As the Ukiyo legions crashed against the lightning,

eight thousand Tokugawa Akazonae swept the battlefield like wildfire. Arataki Itto roared wildly, swinging his club, and fell in battle.

Kamisato Ayato’s sword dance resembled a white heron with broken wings; Gorou nocked his bow, his tail feathers stained with blood.

Honda Tadakatsu swung Tonbogiri, cleaving through thunder and lightning. The Raiden Shogun was defeated and fled to the Tenshukaku.

Amidst gunpowder smoke, we trod upon the wreckage of thunder and welcomed a new order upon the mortal realm…

 

 

 

The plains of early spring still bore the chill of last winter’s bitter cold. The half-frozen soil pressed hard against the soles of feet. Wind swept across the wilderness, lifting fine ice dust, and stirred the golden banner emblazoned with the character Iya before the Tokugawa formation. Eight thousand armored warriors stood silent as iron, their spears and halberds a dense forest glinting coldly in the faint sunlight.

 

At the very front of the ranks, Tokugawa Ieyasu sat atop his warhorse. The deep blue lacquer on his domaru armor was calm as water. His gaze fixed steadily on the distant formation shrouded in a strange thundercloud, his face as still as an ancient well, without ripple or stir.

 

To his left stood Honda Tadakatsu, his world-famous spear Tonbogiri slanting toward the ground, its three-inch blade glowing cyan. Clad in full o-yoroi armor, beneath his antler-adorned kabuto, his sharp eyes pierced like a hawk, locked firmly on the unsettling purple figure atop the distant Tenshukaku.

 

To his right was Ii Naomasa, encased in his Red Demon armor, man and steed both blazing crimson, like an inferno ready to erupt at any moment. Further back, the veteran Torii Mototaha gripped his sword hilt, veins bulging on the back of his hand, steady as a mountain, guarding the main formation.

 

In the distance, the Inazuman army presented a bizarre blend of elegance and ferocity. Clearly outnumbered at just over six thousand soldiers, the air at its core twisted faintly, and purple arcs of electricity flickered into existence with faint crackles.

 

The Raiden Shogun, supreme ruler of Inazuma, stood silently before her troops. Wispy thunder coiled around her, her long purple hair drifting unnaturally without wind, her gaze indifferent as a god looking down upon mortal beings.

 

To her left was the White Heron Princess, Kamisato Ayaka. Her blue-and-white armor was graceful yet deadly, her fan lightly closed, her katana Mistsplitter glinting coldly. An aura of freezing ice seemed to condense around her.

 

To her right, Arataki Itto laughed boisterously, bare-chested, his oni horns menacing, his massive Hakushin Ring slung over his shoulder. Fearless before the coming battle, he burned with eagerness to fight.

 

On the flank of the formation, General Gorou’s expression was grave. His dog ears stood alert, his bow half-drawn, the fletchings on his arrows trembling in the wind. Behind him, soldiers from Watatsumi Island stared with a mix of resolve and unease.

 

War drums thundered without warning.

 

Not the deep, muffled cowhide drums of the Tokugawa, but a strange, clear, electric-toned drumbeat from the Inazuman lines. Then the Tokugawa answered with heavy, earth-shaking drums, one after another, until the entire ground trembled.

 

“Advance!”

 

Tokugawa Ieyasu’s voice was not loud, yet carried unshakable will, filtering through his men-yoroi mask.

 

The order became a tide. Ii Naomasa’s Akazonae cavalry moved first, like a long-suppressed volcano erupting. The crimson tide became a scorching iron stream, hooves pounding the frozen earth with thunderous roars, piercing straight into the heart of the Inazuman formation.

 

Close behind, Tokugawa ashigaru let out earth-shaking roars, leveling spears and advancing in heavy steps, a moving forest of steel pressing forward as one. Torii Mototaha led his troops to hold the center firm, unyielding as a reef.

 

Battle erupted into white heat the moment lines met. Steel clashed against steel, flesh against flesh. The Akazonae cavalry tore through the Inazuman frontline in an instant. Ii Naomasa’s vermilion spear struck like a venomous dragon, each flash spraying blood. Wherever he passed, men and horses fell. That crimson became the most glaring mark of death on the battlefield.

 

Arataki Itto laughed wildly. Facing the surging cavalry, he did not retreat—he charged forward.

