not duration. You cannot maintain more than one."
Rai grit his teeth.
The sword advanced again—but this time, slower. Testing. Its movements were angled, strategic. It stayed just outside Behemoth's striking range, circling.
"No field dominance. No contractor presence. Only projection. The system is fragile."
Rai reached again—searching for something fast.
He whispered, "Rush Recklessly."
The card shimmered. Behemoth surged forward with renewed energy.
The sword twisted midair to avoid the charge—but Rai had already moved, circling the battle.
"I don't know who these magicians are," he said, eyes narrowing. "But I don't need to be like them to beat you."
The sword turned on him now.
It recognized the tactic. Distraction. Bait. Chakra limitation.
But as it moved, Rai activated his next card.
Swords of Revealing Light.
Blades of light erupted in a hex around the floating sword, halting its advance mid-motion.
The blade trembled once. Then stopped.
Rai was breathing hard. His chakra reserves were thin—his hand was down to nearly nothing.
But his enemy was locked, and Behemoth still stood.
Not a clean win—but survival.
He watched the sword, trapped in light. Its aura no longer curious—now… resentful.
"You are the vessel. You should not be."
Rai knelt, panting.
"I don't care what I should be. I'm here now."
The sword vanished, sucked backward into the breach from which it had come—severed, but not gone.
Rai didn't smile.
This wasn't over.