Honda Tadakatsu, the "Greatest Warrior of the Sengoku Period" under Tokugawa Ieyasu, now stood upon unfamiliar soil. Clad in his iconic deer-horned helmet and wielding the legendary spear Tonbokiri, his dark armor glinted with a cold, harsh sheen under the eerie sky. Several elite Tokugawa samurai followed closely behind, their faces etched with the composure of countless battles, yet unable to hide a flicker of bewilderment at having strayed into an unknown realm.

 

One moment, they had been charging across the battlefield of Sekigahara; the next, the world spun, and an irresistible force tore through them. When they steadied themselves, the familiar battlefield was gone. In its place stood a city of unimaginable grandeur — Inazuma City. The towering Tenshukaku loomed into the clouds, wreathed in ominous purple lightning, its silence heavy with suffocating pressure.

 

“This place… reeks of foul aura,” Tadakatsu rumbled, his voice like clashing metal as he scanned his surroundings. “Our lord’s safety is unknown. We must scout this land and find a way back. Forward!”

 

He stepped forward with unshakable resolve, and the samurai behind him followed without hesitation. The path to the keep was wide yet utterly deserted, save for ghostly blue flames burning on either side, casting light over ornate beams and painted pillars — only to make the scene all the more uncanny.

 

Traps Awaken

 

No sooner had they entered the outer corridor of Tenshukaku than disaster struck.

 

A tiny, almost imperceptible click of mechanisms — one only a veteran warrior could detect.

 

“Fall back!” Tadakatsu shouted.

 

In an instant, he swung Tonbokiri upward in a violent sweep.

 

Thousands of poisoned senbon needles erupted from hidden wall holes, raining down like a storm. The samurai reacted swiftly, parrying with blades or diving aside, but one man moved a fraction too slow. Several needles struck his shoulders and legs; without a sound, his face darkened, and he collapsed dead.

 

“Poisoned projectiles… cowards,” Tadakatsu snarled, fury rising within him. He pressed onward, spear held firm.

 

At the end of the corridor stood a massive vermilion gate. A samurai stepped forth to push it open, but as the door cracked, a thunderous roar came from above.

 

“Above!” another samurai yelled.

 

A gigantic spiked iron barrier crashed downward, ready to crush them all into pulp.

 

“RAAH!”

 

Tadakatsu roared, charging forward instead of retreating. Muscles bulging on his arms, he thrust Tonbokiri upward with all his might. The tip jammed perfectly into the descending gate, letting out a screech of grinding metal. The colossal weight, enough to crush an elephant, was halted single‑handedly by his strength.

 

“Quickly, pass!” he growled, veins bulging on his forehead.

 

The samurai filed swiftly beneath the spear shaft. The moment the last man cleared, Tadakatsu released his grip, rolled away, and the barrier slammed into the ground behind him, shaking the earth.

 

Shadow Ninjas

 

Past the courtyard, they reached a spacious plaza before the main hall. Silence shattered as dozens of figures in purple ninja gear emerged silently from shadows and columns, their kunai glinting.

 

“Form up!” the samurai captain ordered. The remaining five warriors backed into a tight circle, facing foes many times their number.

 

The ninjas attacked wordlessly, moving like phantoms. Kunai clashed against swords in a rapid staccato. Agile and unpredictable, they tossed smoke bombs to blind the samurai and used substitution jutsu to confuse them. Though brave, the Tokugawa warriors struggled against such unorthodox tactics. Two more fell in the chaos, stabbed in vital spots by ninja blades.

 

Tadakatsu’s eyes blazed. “Insolent curs! Dare you raise your hands against me?”

 

He charged like a tiger into a flock of sheep, Tonbokiri spinning into a black cyclone. Where the spear struck, ninja weapons snapped like dry branches. The tip carved eerie arcs, each thrust spraying blood. His inhuman strength sent several ninjas flying with a single sweep. Tricks and stealth meant little against his overwhelming power and speed.

 

Within moments, few ninjas remained standing. Sensing defeat, the survivors fled back into the shadows and vanished.

 

The Green Medic

 

Tadakatsu took a deep breath to calm his surging blood, then led his last three men into the main hall of Tenshukaku.

 

Inside, the air grew dim, lit only by faint lightning filtering through high windows. A faint herbal scent lingered. From the depths of the hall, a slender figure stepped forward. She wore a masked headdress, her eyes calm and sharp, dressed in green‑toned ninja attire, with a medicine pouch and an Electro Vision at her waist.

 

“Intruders, halt,” Kuki Shinobu said evenly, yet with unyielding resolve. “This is the domain of the Shogun. No sacrilege shall be tolerated.”

 

“We seek no sacrilege — only a path home,” Tadakatsu replied, spear planted. “Stand in my way, and you become my enemy.”

 

Shinobu said no more. Her hands formed a seal, and crackling Electro sparked at her fingertips.

 

“Electro Prison: Binding Formation!”

 

In an instant, chains of lightning erupted from the ground, living serpents coiling toward Tadakatsu and his men. One samurai failed to dodge; a chain wrapped around his ankle, and he screamed, convulsing as electricity seared his body.

