Two guards leaned against the inner gate, rifles slung loose, boredom heavier than their armor.
"Dude," one of them muttered, adjusting his helmet, "why the hell can't we get in on the action? Ogawa pays us to stand around like we're doormen at some luxury hotel or some shit."
The other guard did not even look at him. "Shut up. You really think either one of us would stand a chance against Moro Ashin?"
The first scoffed. "Hell yeah. The dude's overrated. He's killed a few people, sure, and yeah, his dad was some legendary swordsman, but whose dad wasn't back in the day?"
The second guard finally turned, unimpressed. "Yeah? Then be my guest. Go join the party."
The first guard opened his mouth, hesitated, then shrugged.
"Well… now that I think about it," he said, settling back against the stone, "we're getting paid pretty damn well to just watch a door."
He grinned. "So I'll pass this time."
The moment the words left his mouth, the entire fortress shuddered.
A deep, thunderous bang rolled through the stone, rattling torches loose from the walls. Dust poured from the ceiling. Both guards straightened instantly, hands snapping to their weapons.
Another impact followed, louder. Closer.
The inner gate groaned as if something massive had just tested its patience.
"What the hell was that?" the first guard whispered.
The third strike came like judgment.
Stone and iron cracked. The gate buckled inward as a shockwave tore through the corridor, slamming both guards into the wall. Their rifles clattered uselessly to the floor.
From beyond the ruined entrance came heavy footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Unhurried.
A towering silhouette filled the smoke.
Polished silver armor scorched and dented. Blonde hair darkened with debris and blood. A claymore rested across the man's shoulder like it belonged there, its edge chipped but hungry.
Sir William Henry stepped into the fortress.
He looked at the two stunned guards on the ground, eyes calm, voice steady.
"Gentlemen," he said, adjusting his grip on the blade, "you may wish to reconsider your employment."
One of the guards scrambled to his feet and bolted down the corridor in blind panic.
"ALARM!" he screamed, slamming his palm against the brass lever embedded in the wall. The bell rang sharp and frantic, echoing through the fortress halls. "Kurokage to the inner gate!"
Sir William watched him run, expression almost regretful.
"Gentlemen," he said calmly, planting his feet as the remaining guard fumbled for his rifle, "I was just going to warn Ogawa of my arrival."
The claymore slid from William's shoulder and settled into his hands with a quiet, reverent weight.
"But alas," William continued, eyes hardening as shadows began to move deeper in the corridor, "you force me to draw my sword."
The guard fired.
William stepped into the shot. The round sparked uselessly off his armor as he advanced. His right hand lashed out in a single, devastating hook.
The guard barely had time to scream before William's fist met his face. The impact hurled him into the wall in a spray of blood and shattered bone.
Footsteps answered the alarm. Fast. Silent.
Black figures emerged from the far end of the hall, masks gleaming dully in the torchlight.
Kurokage.
William exhaled once, steadying himself, and raised his blade.
"Come then," he said quietly.
They rushed him.
The Kurokage struck as one.
Three came low, blades flashing for his legs. Two vaulted from the walls, steel angled for his neck and spine. Another vanished entirely, already repositioning for the kill.
Sir William did not retreat.
He stepped forward.
The claymore swept out in a massive horizontal arc, its weight screaming through the air. The first shinobi never saw it. Steel met torso, carving clean through armor and bone. The body folded in two and collapsed in opposite directions.
William pivoted and brought the blade down like a guillotine. A second Kurokage tried to parry. The claymore shattered the dagger, crushed through the mask, and drove the assassin into the stone floor hard enough to crater it.
Two more struck from behind.
William let them.
Twin blades pierced into his armor, sparks bursting as the steel failed to bite deep. William grunted, muscles coiling, then surged upward with a roar.
Both shinobi were ripped off the ground still clinging to his back.
William twisted violently and slammed them into the wall. Stone exploded outward in a cloud of dust and blood. One crumpled instantly. The other tried to flee.
The claymore impaled him mid step and pinned him to the floor.
The remaining Kurokage attacked together. One fast and precise. The other heavy and relentless. They darted in and out, cutting at joints, testing his armor, searching for weakness.
William smiled.
He planted his feet and lifted the claymore overhead with one arm.
One arm.
The Kurokage froze for half a heartbeat, disbelief flashing beneath their masks.
William brought the sword down.
The impact sent a shockwave through the corridor. The stone floor split, cracks racing outward like lightning. One shinobi was crushed completely, armor flattened, body reduced to ruin beneath the blade.
The last assassin leapt back, hurling shuriken in desperation.
William swatted them aside with his forearm and advanced, every step shaking the hall.
"I have crossed oceans," he said, voice rising with righteous fury. "I have buried kings. I have stood against armies."
The Kurokage lunged.
William met him head on, catching the assassin by the throat with one hand and lifting him clean off the ground. The shinobi kicked uselessly as William's grip tightened.
"I am a Son of Veyra," William thundered, slamming the assassin into the wall hard enough to crack the stone. "Born of steel and oath."
He drew back the claymore.
"Now tell me," he said coldly, bringing the blade through the Kurokage's body in a single brutal cut, "who among you dares match me?"
The body slid apart and fell.
Silence returned to the corridor, broken only by settling dust and the distant echo of alarms.
Sir William stood alone among the dead, blood steaming on his armor, claymore resting against the floor like an executioner awaiting the next name.
He stepped toward the trembling guard, boots crunching over shattered stone. The claymore rested against his shoulder, its edge still wet.
"Excuse me, kind sir," William said calmly. "You wouldn't happen to know where your leader, Ogawa, is at this very moment… would you?"
The guard shook his head at first, panic locking his jaw. William took one slow step closer.
The guard broke.
"South wing," he blurted. "Lower level. Big chamber. Observation room above it. That's where he watches fights."
William stopped.
"Continue."
"There's a lift at the end of this hall," the guard rushed on. "Or stairs behind the armory. Reinforced glass. Speakers in the walls. Cameras everywhere."
William nodded once.
"Very good."
He turned to leave, then paused.
"I appreciate your cooperation."
The guard did not wait. He scrambled to his feet and fled out the front gate, boots slipping as he vanished into the smoke.
William adjusted his grip on the claymore.
"South wing," he murmured.
Then he began walking.
Each step carried him closer to Ogawa.