He Tore Through The Holy Grail War, And You Still Call Him A Dragon?

The rain lashed against their bodies, like a layer of hot, salty, sweat-soaked water clinging to flesh, with coldness gnawing in from every angle.

Uesugi Yue's nerves were taut, his dual blades spinning like windmills, frantically slashing and hacking. He moved with the torrents of water, advancing with difficulty as if he were in the midst of a grand battlefield, pushing forward the battle lines with every step.

In the old man's memory, Niten Ichi-ryu, this dual-sword style, was originally developed for the battlefield.

With the single-sword style, both hands gripping one blade, no matter how refined the theoretical techniques, there was a fatal flaw: at certain angles the wrists would lock, preventing the blade from rotating further. But Niten Ichi-ryu used one sword in each hand, both single-handed grips, allowing for unrestrained and continuous cutting without obstruction.

The only limitation was that, unless the user was strong as an ox, they could not gain more advantage over the single-sword style's two-handed grip.

But Uesugi Yue was the true Shadow Emperor, a super hybrid whose bloodline surpassed even that of Gen Setsushou and Gen Setsujo. He never lacked strength—

Yet even he, in the face of the surging torrents unleashed by Shirou's blade, found himself cornered, the flood like an army of thousands sweeping in, invisible blades hidden within the killing tide clashing against his own, ringing with sharp metallic clangs.

Damn it! What kind of Niten Ichi-ryu is this, Shirou? Since when does swordsmanship shoot water cannons like artillery?!

With no time to invoke the kotodama of Black Sun, Uesugi Yue had to focus with his entire being, pushing the performance of his paired swords to the extreme.

Niten Ichi-ryu: Two Heavens Shining Sun!

The long-unused technique, slightly rusty, now shed its dust in his hands and shone anew. With the blessing of the treasured blades lent by Shirou, this strike, like twin suns blazing in the sky, clashed against the raging torrent that carried the aura of the battlefield. No matter how overwhelming the tide, his twin blades cut into it!

But that was only Shirou's opening strike.

Shirou had realized that "Water Form: Twin Rivers White Path," while having a high cutting frequency, dispersed its power too much. It was better suited for clearing wide areas at medium and long range. In a one-on-one fight, its advantage was wide coverage, making it hard to dodge, but its drawback was weaker lethality and easier defense.

Seeing that Uesugi Yue could handle it, Shirou dared to demonstrate it in this environment, sustaining it for a long release.

"Old Yue, watch out for this next move!" Shirou shouted.

The unspoken meaning: if you can't block it, don't force it.

"I may be old, but my blades aren't rusty yet!"

Uesugi Yue spun his wrists rapidly, blade tips scattering the rain, a stance of pure defiance.

"Five Rings of the Blade, Fire Form! Niten Ichi-ryu: Cross of Blazing Flames!"

From the dense curtain of rain, searing fire burst forth. Shirou's twin blades crossed, unleashing roaring fire. With a single motion, he slashed an X-shaped path of flame. The torrent evaporated into steam, scorching fissures opening on the ground beneath.

Because Shirou, like a character in some over-the-top anime, announced the technique name in advance, Uesugi Yue could easily predict the attack's trajectory.

He even had the leisure to analyze and evaluate its threat.

The old man leapt back, avoiding the searing flames. With his blade tip, he struck at the unstable flank of the "Cross of Blazing Flames." The fire exploded, shattering reefs, fragments scattering wildly in the rain-born mist.

Caught off guard, Uesugi Yue was showered with debris. Looking down at his scorched hem, he brooded.

The "Five Rings"… surely that referred to Miyamoto Musashi's Book of Five Rings?

Anyone who practiced Niten Ichi-ryu knew of it. But only the "Water Scroll" detailed specific techniques.

The "Earth Scroll" spoke of basic principles, the "Fire Scroll" of strategy, the "Wind Scroll" criticized other schools, and the "Void Scroll" was vague philosophy.

Could it be that the Book of Five Rings actually hid specific moves like this?

Thinking of Shirou's abilities and the unheard-of Holy Grail War, Uesugi Yue began to doubt his entire life. Had his family lost too much of the ancient mysteries? Was what he learned a fake version of Niten Ichi-ryu?

"Wind Form: Eight Thousand Currents!"

You've got to be kidding me!

