The hush that followed Ash''s victory was heavy, a silence thick with disbelief. The gathered clans exchanged glances, murmurs passing like wind through the assembled crowd. Takeshi Mori stood frozen, his fingers trembling against the thin crimson line on his shoulder. He had lost.
Ash exhaled slowly, lowering his blade. He had won—not just the duel, but something more significant. The Shirogiri name had not been erased. Yet, before he could even step away, the tension in the air shifted.
A roar of frustration shattered the stillness.
"No!" Takeshi snarled. His breath was ragged, his face contorted with rage. His pride, his honor—both had been torn from him in front of the watching clans. His father''s expectations, his own arrogance—it all came crashing down in a single moment of defeat. And he could not accept it.
Ash barely had time to react before Takeshi lunged.
The crowd gasped. The duel had been decided. This was no longer honor—it was desperation, a man unwilling to accept his fate. Takeshi''s blade aimed directly for Ash''s chest, the sharp edge glinting in the dying sunlight.
Ash moved.
Faster than even he expected.
The world slowed as instinct, or something deeper, took hold. He sidestepped just as Takeshi''s sword cut through the space he had occupied a moment before. The movement was effortless, precise, unnatural.
Takeshi staggered, momentarily thrown off balance, but he wasn''t finished. He turned sharply, his anger fueling another reckless attack. Ash''s grip tightened on his sword.
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This time, he didn''t retreat.
Steel met steel in a sudden clash, the sound reverberating through the courtyard. Ash countered Takeshi''s desperate strikes with ease, his blade flowing like water against the fury of his opponent. The difference was clear—one fought with controlled precision, the other with blind rage.
The clan elders stirred, their whispers growing louder. "He has broken the rules," one murmured. "This is no longer a duel—it is an act of disgrace."
Lord Mori stood rigid, his gaze locked onto his son. He did not intervene, but his disappointment was evident. Takeshi was humiliating not only himself but the entire Mori name.
Ash knew he could end this.
He pivoted, stepping into Takeshi''s reckless charge, and with a swift, calculated movement, he struck the hilt of his sword against Takeshi''s wrist. A sharp cry followed as the Mori heir''s weapon flew from his grip, clattering against the stone ground.
Takeshi fell to one knee, panting, his rage momentarily overridden by shock. He looked up at Ash, eyes burning with fury, but beneath it—humiliation. Defeat. He had lost twice, and this time, there was no disputing it.
Ash stepped back, his sword lowering. He had nothing more to prove.
"It''s over," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Accept it."
The Mori heir clenched his fists, his entire body shaking. He wanted to deny it, to lash out again, but the weight of a hundred watching eyes bore down upon him.
Finally, with great effort, Takeshi forced himself to his feet. He turned without a word, his shoulders rigid with barely contained fury, and walked away. The Mori warriors followed, their expressions unreadable.
The moment the Mori left, the elders turned their gazes to Ash.
"The Shirogiri name stands," one of them finally said, breaking the silence. "This day will not be forgotten."
The gathered clans murmured their agreement, their eyes lingering on Ash a little longer than before. Some with newfound respect. Others with wary curiosity. But none saw him as a defeated heir any longer.
Kenshiko stepped beside him, her voice low. "You''ve made enemies today."
Ash exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he sheathed his blade. "They were always enemies. Now they just know they can''t bury me so easily."
A cold wind passed through the courtyard, carrying with it the weight of the night''s events.
The war for the Shirogiri legacy had only just begun.