Three days had passed, and every Kurogane knew what Ren had done.

  Yet no one had ever been told to wait for judgment. That alone made Ren Kurogane a special case.

  The main reason the elders had not killed him was simple: Ren was a powerful fighter, one who could stand firm on any battlefield. Strength like that was rare—and valuable.

  As the wind blew calmly through the stone corridors, Tetsuyu went to visit Kaien, hoping to learn the whereabouts of his brother.

  Tetsuyu was tall and nonchalant, with piercing blue eyes that missed very little. Though he rarely showed emotion, he was quietly amused by Ren’s defiance. Ever since they were children, whenever Ren found trouble, Tetsuyu had always been there to protect him.

  But this time, he had failed.

  No matter how carefully Tetsuyu questioned him, Kaien revealed nothing. He had sworn secrecy. The location of a Kurogane prisoner was never shared—not even among family. Revealing it would endanger not only the prisoner, but the entire clan. Some would seek to help Ren, others to harm him, and most wanted punishment: execution, banishment, or public humiliation.

  None of it was acceptable.

  Understanding the gravity of the situation, Tetsuyu finally left.

  That very afternoon, Kaien was summoned to an elders’ meeting.

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  When he arrived, all the distinguished elders were present, seated in a half-circle. The topic was clear before a single word was spoken.

  “The Ren Kurogane problem,” the Chief Elder said calmly.

  Ideas flew back and forth. Some demanded execution. Others insisted on banishment. But none of them could act directly. Ren’s aura was strong—unnaturally so—and it kept even the elders at bay.

  They turned to Kaien.

  “Do you know anything about him?” one asked.

  Kaien remembered fragments of things his mother, Akari, had once said—things she never explained. But he refused to involve her. Whatever was happening, she would not allow her to be dragged into it.

  At last, a decision was reached.

  “We give him a second chance,” the Chief Elder said. “But the public will not be informed. We will use… the Kurogane Way.”

  The atmosphere shifted instantly.

  The Kurogane Way was not a path—it was a code. A method reserved for those who rejected the blade. Psychological torture disguised as teaching. A lesson meant to break the will and rebuild the mind.

  Kaien had endured it once himself.

  If the lesson succeeded, the subject became a perfect weapon—obedient, merciless, unquestioning. If it failed, the results were far worse: madness, lifelong trauma, or death.

  Ren was taken to the inner room beneath his cell.

  Deep below the stone floor lay a hidden compartment where the blade was kept.

  As Ren was forced to sit, a man stepped forward and spoke calmly.

  “Are you a Kurogane?”Yes,” Ren answered.

  And the torture began.

  “We live by three guiding principles,” the man said. “Principles that have kept our clan alive for generations.”

  Each word sank into Ren’s mind, reshaping his thoughts.

  “The first: the blade is law. To go against the blade is to go against the clan.”

  Ren’s vision blurred.

  “The second: the blade must not hesitate. Battles must end quickly. Kill your enemy before they kill you.”

  Ren froze, caught in a trance. The man smiled, believing the hypnotherapy was working.

  A sudden surge of aura rippled through the room.

  The man ignored it.

  “And the third,” he continued, “if you are not willing to kill—do not draw your sword.”

  The session ended.

  Ren was returned to his cell, unmoving and silent.

  The man reported back to the elders. “It worked. He will regain his senses soon.”

  That was enough for them.

  But as Ren knelt in the darkness, seemingly broken, something else stirred beneath the prison.

  Something ancient.

  Something watching.

  Ren had not been broken—he had noticed something.

  And whatever it was, it wanted Ren to notice it too.

  This was only the beginning.