Echoes of the Past and Retribution

  The ancient stone chamber was quiet except for the soft hiss of incense burning in the corners. Three days had passed since the mission in Tokyo, and Hiro found himself drawn repeatedly to this meditation room deep within the Khaos Brigade's mountain fortress. The weight of Malthus's final words pressed heavily on his mind.

  "The Seraphs... they fear what you carry. What you might become."

  Sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor, Hiro closed his eyes and reached out to the presence that had been unusually silent since their return.

  "Orochi," he said aloud. "I need answers."

  The dragon's response came slowly, den with an ancient weariness Hiro had never heard before.

  "What would you know, vessel?"

  "Everything. Why do the Seraphs fear you? What happened in the past that made them willing to murder innocent families to prevent your return?"

  A long silence stretched between them. When Orochi finally spoke, his voice carried the weight of millennia.

  "You wish to understand the sins of the past. Very well. But know that some knowledge comes with a price."

  The world around Hiro faded as Orochi's memories flooded through him. He saw fshes of an ancient time when dragons ruled the skies and gods walked the earth. He witnessed great battles between forces of creation and destruction, where his own power had been a determining factor.

  "I was not always as I am now," Orochi began. "In the beginning, I was creation and destruction in perfect bance. The eight heads represented not chaos, but the fundamental forces of existence itself. But the gods... they feared what they could not control."

  Hiro saw it then—a great war in the heavens. Four beings of incredible radiance, their forms bzing with holy light, stood arrayed against a massive serpentine dragon. The Seraphs: Uriel with his fmes of judgment, Raphael with his healing turned to poison, Raguel with his divine justice, and Gabriel with her announcements of doom.

  "They came with their pronouncements of divine will," Orochi continued, his voice growing darker. "Ciming that my existence upset the natural order. That my power over life and death made me an abomination that had to be contained."

  The vision showed the battle—reality itself seeming to crack under the force of their conflict. Mountains were reduced to ash, seas boiled away, and the very fabric of space warped around their cshing energies.

  "They could not destroy me. My nature was too fundamental, too deeply woven into the world's foundation. So they chose a different path—containment through human vessels."

  "The priest families," Hiro whispered, understanding flooding through him.

  "Yes. They created a system where my power would be bound to mortal souls, limiting my influence. Generation after generation of your bloodline served as my prison wardens, taught to keep me dormant, never allowing my full potential to manifest."

  The vision shifted, showing him glimpses of other families throughout history. Men and women bearing marks simir to his own, living in hidden temples, passing down ancient knowledge. And one by one, Hiro watched them fall—to pgue, to war, to seemingly random tragedies that were anything but random.

  "For centuries, they picked us off. When a family grew too numerous, when a vessel showed too much promise, when the knowledge seemed likely to spread—they acted. Always with pusible deniability, always with other culprits to bme."

  Hiro's blood ran cold as the full scope of the conspiracy became clear. "My family wasn't the first."

  "Nor will you be the st, if they have their way. You are perhaps the most powerful vessel born in a millennium, Hiro. The first to awaken multiple aspects of my true nature. They will not allow you to reach your full potential if they can prevent it."

  The meditation chamber reformed around Hiro as the visions faded. He found his hands clenched into fists, his body trembling with rage at the systematic genocide he had just witnessed.

  "How many?" he asked quietly.

  "Hundreds of families. Thousands of individuals. All to keep me bound, to prevent the return of the old powers."

  Hiro stood abruptly, pacing the small chamber like a caged predator. Everything made more sense now—the precision of the attack on his family, the way all evidence had been destroyed, the ease with which the Fallen Angels had been bmed. It was a pattern refined over centuries of practice.

  "We need to find records," he said decisively. "Proof of what they've done."

  "And what will you do with such proof? Who would believe you? Who would act against the highest echelons of Heaven itself?"

  Before Hiro could answer, the chamber door burst open. Kuroka stood in the doorway, her usually pyful expression repced by urgent concern.

  "Hiro, you need to come now," she said breathlessly. "We're under attack."

  The main command center of the mountain fortress was chaos when Hiro arrived. Magical dispys showed the outer perimeter, where explosions of holy light illuminated the pre-dawn darkness. Vali stood at the center of it all, his expression grim as he received reports from various sources.

  "How many?" Arthur asked, Caliburn already in hand.

  "At least fifty, possibly more," Bikou replied, his characteristic grin repced by serious focus. "All Fallen Angels, led by someone powerful. Really powerful."

  Le Fay looked up from a scrying crystal, her face pale. "They've broken through the outer barriers. At this rate, they'll reach the inner compound within the hour."

  "Any idea what triggered this?" Vali asked, though his eyes found Hiro as he spoke.