 

Tadakatsu whirled Tonbokiri, its gusts shattering the incoming chains. Yet the chains seemed endless, re-forming in lightning even after being destroyed. Worse, a dizzying, strange aroma spread through the air — a toxic mist of paralytic herbs mixed with Electro energy, crafted by Shinobu.

 

The two remaining samurai breathed in the mist, their movements visibly slowing. They were quickly bound by chains and rendered helpless.

 

“Poison and sorcery… this is not the way of the warrior!” Tadakatsu roared, though he too felt a faint numbness creep into his limbs. He held his breath, channeling his immense fighting spirit to resist the venom.

 

Shinobu drifted like a ghost, summoning lightning chains to harass him and hurling poisoned shuriken whenever she saw an opening. Her style was not direct confrontation, but control and attrition — maddeningly effective.

 

Tadakatsu knew he could not stall. Ignoring several chains that grazed him, he took one thunderous step forward, cracking the stone floor. Tonbokiri lunged like a venomous dragon, piercing straight for Shinobu’s chest with unstoppable force.

 

The strike was too fast, too brutal. Shinobu barely dodged, yet the spear still tore through her shoulder cloth, drawing blood. She grunted and retreated, her chain attacks faltering.

 

Tadakatsu pressed his advantage, spinning his spear from a thrust into a heavy sweep. The gale of its force scattered some of the mist. Shinobu was forced back again and again. Her techniques were refined, but against the desperate, brutal charge of a battlefield titan like Tadakatsu, she was outmatched. At last, the shaft of Tonbokiri slammed into her back, sending her stumbling forward, collapsing to the ground, unable to rise for the moment.

 

The Swift Detective

 

Before Tadakatsu could catch his breath, a playful yet piercing voice called from high atop a pillar.

 

“My my, quite the impressive strength. Even Shinobu couldn’t hold you back?”

 

A young man in a detective’s hat leaped down nimbly — Shikanoin Heizou. He studied Tadakatsu with amused curiosity, as if examining a fascinating case.

 

“Your power is immense, your strikes bold and unrefined… pure battlefield martial arts. But when you move, you seem unusually wary of vibrations in the ground,” Heizou muttered, stroking his chin, his eyes glittering with deduction. “It seems those earlier traps left you on edge.”

 

Tadakatsu tensed. The boy’s insight was terrifyingly sharp.

 

“Then how about this?” Heizou smiled, his Anemo Vision flaring to life.

“Wind Guardian: Swirling Cyclone!”

 

He did not attack directly. Instead, he pushed his palms forward, summoning two powerful whirlwinds inside the hall. The winds did not harm, but stirred up dust, debris, and even traces of Shinobu’s lingering poison powder, forming two murky tornadoes that closed in on Tadakatsu from both sides. Worse, the swirling winds disrupted the air, crippling Tadakatsu’s hearing and awareness, making it nearly impossible to judge incoming attacks.

 

At the same time, Heizou merged with the wind, becoming a blur. Using agile martial arts and Anemo acceleration, he circled Tadakatsu like a storm, darting into gaps in the spear’s guard to deliver quick, sharp strikes. His blows were not heavy, but targeted joints and pressure points — meant to unbalance and distract, not overpower.

 

Tadakatsu possessed titanic strength, yet felt trapped in a sticky whirlpool. Every swing of his spear hit empty air, his judgment clouded, his power wasted. Heizou was like a crafty hunter, provoking his anger with words and movements, hunting for a single flaw.

 

“Angry? Anxious? Frustrated that your comrades have fallen, that you’re trapped here?” Heizou’s voice echoed from all directions. “Emotions like these only cloud your judgment, you know.”

 

Tadakatsu roared repeatedly, his spearwork growing wilder — and thus, more vulnerable.

 

“Found it!”

 

Heizou’s eyes flashed. He seized the moment when Tadakatsu’s thrust ended and his strength lulled, darting in like the wind and slamming an Anemo-charged palm into Tadakatsu’s abdomen.

 

Yet he underestimated the warrior’s battle instinct. At the instant the strike landed, Tadakatsu twisted violently, taking the blow on his shoulder pauldron — and his left hand shot out like an iron clamp, seizing Heizou’s wrist.

 

“What?!” Heizou gasped, struggling to break free, but the grip was unbreakable.

 

“Boy, your wits are impressive,” Tadakatsu breathed, yet his tone remained steady. “But on the battlefield… sometimes, brute force trumps all trickery.”

 

With that, he spun Tonbokiri and slammed the shaft hard into Heizou’s side. The tremendous force sent the young detective flying, crashing into a distant pillar, sliding to the ground, and falling unconscious.

 

The whirlwinds in the hall slowly died down.

 

Tadakatsu leaned on his spear, breathing heavily. The successive battles, especially the mental and physical clash with Heizou, had drained him greatly. Shinobu’s poison mist still left him slightly dizzy. He glanced at the fallen Kuki Shinobu and Shikanoin Heizou, then at his own captured or slain men.

 

He took a deep breath and straightened his towering frame. His gaze fell upon the stairway deep within the hall, leading upward. Lightning gathered there, and a pressure that chilled the soul emanated faintly.

 

He knew the true challenge had only just begun.

 

Gripping Tonbokiri tightly, he stepped forward alone, resolute, toward the top of Tenshukaku — toward the throne of lightning.