The final bell of the third day was not a signal of release. It was a war horn. Its shrill, electronic cry echoed through the nearly empty halls of Black Fang High, a final, metallic gasp before the world held its breath. The few students who had dared to come to school scurried away like rats from a sinking ship, their faces pale with terror.
The courtyard, a wide expanse of cracked concrete and yellowed grass, became the designated battlefield. On one side, huddled near the main school building, stood Takeda Shingen and his makeshift army. There were nearly two hundred of them, a sea of anxious faces armed with pipes, bats, and a misplaced sense of duty. They were trying to look brave, but the nervous shuffling of their feet and the whites of their eyes betrayed them.
On the rooftops and in the second-story windows overlooking the courtyard, Reina Kurozawa and her small, elite squad of twenty Disciplinary members stood ready. They were armed, but they were not part of Takeda's army. They were observers, a contingency, their expressions grim and professional. Reina had her binoculars trained on the main gate, her knuckles white where she gripped them. Ravi's order to stand down echoed in her mind, a command that went against every one of her instincts.
And where was Ravi? No one knew. He had not been seen since his conversation with Reina on the rooftop the previous evening. His absence was a heavy, suffocating presence, a question mark hanging over the entire battlefield.
Then, they came.
It started as a low rumble, a distant vibration that grew steadily into the thunderous roar of over a hundred marching feet. The sound was disciplined, rhythmic, terrifying. At the main gate of Black Fang High, a wave of crimson appeared.
Crimson Fist High had arrived.
They did not trickle in; they poured through the gates like a bloody tide, their numbers easily matching Takeda's. But where Takeda's army was a mob, this was a legion. They moved with a swaggering, predatory confidence. At their head, parting the sea of red uniforms, was Renji "Demon Hands" Himura.
He was even more intimidating in person. A mountain of scarred muscle and malice, he wore his uniform open, revealing a chest covered in intricate, demonic tattoos. He walked with a slow, deliberate gait, his massive, stone-like hands swinging at his sides. His eyes, cold and black as obsidian chips, scanned the terrified faces of Takeda's army, and a cruel, contemptuous smirk spread across his lips.
"So this is the mighty Black Fang," Renji's voice boomed across the courtyard, a gravelly roar that needed no megaphone. "You look like a bunch of scared rabbits. Takeda!" he bellowed. "I'm here as you asked. Now, where is he? Where is this so-called 'King of Silence'? Bring him to me so I can tear him apart!"
Takeda, standing on a makeshift podium, swallowed hard, but held his ground. "He is a coward, Renji-san!" he shouted back, trying to project confidence. "He has abandoned his post! But we, the true warriors of Black Fang, will stand with you!"
Renji let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Stand with me? Don't insult me. You're not warriors. You're the appetizer." He turned to his own army, a savage grin on his face. "Boys! Looks like we have to clear out the trash before the main course. You've got five minutes to break them. Have fun!"
With a unified, bloodthirsty roar, the Crimson Fist army charged.
The battle was a slaughter.
Takeda's militia, for all their numbers, were no match for the seasoned sadists of Crimson Fist. The front lines collided with a sickening crunch of metal on bone. The frightened bravado of the Black Fang students evaporated on first contact. They fought with desperation; Crimson Fist fought with joyous, practiced cruelty.
From her vantage point, Reina watched in horror. It was a chaotic, one-sided massacre. Her hands clenched and unclenched. Her orders were to stand down, but watching her schoolmates get brutalized was agony. "Hold your positions," she commanded her squad through her comms, her voice tight with restraint. "Not yet."
Takeda, watching his army crumble, was in a state of shock. He had imagined a glorious, unified battle. Instead, he had orchestrated a rout. He drew a bokken (wooden sword) from his side, his face a mask of desperate fury, and prepared to leap into the fray himself.
And it was at that moment, with the courtyard descending into a screaming vortex of violence and despair, that the main doors to the school building slid open.
A lone figure emerged.
It was Ravi Sharma.
He walked out of the school and into the sunlight, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. He wasn't hurrying. He wasn't running. He was just… walking, as if he were heading to the convenience store. He moved through the chaotic battlefield like a phantom. The fighting seemed to part around him, friend and foe alike unconsciously moving out of his path.
His presence was a sudden, jarring note in the symphony of violence. A Crimson Fist brawler, his face spattered with blood, turned and saw Ravi calmly walking by. "Hey, you—" he began, raising a pipe.
He never finished the sentence. Kenji, appearing out of nowhere like a loyal hound, intercepted him. A single, brutal elbow to the jaw sent the brawler crashing to the ground. The Silent Guard had engaged, but they were not fighting the war. They were simply clearing a path for their king.
Ravi continued his unhurried stroll until he reached the very center of the courtyard, the eye of the storm. He stopped, standing amidst the chaos, yet utterly untouched by it.
His appearance had not gone unnoticed. Renji, who had been watching the slaughter with bored amusement, suddenly straightened up. His black eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the calm figure. He could feel it. A strange, unnerving pocket of absolute nothingness in the middle of the raging battlefield.
"So, the rat finally comes out of his hole," Renji growled, a hungry, predatory light entering his eyes. He took a step forward, then another, his attention completely stolen by this new, fascinating anomaly.
Ravi slowly raised his head, his silver eyes sweeping over the scene. He saw the terrified Black Fang students being beaten down. He saw Takeda's horrified face. He saw Reina watching him with tense anticipation from the rooftops. He saw the bloodthirsty grins of the Crimson Fist army. He saw Renji, a hulking monster of muscle and hate, staring at him.
He took it all in. The noise. The pain. The chaos. The world, knocking at his door.
He let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh. The sigh of a being whose patience had finally, irrevocably, run out.
He brought two fingers to his lips and whistled.
It was not a loud sound. It was a short, sharp, piercing note. But it cut through the din of battle like a divine command. Every single person in the courtyard—Black Fang, Crimson Fist, Takeda, Reina—froze. The fighting stopped mid-punch. The screams died in throats.
An absolute, ringing silence fell over the battlefield. Every eye turned to the boy in the center.
Ravi lowered his hand, his silver eyes locking directly onto Renji's. The air between them grew thick, charged with an energy that was more terrifying than any physical violence.
He spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but in the dead silence, it carried to every corner of the courtyard, clear and cold as a funeral bell.
"You wanted to meet the king."
He took a slow step forward, the ground beneath his feet seeming to tremble slightly. A faint, dark pressure began to emanate from him, a suffocating aura that made hearts hammer and lungs constrict.
"Court is now in session."