 

“Hahahaha! Come on! I’ll smash you all to pieces!”

 

He roared, swinging his massive club with mountain-splitting force. One Akazonae soldier was sent flying with horse and all, the sound of shattering bones clear as day. He stood like an unbreakable boulder, unleashing the full power of his oni bloodline. Each swing cleared a small area; Tokugawa soldiers fell before him like grass.

 

Kamisato Ayaka moved like a flitting butterfly, a white heron over snow, drifting unpredictably through the fray.

 

“Kamisato Art: Soumetsu!”

 

A clear cry rang out. She flicked her fan open, and bitter cold erupted in a fan-shaped wave of piercing ice spikes. Charging Tokugawa ashigaru froze instantly, then shattered into ice shards under subsequent attacks. Her katana flashed like silk, each strike precise and elegant, taking a life. On the blood-soaked battlefield, she danced a dance of death.

 

On the flank, Gorou’s arrows flew true, one after another.

 

“Brothers, hold the line! For the glory of Watatsumi Island!”

 

He shouted, never missing a shot, targeting samurai captains and commanders to steady his crumbling lines. His arrows carried faint Hydro energy, piercing deeply. Time and again, Tokugawa warriors fell.

 

Yet the sheer numerical disadvantage, paired with the iron discipline and coordination forged through countless battles by the Tokugawa, slowly turned the tide.

 

Akazonae cavalry under Ii Naomasa weaved and split the Inazuman formation into fragments. Ashigaru pressed forward fearlessly, draining Itto’s stamina with their lives, hemming Ayaka in with dense spears.

 

Itto’s wild laughter grew ragged. Wounds covered his body—shallow, but bleeding heavily, his movements slowing. As he smashed aside two ashigaru, his strength spent for a moment, three vermilion spears struck from different angles like vipers: elite Akazonae under Ii Naomasa himself.

 

Pfft.

 

One pierced his shoulder. Another tore a chunk of flesh from his side. The fatal strike came from Ii Naomasa, stabbing straight through his back, the bloodied tip bursting from his chest.

 

Itto’s massive frame froze. He looked down in disbelief at the spear protruding from his chest, opened his mouth to speak, yet only coughed up scalding blood. His wild, unruly gaze dimmed rapidly. Finally, with a heavy thud, he and his great club collapsed onto the soil stained red with his blood.

 

At almost the same moment, Kamisato Ayaka also fell into despair. Her Soumetsu was powerful but draining. Continuous use left her breathless, sweat beading on her forehead. The Tokugawa circle closed in, spears stabbing from all sides.

 

She parried left, shattered reflected, enchanted ice spikes from the right, but could not fully evade a samurai’s ambush from behind. She sliced off his arm at the shoulder with Mistsplitter, yet another spear sank into her waist and abdomen.

 

A pained grunt escaped her. Her movements locked up. More spears pierced her graceful body. She fell like a heron with broken wings, her ice-blue eyes reflecting the gray sky until all light faded.

 

Gorou’s eyes bloodshot. Watching his allies fall one by one, he let out a grief-stricken roar, loosing his last arrows, felling several charging enemies. But in the next moment, multiple spears stabbed from the side, pinning him to the ground. He struggled to speak, but blood choked his throat. His dog ears drooped weakly at last, the earth beneath him soaked in warm liquid.

 

With Inazuma’s three great generals dead, the already faltering front completely collapsed. Leaderless, surviving soldiers dissolved like an avalanche under methodical Tokugawa slaughter.

 

Just as victory seemed certain, a sudden upheaval erupted at the center of the battlefield, where thunder gathered thickest.

 

The Raiden Shogun, who had stood watching in silence, finally moved.

 

She raised her hand slowly. Thunderclouds in the sky plummeted downward, violent purple lightning serpents writhing madly within.

 

“Insolent fools… kneel before the might of thunder.”

 

Her voice held no emotion, like a divine edict.

 

A terrifying thunder spear, thick as a child’s arm, coalesced in her grasp, radiating annihilation, ready to hurl into the densest mass of Tokugawa troops.

 

But one figure moved faster.

 

“Your opponent is me!”

 

A thunderous shout. Honda Tadakatsu struck. His steed reared, neighing loudly, then burst forward like a black lightning bolt, charging straight for the Raiden Shogun.