  "One of ours killed Malthus three days ago," Kuroka said bluntly. "Word's gotten back to the Grigori. They're not happy."

  "Understatement of the century," Bikou muttered, spinning his staff between his hands. "From what I can see, they've brought enough firepower to level this whole mountain."

  Hiro moved to the tactical dispy, studying the approaching forces. The attack pattern was methodical, professional—not a raid for information, but an extermination mission.

  "They're not here to capture," he observed. "They want everyone dead."

  "Including their new public enemy number one," Vali said, his gaze sharp on Hiro. "Congratutions. You've officially graduated from nuisance to threat."

  "Sir!" A communication technician called out. "We're receiving a broadcast transmission from the attacking force."

  "Put it through," Vali ordered.

  The central screen flickered, then resolved into an image that made Hiro's blood run cold. A tall Fallen Angel in military dress stood at the center of the frame, his dark hair streaked with silver, his eyes the same cold gray as Malthus had possessed. But where Malthus had been merely dangerous, this being radiated power that made the air itself seem heavier.

  "Baraqiel," Vali identified quietly.

  "Vali Lucifer," the Fallen Angel leader spoke, his voice carrying across the chamber with absolute authority. "You harbor a murderer in your midst. Surrender the one calling himself Hiro, and the rest of your people may live."

  "Not happening," Vali replied to the screen, though Baraqiel couldn't hear him.

  Baraqiel continued speaking as if he'd anticipated the response. "The boy killed one of my most trusted operatives. This transgression demands blood for blood. You have one hour to produce him, or we will take this fortress apart stone by stone."

  The transmission cut off, leaving the command center in tense silence.

  "Well," Arthur said dryly, "at least we know where we stand."

  "They've surrounded the entire mountain," Le Fay reported, consulting multiple divination spells at once. "Teleportation is blocked. They came prepared."

  Hiro stepped forward, his expression resolute. "I'll go to them."

  "Like hell you will," Kuroka's voice was sharp with protectiveness. "You think they'll just let you walk away after this? This is an execution squad, not a diplomatic mission."

  "She's right," Vali agreed. "Besides, running now would set a poor precedent. The Khaos Brigade doesn't abandon its own."

  "Even when that 'own' brings an army to your door?" Hiro asked.

  "Especially then," Vali replied with a fierce smile. "Some battles choose us, Hiro. This is one of them."

  Bikou ughed, his usual humor returning. "Besides, we've been getting fat and zy sitting around this mountain. A good fight will do us good."

  "The defensive positions are manned," Arthur reported, checking his communication device. "All non-combat personnel are secured in the deep shelters."

  A new voice cut through the discussion—ancient, feminine, and carrying absolute authority.

  "The mountain will not fall today."

  Everyone turned to see Ophis entering the command center, her small form somehow dominating the space despite its size. Her dark eyes held a cold fury that made even Vali step back slightly.

  "Ophis," Vali acknowledged with a respectful nod. "I wasn't aware you were taking a personal interest."

  "The vessel of Yamata no Orochi is under my protection," she stated simply. "The Fallen Angels have forgotten their pce."

  Before anyone could respond, arms began bring throughout the facility. The tactical dispy showed enemy forces breaching the middle perimeter, their advance accelerating.

  "They're making their move," Le Fay announced. "Multiple breach points across sections seven through twelve."

  "Time for talk is over," Vali decided, power beginning to emanate from him as he prepared for battle. "Everyone to your positions. Let's show these Fallen Angels what the Khaos Brigade is capable of."

  As the others filed out toward their assigned defensive zones, Kuroka caught Hiro's arm.

  "Stay close to me out there," she said, her amber eyes intense. "I mean it. These aren't stray devils or isoted operatives. This is war."

  Hiro nodded, then drew the Shadow Wolf from its sheath. The familiar weight was comforting in his grip, but he knew it wouldn't be enough against the forces arrayed against them.

  "Now would be an excellent time to expand your arsenal," Orochi suggested. "The enemy expects Raijin, Shingan, and Kaen. Give them something unexpected."

  "Which one?" Hiro asked mentally.

  "Reach for necessity, vessel. The bde will choose itself."

  The first explosions echoed through the mountain as Hiro and Kuroka made their way to the eastern defensive position. The ancient stone walls shook with each impact, dust raining down from the ceiling.

  "Contact!" someone shouted over the communication network. "Eastern approach, sector nine! They're through the outer wall!"

  Hiro and Kuroka emerged onto a wide balcony overlooking the mountainside just as the first wave of Fallen Angels crested the rocky outcrop below. Light spears flew through the air in deadly arcs, answered by magical attacks from the Khaos Brigade defenders.

  "There," Kuroka pointed to a group of bck-winged figures advancing up a narrow path. "They're trying to fnk the main position."

