Night fell over the Shirogiri Manor, the glow of lanterns flickering against the wooden walls. The weight of the day''s victory still lingered, but Ash knew better than to let his guard down. The Mori clan would not let humiliation pass so easily.


    He sat within the dimly lit chamber of his ancestors, gazing at the swords mounted on the walls. Each one bore the mark of the Shirogiri, a legacy of warriors who had once stood unshaken. His fingers traced the hilt of his own blade, the faint echo of the duel still thrumming in his veins.


    Then, the wind shifted.


    A presence.


    His breath stilled. The flickering candlelight revealed the faintest ripple in the darkness, a shadow too deep, too unnatural. Instinct roared through him, and he moved—just as a blade sliced through the space where his throat had been.


    Ash rolled, his own sword flashing free in a single motion. The assassin melted into the darkness, but not before Ash saw the glint of Mori steel.


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    The attack had begun.


    More figures emerged, stepping soundlessly into the chamber. Clad in black, their masks bore no insignias, but Ash knew who had sent them. This was the Mori''s answer to his defiance—if they could not claim victory in the light, they would take it in the shadows.


    "Cowards," he murmured under his breath.


    A blade came for his side. Ash twisted, feeling the unnatural sharpness of his reflexes take over. He parried, his counterstrike landing true—one assassin staggered back, blood staining the floor.


    But there were more. Too many.


    The fight spilled into the corridors of the manor, steel flashing beneath the glow of paper lanterns. Kenshiko appeared at his side, her own blade cutting down an attacker in one fluid motion.


    "Mori?" she asked, breath steady despite the chaos.


    "Who else?" Ash replied, shifting into another stance.


    The assassins regrouped, their formation shifting. This was no ordinary raid—this was a calculated strike, meant to erase him before his victory could solidify.


    But Ash was done running.


    He tightened his grip on his sword, his pulse steady. The whispers of the Forgotten Shadow curled in his mind, urging him forward.


    If the Mori wanted war, they had just declared it.