 

His spear Tonbogiri seemed to come alive. The tip hummed with a dragon-like cry, intricate patterns glowing pale blue-white as he poured his entire martial will into the weapon.

 

The Raiden Shogun’s gaze shifted. Her thunder spear changed course, screaming through the air straight at Honda Tadakatsu.

 

Against this divine strike, Honda did not flinch. Under his antler kabuto, his eyes blazed. He roared, channeling all his strength into his arms, swinging Tonbogiri upward in a raw, unadorned slash.

 

“Break!”

 

Spear tip met thunder spear.

 

No earth-shattering explosion—only a teeth-gritting, ear-piercing screech as extreme energy was violently torn apart. The raging thunder spear was split cleanly in two by Tonbogiri. Pale blue-white light clashed and vanished against purple lightning, scattered arcs electrocuting nearby ashigaru until they charred and fell.

 

Honda’s horse whinnied, hooves sinking half a foot into the ground, but he himself did not budge. Only a wisp of fading purple electricity crackled faintly around Tonbogiri’s tip.

 

For the first time, a tiny flicker crossed the Raiden Shogun’s eternally indifferent face, like a stone rippling a still lake. She could barely comprehend how a mortal could directly shatter a fragment of her Musou no Hitotachi.

 

In that instant of hesitation, Honda Tadakatsu’s assault erupted like a storm. He charged forward, Tonbogiri a blur of strikes, each aimed at vital points, faster than the eye could follow, only the shrill sound of cutting air unbroken.

 

His spearwork was not flashy—it was a killing art forged through thousands of battles, stripped to the bone: precise, ruthless, efficient.

 

The Raiden Shogun blocked with Mistsplitter Reforged, sword and spear clashing in a continuous storm of metallic sparks and lightning. Her divine swordsmanship carried the law of thunder, each strike shaking the soul. Yet Honda’s spear bore an indomitable martial will, piercing through her lightning defenses time and again, forcing her onto the back foot.

 

No one could approach their duel. The ground was torn into deep trenches by stray energy and lightning, scorch marks everywhere. Tokugawa soldiers could only watch from afar, awestruck and reverent before this battle between man and god.

 

Dozens of passes passed in a flash. Honda Tadakatsu grew fiercer, his momentum soaring. The Raiden Shogun’s movements, however, showed an almost imperceptible lag. Was her current vessel not at full power? Or had this mortal’s unbreakable will and skill touched the boundary of certain laws?

 

At last, in the split second of thunder and spear clashing, Honda Tadakatsu seized a one-in-a-billion opening.

 

Tonbogiri pierced the lightning barrier at an impossible angle, stabbing not at heart or throat, but at her right wrist holding the sword.

 

Slice.

 

The tip grazed flesh, a thin red line appearing. A few drops of purple blood, holding terrifying energy, scattered into the air and vaporized instantly. Mistsplitter Reforged nearly slipped from her grasp.

 

The Raiden Shogun shuddered violently, her surrounding lightning flickering in disarray. She stared deep at Honda Tadakatsu, her gaze no longer merely indifferent, but mixed with shock… and something inexplicably complex.

 

She did not attack again. Her form blurred in a burst of dense lightning, reappearing dozens of yards away. In another flash, she became a purple bolt of lightning, streaking toward the towering Tenshukaku in the distance, vanishing into its depths in an instant.

 

A brief silence fell over the battlefield.

 

Then deafening cheers erupted from the Tokugawa ranks, soaring to the heavens. Soldiers raised their weapons, shouting wildly, celebrating an impossible victory. They had defeated Inazuma’s army, even forced their godlike Shogun to retreat.

 

Honda Tadakatsu halted his horse, slamming Tonbogiri heavily into the ground. He breathed slightly, his gaze beneath the antler kabuto still sharp, fixed on the direction the Raiden Shogun had fled, silent for a long while.

 

Escorted by Torii Mototaha, Tokugawa Ieyasu slowly advanced to the frontline. He surveyed the blood-soaked battlefield, the quieted Inazuman remnants, and finally fixed his eyes on Tenshukaku. Thunderclouds still lingered above it, low and oppressive, as if gathering for an even fiercer storm.

 

Wind blew, carrying gunpowder and blood, stirring his graying hair. His face held no triumph, only deep calm.

 

This battle was won.

 

But all knew: the war against a “god” had only just begun.

 

A new mortal order would be forged only through more blood and sacrifice.