  Hiro assessed the tactical situation quickly. The enemy was using the terrain expertly, their aerial mobility giving them significant advantages. Traditional defensive positions were being bypassed or overwhelmed.

  "We need to take the fight to them," he decided. "Break their formation before they can consolidate."

  A light spear whistled past his ear, close enough that he felt the heat of its passing. Three Fallen Angels had spotted their position and were advancing rapidly, their wings carrying them up the cliff face with supernatural grace.

  Hiro stepped forward, manifesting Raijin in his right hand. The electric blue bde crackled with energy as he prepared to engage.

  The first attacker dove at him from above, a glowing spear of light forming in his hands. Hiro sidestepped the strike and countered with Ikkitōsen, the perfect draw-and-ssh that had become his signature move. The Fallen Angel's eyes widened in surprise at the speed of the attack, but he managed to block with his light construct at the st second.

  "Human?!" the angel snarled in disbelief. "What is a mere mortal doing in—"

  His words cut off as Kuroka appeared behind him in a swirl of shadows, her cws raking across his wings. The angel screamed and plummeted toward the rocks below.

  The second angel had seen enough. "The dragon vessel!" he shouted to his companions. "Signal Command! We've found the target!"

  Before he could raise his voice further, Hiro was in motion. He manifested Shingan in his left hand, the time-distorting bde shimmering with otherworldly energy. As the angel moved to create a signaling fre, Hiro triggered Shingan's power.

  Time slowed around the bde, the angel's movements becoming sluggish and predictable. Hiro stepped into his guard and drove Raijin through his chest, lightning coursing through the angel's body. He colpsed without another sound.

  The third angel, seeing his companions fall, tried to retreat. But Kuroka's portal magic was faster, opening a gateway that deposited her directly in his flight path. Her kick sent him tumbling through the air before he crashed into the mountainside.

  "Nice work," she purred, nding gracefully beside Hiro. "But that was just the advance guard. The real fight's coming."

  She was right. Even as the echoes of the brief skirmish faded, rger groups of Fallen Angels were ascending the mountain. And at their head flew a figure that made Hiro's blood run cold.

  Baraqiel himself had taken to the battlefield, his ten bck wings spread wide as he surveyed the combat zones. Lightning—not the electric blue of Raijin, but the raw, golden power of Heaven's wrath—danced between his fingers as he gestured to his forces.

  "There," Baraqiel's voice carried across the battlefield despite the distance. "I can sense the dragon's presence. Bring me the vessel, and this ends."

  "He is powerful," Orochi warned. "Not merely in raw strength, but in technique and experience. Be careful, vessel."

  "I know," Hiro replied silently. This wasn't Malthus, a mid-level operative acting on orders. This was one of the leaders of the Grigori, a being who had walked the earth for millennia and commanded the loyalty of countless Fallen Angels.

  And he was coming directly for them.

  "Hiro," Kuroka said quietly, sensing his tension. "We don't have to face him. We can fall back, regroup with the others—"

  "No." Hiro's voice was firm. "This was always going to happen. Malthus was just the beginning."

  He felt the familiar warmth of Le Fay's stabilizer bracelet against his wrist as he reached deeper into himself than he ever had before. Beyond Raijin, beyond Shingan and Kaen, to something that called to him in this moment of desperate need.

  "Yes," Orochi whispered with satisfaction. "Mugetsu. The bde that cuts more than flesh and bone."

  A new weight materialized in Hiro's hand as the fourth aspect of the Eightfold Edge answered his call. Where the other bdes had distinct characteristics—lightning, time, fire—this one seemed to absorb light itself. Its edge was so dark it hurt to look at directly, and the air around it seemed to whisper with promises of endings.

  "Four bdes," Kuroka breathed in amazement. "Hiro, that's incredible."

  "Save the congratutions," he replied, watching Baraqiel's approach. "We're about to find out if it's enough."

  Baraqiel nded on the balcony with thunder reverberating from the impact point. Up close, his presence was even more overwhelming—power that had been refined over eons of existence, authority that had commanded armies of Heaven and Hell.

  "So," he said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute judgment. "You are the one who killed Malthus."

  "I am," Hiro confirmed, not backing down despite the vast difference in their power levels. "And you're the one who ordered the murder of my family."

  Something flickered in Baraqiel's eyes—surprise, perhaps even regret. "Your family. The temple guardians." He nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember that operation. Necessary, but regrettable."

  "Regrettable?" Hiro's voice was deadly quiet. All four bdes manifested around him now—Raijin crackling with electricity, Shingan shimmering out of phase, Kaen wreathed in dark fmes, and Mugetsu drinking in the light itself. "My parents, my infant brother, burned alive. You call that regrettable?"

