The Resurrection
In the depths of the Shadowlands, in the heart of a ruined city, in the center of a forgotten arena, stood a broken portal of sleek black stone. Once, it had been a serpent, eternally swallowing its own tail. Once, it had been a gateway to other places.
Now it was only a ruin.
At the foot of the portal knelt a single man, dressed in a plain brown kimono. His head was shaven like a monk's. His dark brown eyes were fixed upon the heart of the portal. The scowling mempo that was the symbol of the true Dark Lord was emblazoned upon his right sleeve, guiding his sword arm.
And he waited.
“I do not trust him,” Hida Enko whispered. She crouched in the shadows of a weathered archway beside the other four Crab. “We should not have come here.”
“He would have come here even without us,” Hiruma Ashihei whispered grimly. “Better that we keep an eye on him than let him wander alone, I think.”
“No need to whisper, Crab,” Rezan said, looking up from his meditation with a grim smile. “There are no secrets from me in this place.”
“Madman,” Enko said with a sneer, glaring at the kneeling ronin poet. “Why did we even listen to him?”
“He wears the symbol of the Dark Lord,” Hida Daizu added, barely concealing the murder in his voice.
“The Dark Lord and the Crab are at peace, for now,” Hiruma Todori said, though he watched Rezan cautiously. “The Crab will not fail to keep their word while Fu Leng's minions keep theirs.”
“Rezan speaks the truth, for what it is worth,” said Kuni Jiyuna. “Oblivion's Gate stirs once more.” The Witch Hunter looked uneasy, eyes alert and fixed on the ronin poet. “How did you know this would happen, ronin? I sense no magic in you.”
Rezan only chuckled.
“What must we do, ronin?” Jiyuna asked. “What will come through the Gate?”
“You need not fear what comes,” Rezan said, “and you need do nothing to aid it. It will aid us.”
“Then why did you bring us here?” Enko snapped irritably. Rezan looked up at her mildly, eyes moving to her hand, clenched on the hilt of her sword. He smirked and returned to his vigil.
“You need only do what comes naturally, Crab,” he said. “You will not be displeased with the results.”
Enko opened her mouth to argue again, but Ashihei quickly held out a restraining hand. Enko followed his eyes; her sword was drawn in an instant, just as a cloud of boiling darkness spilled across the arena, followed by a hideous echoing cry.
“FOR IUCHIBAN!”
Two dozen black-robed men charged into the arena. Each man's head was shaven clean and covered with intricate scar patterns. Each wielded a wicked curved sword of black stone, blazing with red fire.
“Bloodspeakers,” Jiyuna said, rising to her feet with a snarl.
“Only twenty,” Ashihei replied calmly. He stood beside her, balancing his tetsubo in both hands. Daizu laughed, agreeing with his friend's bravado.
As the Bloodspeakers drew nearer, a peal of thunder echoed through the arena. A faint green light began to build within the depths of the shattered stone portal.
“The time has come,” Rezan said, leaping to his feet. “The Realm of Thwarted Destiny opens. We must hold the portal until he arrives.”
A savage crack resounded as Ashihei's tetsubo struck the first of the Bloodspeakers. An obsidian blade slashed his midsection but he struck its wielder away with a powerful backhand, ignoring the wound. Then Enko was beside him, katana slicing a path through the tsukai. Todori struck down another with a well placed arrow, narrowly dodging beneath another's blade. Jiyuna called jade fire from the earth to burn their enemies, but they continued their charge. Daizu threw a heavy shoulder into the first to approach the Gate, driving the Bloodspeaker into the ground, where he did not move again.
Another peal of thunder erupted, this time shaking the entire arena. The glow within the gate grew brighter.
A large Bloodspeaker fired a bolt of pure black energy into Daizu's chest, but the Crab did not fall, not at first. With a final burst of strength he seized his attacker by the throat and squeezed, then toppled to the earth.
“Daizu!” Todori shouted, fighting his way toward his comrade's side. The Bloodspeakers surged around the Hiruma daimyo but his blade seemed everywhere at once, knocking aside his enemies' weapons and slicing into their ranks. He hauled the larger man to his feet and retreated to the Gate. Through the portal he saw two mighty legions, clashing with one another in a half-formed reflection of the world around them. Rezan stood nearby, katana dripping with the blood of fallen Bloodspeakers, watching the battle with eager eyes. One army had reached the other side first, and Todori's heart fell when he saw the face of the man who led it.
It was a face that all men knew, a twisted, monstrous visage that all Crab were taught to remember. Taught to hate.
“Kuni Yori,” Todori whispered.
“What have you done, poet?” Enko snapped, glaring at Rezan in betrayal.
“This is not how it was meant to be,” Rezan hissed, sounding even angrier than the Crab.
“Ignore him!” Todori shouted. “Hold the portal. If Kuni Yori would walk this world again he will face us first!”
The cry invigorated the outnumbered and wounded Crab. They gathered in a circle around the Hiruma daimyo, blades, tetsubo, and magic holding back their attackers, but only barely. The battle would soon be over, they all knew, but the Bloodspeakers' victory would not be easy.
Todori risked another glance at the battle behind, and to his amazement the scene began to shift. A circle of warriors had broken through Yori's army, charging toward the Black Crab himself. Yori had turned to face them, striking down all who dared approach them with unspeakable magic. At his command, demons tore through the ranks of his attackers, but one would not fall. A single rider on a single horse charged through the chaos, screaming in blind fury. Neither Yori's magic or demon claws would hold him at bay, and as he leapt from his saddle with his swords held high even the Black Crab seemed afraid. With a frustrated scream, Yori fell under the unknown rider's wild attack. As Yori fell, another samurai separated himself from the ranks of those attacking him, moving toward the gate.
Todori could risk watching the battle behind no longer, turning back to his attackers. It seemed for a moment as if the Bloodspeakers might be defeated despite the overwhelming odds, but his heart sank as he watched dozens more of the black-robed figures charging through every entrance into the arena. There was no way to fight so many, not in so ill-defended a place. Enko was right; the ronin had led them to their doom.
The bright glow of Oblivion's Gate began to fade, and for a moment the hope drained from the old scout's heart – nothing had come through at all. At the very least, he said to himself, Yori had not returned.
Then a heavy footfall sounded behind him, and another. A massive warrior stepped through the shattered archway, black armor gleaming with the few sparks of magic that still crackled through the gate. This samurai was also familiar to every Crab that guarded the Wall, though when Todori saw him he could not bring himself to believe it was possible.
Rezan laughed out loud, a long, mad laugh.
The Bloodspeakers fell back, weapons shaking unsteadily in their hands, as they looked into the eyes of the lone samurai that had returned.
The Great Bear, the Fortune of Persistence, Hida Kisada, had entered to the mortal realm. For a long, silent moment, the enormous warrior said nothing, did nothing. His flint black eyes scanned the ranks of the wounded Crab soldiers and the countless enemies that surrounded him.
“I have been told much has changed,” he said, deep voice echoing through the arena, “but I see too much has remained the same.”
He lifted his tetsubo in one thick hand, pointing it at the chest of the nearest Bloodspeaker.
He said nothing more. The Crab stood as one, their wounds forgotten, and charged into the enemy beside their returned leader.
This time, the outcome was not in question.
