The sky above Neo-Tokai City blazed red. Ash fell like black snow, swirling through skyscraper ruins and neon-lit alleyways. Sirens howled from shattered towers. Broadcasts stuttered into static. Mishima Headquarters—once the immovable god of the corporate world—now sat beneath a growing tide of revolution.
And at its center, walking through fire and concrete, was Genji Takashima.
He marched at the head of an army forged not from soldiers, but from scars.
On one flank, the monks of Ash Spire moved like a crimson wave, their flame-scripts glowing on bare chests, led by Kael, who held his staff like a banner of war. Juliet Carl's defectors flanked the other side—hackers, saboteurs, and ex-investors who now wore the Flame Wreath insignia with pride. Blaze's old street crew, the Gutter Sons, rode salvaged hoverbikes up the broken avenues, spraying drones with EMP rounds and laughing like ghosts of war.
And above it all, the sky cracked with thunder as Xao Min Feng's rogue mechas descended. Sleek, bone-white machines with phoenix crests painted in blood. Their A.I. codenames pulsed in red: JIRAIYA, MOMO, and Z3N.
From every corner of the city, the storm converged.
Genji stood atop a crumbling transport tower and activated the relay.
His voice boomed across frequencies, slicing through Mishima's censors.
"This isn't vengeance. This is justice with a pulse."
Screens everywhere flickered. Resistance nodes awakened. Civilians peered from hiding. Some began to cheer. Others picked up old protest signs. A few opened hidden caches of outlawed tech.
The rebellion had a face now. And a flame.
Within the command spire of Mishima HQ, Lady Kirika Mishima stared at the siege through a wall of augmented glass. Her fingers curled around the armrest of her throne-like chair.
"He brings the gutters and monks and calls it justice," she spat.
Commander Kogarashi stood behind her, arms folded, armored and unreadable. "Permission to activate Helix Protocol?"
She nodded.
"Send the Warblade Elites. Burn the rot from the roots."
On the lower levels of the HQ district, Blaze and Juliet led a strike team into a power nexus guarded by Warblade drones. Juliet's eyes shimmered with HUD overlays.
"Firewall engaged. We need thirty seconds."
"You'll get fifteen," Blaze said, already leaping into battle.
He ducked a plasma shot, spun into a low sweep, and planted an explosive disc under a drone's frame. It erupted behind him in a shower of sparks.
Juliet smirked, fingers dancing on her neural pad. "Fine. Ten seconds it is."
Behind them, the Gutter Sons provided cover, their makeshift cannons discharging sonic rounds that shattered reinforced walls. The Warblade resistance was heavier than expected—armored exosuits, plasma lances, even anti-phoenix barriers.
But it didn't matter.
Because Genji was already at the gates.
He approached the Mishima wall with Kael and Xao Min beside him. Ash Spire monks chanted under their breath, forming a flame sigil in the air. The giant mechas lined up behind them, hydraulic limbs thudding like war drums.
"Last chance to back down," Kael said.
"Too late for that," Genji replied.
Xao Min adjusted her targeting visor, voice soft. "On your mark."
He raised a single hand.
The phoenix glyph on his palm burned red.
Then he whispered, "Mark."
The world exploded.
The monks unleashed chained fire-lances. The mechas launched seismic disruptors that cracked the ground open. Genji sprinted forward, dodging bullets and energy spears, arms glowing with Red Thunder. He moved like lightning—not a blur, but a strike.
A Warblade commander lunged, sword raised.
Genji slid under him, twisted, and countered with Red Thunder: Lotus Fang, a rotating heel kick that cracked the man's armor in half.
He didn't stop.
The phoenix inside him was awake, roaring with clarity. Every motion burned with conviction. He wasn't just fighting Mishima.
He was burning their very myth.
Inside the tower, alarms screamed. Kirika stood, robe billowing.
"He forces our hand."
Kogarashi nodded. "Then let us show him the final blade."
They activated the Black Helix Core.
A vault opened below the spire.
And something ancient stirred.
Back outside, Genji stood at the breached entrance of Mishima HQ. The city behind him burned, but it was a cleansing fire. His forces surged forward, planting banners, sealing junctions, freeing prisoners. The first true crack in Mishima's empire had formed.
Xao Min stepped beside him, face streaked with smoke.
"We made it," she said.
He nodded, gaze rising to the peak of the spire.
"Not yet. The core still sleeps."
She frowned. "Then what comes next?"
He turned to her.
"War. The real kind."
And as the flames rose around them, the Ash Revolt began in full.