Pushing against one of the great wooden doors, it opens for me before falling of its hinges completely. There is little to be found here but rubble and ash, but I venture further inside regardless. Kneeling down, a charred black floorboard fractures beneath the weight of my knee, but I pay it no mind. Digging out from the soot a crossguard fashioned into an eyepatch, I recover the curio and tuck it away as a memento of the samurai I fought alongside. This smoldering, burned out ruin is all that remains of the battles that took place here. Though I was witness to a duel between fated rivals, that was not the clash that most captured my attention. You would not expect much of a battle between a blacksmith and a saint, but even so, it is a fight that will remain etched into my memory.
Shimosa has been stable for some time now, but like every singularity before it, the lingering aberrations within demand addressing. We’ve rayshifted here once again for the usual clean up work and I’ve indulged in my bad habit of working alone once more, though I have something of an excuse this time. Our time within the singularity was... unique in ways I couldn’t have predicted. Sengo Muramasa... Apparently I was deemed a worthy catalyst for the old man. Or rather, some other me was. That’s why I’ve broken off from the rest of our group for the remains of this castle, to seek out whatever portion of the blacksmith’s spirit that might still linger here. For a soul so noble, I feel some obligation to put him to rest.
However, it’s seems there’s more to be found here than sentiment.
Willing two swords into existence, I toss them to both sides of myself, cutting through the two malignant spirits flanking me. For a sight of such conflict, specters of the like are to be expected. However, I sense the presence of something far more sinister.
“To survive a blow from the Kusanagi is no mean feat. Your resilience is enviable, saint.”
Defying all logic, the physical form of Amakusa Shirou Tokisada stands before from me once again. Odd as it may be, I can’t help but notice the uncanny resemblance between us. A twist of fate perhaps, though to what end is beyond me.
“I wonder, are you the man we fought? The impossible survivor who wished to defy fate? Or are you the true fallen messiah, come to take your promised vengeance? ...Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter either way.”
The enemy the blacksmith sacrificed himself to defeat using the whole of my magic condensed into a single blade... It’s nothing short of an insult to see him standing once more. I cannot let it go unpunished.
In one fluid motion, I create a copy of his sword in my own hands as I shift into a stance appropriate for such a blade. Hm. I might not be that one-eyed swordsman, but I think this might suit me all the same.
“Come, apocryphal saint. Let us see whose ideals will prove stronger.”
