The trees stood silent under the pale glow of the moon, their leaves trembling as if the forest itself sensed what was coming.
Ichigo followed Tanjiro through the winding woods, the air thick with tension. The trail had led them far beyond the outer borders of the allied kingdoms, into the forgotten wilds where whispers of war never died.
Tanjiro halted atop a mossy ridge.
Below them, in a valley swallowed by shadows, an enormous Mongol camp spread like a dark wound across the earth. Tents flapped in the wind. Bonfires crackled. Soldiers—hundreds of them—marched, trained, or lounged in drunken pride.
Ichigo's blue eyes narrowed.
"This is an invasion force," he whispered.
Tanjiro nodded. His eyes, glowing faintly red beneath his furrowed brows, scanned the camp. "We kill them now. Before they reach our lands."
Ichigo stepped forward. "Together."
⸻
Scene Shift: Mongol War Camp
A heavy gust swept through the camp as two figures appeared from the shadows. The soldiers laughed—jeering at the sight of two men alone.
Tanjiro's voice cut through their noise. "You're on sacred land. You have ten seconds to leave."
One massive warrior, taller than the rest, approached with arrogance. "Only two of you?" he laughed. "We'll keep your bones as trophies."
He reached out to mockingly pat Tanjiro's head.
Too slow.
Tanjiro vanished.
In a blink, he stood behind the man—blood dripping from his sword.
The soldier's body hit the ground without his head.
Panic rose. The camp exploded with movement.
Hundreds of Mongol warriors surged forward like a black tide.
⸻
The Battle Begins
Tanjiro dashed in first—a blur of crimson rage. His sword carved arcs of red light in the night air, slicing through armor and bone with terrifying elegance.
One slash. Two kills. Three steps. Five bodies.
Ichigo didn't move—yet.
He closed his eyes. His heartbeat slowed. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the blade gifted by Kael.
Then—he vanished.
Blue lightning tore across the battlefield.
A Mongol raised his sword—only to see a blur, then feel cold steel through his chest.
Ichigo reappeared in the center of the chaos, lightning pulsing from his body like a storm god. Every swing of his blade released a crackling arc that fried armor and flesh alike.
He spun, ducked, leapt—an elegant demon of speed and voltage.
Slash. Slide. Strike.
In one move, he cut down five men. In another, ten.
Meanwhile, Tanjiro's style was heavier, more brutal. He shattered spears with parries, kicked soldiers into trees, and crushed skulls with his elbow between strikes.
They weren't just killing.
They were unleashing.
The battlefield was now fire and thunder—red flashes and blue streaks painting the dark forest like a storm of hellish beauty.
⸻
The Turning Point
A horn blew.
Reinforcements.
More warriors surged in from the east hill—mounted archers and blade-wielders numbering over five hundred more.
Tanjiro looked at Ichigo. "We'll split them."
Ichigo nodded. "North and South."
Tanjiro charged toward the archers, leaping from tree to tree with supernatural grace. His blade reflected moonlight as he brought down the horsemen one by one, slicing reins, cutting arrows mid-air, decapitating riders mid-gallop.
Ichigo faced the wave of swordsmen.
He dropped his scabbard.
Then in a flash of light, his form blurred across the enemy line, leaving only sparks and corpses in his path.
One general screamed, "He's a demon!"
No—he was speed incarnate.
He spun mid-air, flipped over a barrage of spears, and landed with his blade piercing the earth.
BOOM.
A ring of electricity erupted outward, hurling twenty men backward like dolls.
Tanjiro appeared beside him again, panting.
Ichigo smirked. "Warmed up?"
Tanjiro cracked his neck. "Let's finish them."
⸻
Final Storm
The two warriors stood back to back now, surrounded by the last wave.
Tanjiro whispered, "Ten seconds."
Ichigo nodded. "That's all we need."
Ten.
Tanjiro's blade ignited with red fire—his aura rising like a blaze.
Ichigo's sword hummed with blue lightning, wind coiling around him.
Nine.
The Mongols charged.
Eight.
They moved.
Seven.
Red flashed left. Blue flashed right.
By the time the counter reached zero, the entire camp lay still—fires dying, smoke rising.
A thousand Mongols.
All gone.
The ground was scorched and painted in blood.
⸻
Ichigo dropped to one knee, breathing heavily. Tanjiro stood silently, watching the horizon.
Ichigo looked up. "That was close."
Tanjiro said nothing.
Then he spoke:
"This was just a scouting force."
Ichigo froze.
"They're testing our strength," Tanjiro said, eyes burning. "The real war hasn't even started."
The last of the Mongol warriors lay dead, the ground soaked in ash and blood. Smoke curled into the twilight air, but something didn't sit right.
Tanjiro turned slowly, his red eyes narrowing toward the tree line.
"Wait… We're not alone."
Ichigo, still charged with blue lightning, paused.
"Yeah… I feel it too. That aura—it's not like the others. It's watching us."
From the thick shadows between the trees, a strange pulse echoed—cold, deliberate, unnatural.
"He's hiding… observing."
Without hesitation, Ichigo whipped his hand.
A flaming ninja star blazed through the darkness—cutting through branches with a searing whistle.
A screech echoed. The shadows shifted.
"Direct hit," Ichigo smirked.
But Tanjiro's face didn't relax.
"No… he's still alive. Just injured. He's running."
Both of them dashed forward.
Cue high-speed chase.
Their feet barely touched the forest floor as they blurred between trees, wind slicing across their faces.
Lightning crackled behind Ichigo as he surged forward like a bolt from the heavens, while Tanjiro's red flame aura ignited leaves in his wake.
They saw glimpses of him now—a cloaked figure, bleeding but unnaturally fast, weaving between trees and leaping over logs with inhuman grace.
"He's no ordinary spy," Tanjiro growled.
"He's something else…"
Ichigo narrowed his eyes.
"Then let's make sure he doesn't reach his army."
They split paths, one circling right, the other cutting left.
The figure turned mid-run, flinging two black needles coated in poison. Ichigo ducked, the tips grazing his cheek.
Tanjiro responded by hurling his flaming katana like a javelin.
It missed—barely.
But the heat forced the figure to stumble—long enough for Ichigo to land in front of him.
"Game over."
The figure hissed. His face now visible—tattoos of black runes, and glowing violet eyes.
He wasn't just a scout.
He was a dark mage.
He raised a hand—whispers spilling from his mouth in an ancient tongue.
Before the spell could complete, Tanjiro slammed his foot into the mage's chest, launching him into a tree.
Ichigo pinned him with a surge of lightning that held his body frozen in place, twitching violently.
"Who sent you?" Tanjiro demanded.
The mage grinned.
"You're already too late… He's coming."
And then—his body erupted into black fire, burning from the inside out.
Ichigo shielded his face.
Tanjiro stared at the ashes.
"He self-destructed… to protect something."
"No," Ichigo replied. "To delay us."
They both looked toward the north horizon—where storm clouds gathered unnaturally.
"Something far worse is waiting…"
To be continued.....