  "I call it the price of maintaining order," Baraqiel replied, his own power beginning to manifest. Golden lightning danced around his form, and his wings spread wide. "Your family died so that the world might remain stable. So that ancient powers would remain contained."

  "Ancient powers like Orochi?"

  "Ancient powers like the chaos your dragon represents." Baraqiel's expression hardened. "Powers that the Seraphs have decreed must never again run free. I follow their will, as I have for three thousand years."

  "Then you'll die for their will," Hiro said simply.

  The battle erupted with explosive violence. Baraqiel moved first, his golden lightning shing out in web-like patterns that turned the air itself into a weapon. Hiro responded by weaving between the attacks, his four bdes working in perfect coordination.

  Raijin met Baraqiel's lightning head-on, blue and gold energies crackling where they collided. Shingan's time distortion allowed Hiro to slip through gaps in the Fallen Angel's assault that shouldn't have existed. Kaen's dark fmes provided cover and concealment, while Mugetsu struck at things beyond the physical—cutting through Baraqiel's magical constructs as if they were paper.

  Kuroka darted in and out of the battle, her portal magic allowing her to strike from unexpected angles. But even her considerable skill was stretched to its limits against an opponent of Baraqiel's caliber.

  "You fight well for mortals," Baraqiel acknowledged, batting aside a strike from Mugetsu with a construct of pure lightning. "But this ends now."

  His power exploded outward in a nova of golden light and thunder. Hiro felt himself thrown backward, his four bdes dissipating as he struggled to maintain consciousness. Kuroka's scream cut through the ringing in his ears.

  When his vision cleared, Hiro found himself pinned against the stone wall by Baraqiel's power, unable to move. The Fallen Angel stood over him, golden lightning pying around his fingertips.

  "You have caused enough trouble, vessel," Baraqiel said. "The Seraphs' will be done."

  He raised his hand for the killing blow—and froze.

  "That will be quite enough."

  Ophis had appeared on the balcony, her small form radiating power that made Baraqiel's impressive dispy seem like a candle compared to the sun. The very air around her seemed to bend and warp under the weight of her presence.

  "Dragon God," Baraqiel said, his voice carefully neutral. "This does not concern you."

  "It concerns me greatly." Ophis stepped forward, and reality itself seemed to step aside to accommodate her movement. "The vessel is under my protection. As is this pce. You will leave. Now."

  For a long moment, the two ancient powers stared at each other. Around them, the battle gradually died down as fighters on both sides became aware of the confrontation.

  Finally, Baraqiel stepped back. "This is not over," he said, though it was unclear if he was addressing Ophis or Hiro. "The Seraphs will not be denied indefinitely."

  "Perhaps not," Ophis agreed. "But they will be denied today."

  Baraqiel's wings spread wide as he prepared to depart. But before he left, he looked down at Hiro one st time.

  "You want to know the truth, vessel? About why your family really died?" His smile was cold and terrible. "Ask yourself why, of all the guardian families, yours was the only one to produce a vessel capable of manifesting multiple aspects. Ask yourself what made you special enough to catch their attention."

  With that cryptic statement, he unched himself into the sky. One by one, the other Fallen Angels withdrew, their bck wings disappearing into the pre-dawn darkness.

  In the aftermath, as the Khaos Brigade tended to their wounded and secured their positions, Hiro sat on the edge of the balcony, staring out at the mountain peaks. Baraqiel's final words echoed in his mind, adding new questions to the mysteries surrounding his family's death.

  Kuroka settled beside him, her hand finding his. "You did well out there," she said quietly. "Four bdes at once. I've never seen anything like it."

  "It wasn't enough," he replied. "If Ophis hadn't intervened..."

  "But she did. And you fought a leader of the Grigori to a standstill. That's not nothing."

  Hiro nodded absently, his mind still processing everything that had happened. The vision of the Seraphs, the systematic elimination of the guardian families, Baraqiel's final revetion—it was all connected somehow, but the pattern remained frustratingly unclear.

  "He spoke truth at the end," Orochi said quietly in his mind. "Your family was different. Special in ways that even I do not fully understand."

  "How so?"

  "That remains to be discovered. But know this, vessel—what happened today was not an ending, but a beginning. The Seraphs will not ignore what you have become. The next test will be greater still."

  As the sun rose over the mountain fortress, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Hiro felt the weight of destiny settling upon his shoulders. He had survived his first major confrontation with the forces responsible for his family's death, but it was clear this was only the opening move in a much rger game.

  Somewhere in the highest reaches of Heaven, powers that had shaped the world for millennia were taking notice of a young man with an ancient dragon sealed within him. And they were not pleased.

  The hunt for justice would continue. But now Hiro understood the true scope of what he faced—not just individual revenge, but a war against the very foundations of divine order itself.

  He was ready for that war. The only question was whether the world would survive it.