"The match is over."

The voice of their instructor echoed through the training yard, sharp and final.

"Haruto wins."

Haruto stood still, breathing hard. Sweat clung to his brow, but a grin spread across his face. Across from him, Hinaru had already sheathed his practice blade, eyes cold, unreadable.

The class murmured among themselves. Some cheered, others whispered, but the instructor raised his hand again.

> "Enough. Starting tomorrow, you will be assigned into trios based on your performance. You’ll also be checking the color of your Shūketsu swords. From there… you'll each be chosen by a sensei."

The words hit like thunder.

Yuki blinked beside Haruto, clearly excited.

Hinaru remained still.

> "Group A: Haruto, Yuki, and Hinaru."

Night fell.

On the Academy rooftop, where the stars burned faintly above, Haruto found Hinaru leaning against the rail, staring into the dark.

> "You were holding back today, weren’t you?" Haruto asked.

Hinaru didn’t answer.

> "You weren’t fighting with your full potential," Haruto continued. "Why?"

> "Shut up."

The reply was curt, but not angry. Tired.

Haruto didn’t stop.

> "Tomorrow… we check our sword colors together. You’re strong, Hinaru. I’m sure you’ll get something amazing."

A silence stretched between them. Then—

> "What if I get a weak one?"

It wasn’t fear in Hinaru’s voice. It was something deeper. A scar left unseen.

Haruto smiled.

> "Then we’ll train together and make it strong."

Hinaru’s eyes widened — just slightly. He turned away before the flicker of emotion could be seen.

> "Tch… idiot."

The Next Morning – Ceremony Hall

Students gathered, nervous energy crackling like static. Dozens of young warriors stood in line. The ceremonial platform, lit by hovering red orbs, was guarded by elite instructors.

Suddenly—

THUMP—SKRRCH!

A monstrous roar shattered the moment. A Hanma had broken through the outer gates, limbs twisted, eyes wild, crawling with black veins.

Screams rang out. Some students bolted. Others froze.

And then—

SHHHT—SLASH!

A single clean arc of steel.

The beast dropped dead before it could finish a step inside.

Standing above the split Hanma was a man unlike any of the other instructors.

Tall, broad-shouldered. Dressed in a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black vest unbuttoned at the top, and black pants tucked into boots worn by years of travel. Two swords hung lazily at his hip — both chipped, both legendary.

Thick, messy black hair spilled over his shoulders, barely covering the faint scar running down his left cheek. His eyes were sharp, distant, tired — the kind that had seen too many wars to flinch at one more demon.

He exhaled a long breath, cigarette between his lips. The smoke curled up into the cold morning air.

No words. Just presence.

Even the instructors stood silent.

Haruto’s jaw dropped.

> “Who is that guy…? I want him as my sensei… He’s so damn cool…”

The man said nothing. Just turned his back and walked toward the shadowed edge of the hall — vanishing like a ghost.

---

The Sword Color Ceremony

The first to step forward was Yuki. She was calm, composed, her long hair swaying behind her.

> "Let's make this quick. I know mine won’t disappoint," she said with a smirk.

She gripped her Shūketsu sword. It pulsed.

A brilliant dark blue glow erupted from the blade, the air thick with sea-like pressure.

> "Yuki Hibana — B-Rank Neptune Sword," the announcer declared.

Polite claps followed.

Next in line—Haruto.

He stepped forward.

But before he could draw—

> "Wait."

A voice cut through the hall.

It was Hinaru.

He walked to the front with slow, certain steps.

> "Let me go first."

Gasps echoed through the crowd.

Haruto blinked.

> "Huh? Oh… yeah! Go ahead, dumbass!"

Hinaru unsheathed his blade.

It gleamed—silent—until it ignited.

A furious red blaze burst from it like a rising sun.

The hall fell silent.

> "Wha— That color… Red?!" "That’s impossible—only two people in history…"

Instructors stood up, some dropping their cups. One sensei muttered in disbelief:

> "An S+ Rank… The Sun Sword…"

Haruto clapped wildly.

> "I told you, dumbass! You're strong!"

Hinaru looked away, but something trembled in his chest. Not fear — not shame — but pride.

Then came Haruto’s turn.

He walked up slowly. Gripped the sword. Unsheathed it—

A blinding light exploded from the blade.

But the color was unreadable.

The crowd hushed, unsure. Even the announcer stumbled.

> "I… I don’t understand… What is this?"

Even the senseis stood in stunned silence, watching the strange, undefined color swirl around Haruto’s blade like smoke.

The chapter ends.

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