The Rengoku Clan’s stronghold loomed like a godless altar. Black-brick towers rose in jagged defiance of the sky, their red banners stitched with gilded fire and ancient kanji for "eternity" and "obedience."

  Ren adjusted his hood as their group approached the grand gates, flanked by spiked obsidian walls and armored guards who didn’t blink when they saw them coming.

  “This isn’t a fortress,” Jin muttered beside him. “It’s a graveyard waiting to happen.”

  Mae tilted her head at the guards, catching the flicker of nervous fingers near sword hilts. “They’re scared.”

  Ren nodded, eyes sharp. “But not of us.”

  Isamu remained quiet, watching everything. The Rengoku were an old clan—too old. Whispers spoke of dealings with gods and demons, and the way the guards averted their eyes around the inner sanctum made Ren’s gut churn.

  They were led through marble halls lacquered in blood red and gold. On the walls: portraits of past Lords of Rengoku, all painted with the same twisted smile.

  They were eventually brought before a wide throne chamber where Lord Kyosai Rengoku sat. He was elegant, ageless, draped in layers of crimson silk. His eyes gleamed like twin coals—too bright, too knowing.

  "Shikari," Kyosai said with a voice like poisoned honey. "We are most pleased. Humanity’s finest, come to serve the greater flame."

  Behind him stood a group of Shikari veterans in ceremonial armor. Their faces were unreadable, but their body language was tense.

  Kyosai gestured to them. "This is not merely a hunt. We are in the middle of a cleansing. The land has been defiled by a dark yokai presence, ancient and unseen. We request your help in securing our territory."

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  Ren didn’t speak. Not yet. But something about the way the word "cleansing" lingered on Kyosai’s tongue made his pulse slow.

  “We’ll need a full tactical overview,” Isamu said calmly. “Beast movement patterns. Essence signatures. Known threats.”

  Kyosai smiled wider. “Of course. My advisors will provide all you need. For now, rest. Eat. Know that you are under our protection.”

  Ren’s jaw tightened. "Protection" wasn’t a promise here. It was a collar.

  Later, after being shown to their lavish quarters, Ren sat alone by the window, eyes flicking between the glowing horizon and the firelit courtyard below.

  He opened his mandate. Essence Accumulation: 91/100. So close. Too close.

  “You feel it too, don’t you?” Mae said, leaning on the wall nearby. She wasn’t wearing her usual armor—just black cloth and a thin dagger at her side. “This place is wrong.”

  Ren gave a small nod. “They’re not hunting yokai.”

  “They’re silencing something,” Jin added from across the room. “I looked into their ‘deployment orders.’ The teams they sent out never reported back.”

  Isamu joined them, face grim. “And the records of the supposed yokai attacks? All falsified. Fabricated beast sightings. This isn't about protection. It’s containment.”

  Ren turned toward him. “Then what’s really out there?”

  Isamu hesitated before answering. “A resistance. A pocket of yokai who aren’t hostile—at least, not in the way we’re told. Something about them... they’re intelligent. Possibly sentient.”

  Jin frowned. “That’s not possible. Yokai are born from chaos. From hatred.”

  Mae shook her head. “Not all of them. There were old records... hidden in the restricted archives. Some yokai—called the Nasai—were ancient guardians, shaped by human emotion, not malice. They fought to protect.”

  Ren’s eyes narrowed. “And now they’re being exterminated.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. The room was warm, but it felt like the heart of a storm.

  “We’re not soldiers for this madness,” Mae said. “We should pull out. Return to the guild.”

  But Ren’s expression didn’t soften. “No. We stay. We learn. We uncover. If the Rengoku Clan is wiping out something they don’t understand, we’ll be the ones to drag that truth into the light.”

  Jin nodded slowly. “You’re thinking of leaking this to the guild.”

  “No,” Ren said. “I’m thinking of burning this place from the inside.”