Uesugi Yue stared in shock as Shirou spun his blades into a stance he had never learned—"Dragon Whirl Formation."

He had named it that himself, seeing the spiraling air currents around Shirou forming a raging "Sword Storm"!

In truth, Shirou had recalled Ushiwakamaru's "Shana-Ō's Wandering Tale - Fifth Scene Side Story: Castle of Rejoicing - Icicle Shaving."

If a single blade like Kusanagi could summon a sword storm, then what of twin blades under Niten Ichi-ryu?

The answer was what Uesugi Yue now witnessed.

Storms of blades, layer upon layer, built upward, becoming a towering tornado of swords reaching to the heavens.

The rain was swept aside, the flames and heat of the "Fire Form" feeding into the storm.

Wind fueled fire, merging with the downpour, twisting into high-pressure white steam torrents that shot outward, while the black tornado of countless sword strikes followed, crushing ground, shattering reefs and seawalls alike.

…He couldn't hold out.

Uesugi Yue's face grew grim. He began chanting the dragon script—

Kotodama: Black Sun, Open for me!

Turn the tide of battle!

————

"The tide can't be turned anymore… everything is over…"

Rain poured down. From Kitajima Shino's nostrils flowed black-red blood. "You don't understand how terrifying that thing is. That's a truth you'll never uncover—because it is divine punishment!"

Bound hand and foot in a cylinder, Kitajima's voice carried desperate madness, sounding less like testimony and more like a warning.

"Ha! Crow, did you hear that? He still has the nerve to warn us! Not honest at all! Give him more!" The burly Yasha stomped a huge boot on Kitajima's face.

"Pah! You? A human smuggler on snakehead boats talking divine punishment? You think you're worthy?!"

Kitajima's cervical bones cracked under the stomp, blood pouring from his nose like a dye shop in full bloom.

"Damn it, why was I sent here to suffer with this useless trash?"

Yasha lifted his boot, cursing loudly. "Meanwhile, Sakura gets reassigned overseas for a paid vacation at a time like this!"

"Think about it, Crow—we slog in filth day after day, while she strolls the Champs-Élysées and Arc de Triomphe! Just because she's the young master's personal aide?!"

Carrying a bucket of sand, Crow replied coldly, "Stop complaining. Sakura must be on an important mission. And remember—it's no longer the young master. We serve the Patriarch. He'll be here soon."

Another bucket of wet sand was poured onto Kitajima. His nose and mouth clogged, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth, his breath suffocating.

His day could not get worse. First, the "cargo" he smuggled died mysteriously, then these lunatics tortured him.

He couldn't understand—he was just a middleman in human trafficking, a boat captain running snakehead routes. How had he provoked such relentless disaster?

At last, headlights cut through the rain. A voice ordered:

"Yasha, Crow, stop. Wash his face. Make him look at me."

Soon Kitajima saw a man step from a Hummer into the rain—Gen Setsushou, likely the leader of these maniacs. The coastal construction site around them suggested his fate: if he didn't talk, he'd end up as a concrete pile, resting forever under Tokyo Bay.

"Kitajima Shino, right? Expelled from middle school, fished for a living in Hokkaido, came to Tokyo to escape poverty but failed, then joined the gang Matsuba-kai, moving into the lucrative smuggling trade. Unsatisfied still, you left, connected with foreigners, and turned to human trafficking…"

Gen Setsushou recited his entire history, even his bank account, stripping him bare. "You'd better confess everything, or you'll regret it."

"I've already told you everything!" Kitajima realized his doom. To have been abducted so silently meant this was no ordinary gang. Even his old gang couldn't catch him like this. He began begging.

"I'll give you all my money! Please! I'll never traffic people again. What happened must have been divine punishment for my sins! I don't want money! It was my greed that cursed me!"

As he said this, his madness returned. He recalled something terrifying.

"What punishment?" Gen Setsushou pressed, stabbing the hilt of his sword into the man's mouth.

Kitajima screamed in agony, his mouth shredded, at last spilling the truth.

"It was… the God of Death! Death came for us! A whole ship of people—all killed by divine punishment!"

His breathing grew ragged, broken teeth grinding in his mouth.

"Some were killed by flowerpots falling from the sky. Some drank water, choked, coughed, and died. Some tripped while walking—and died! I tried everything, kept them away from danger, but… they still died!"

(End of Chapter)

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