VOL - 2 (The Backstory)
Chapter-6: The Night of Blood
The scent of burning wood filled the air. The once peaceful courtyard of the Han residence was now engulfed in flames, casting eerie shadows on the blood-soaked ground. Screams echoed through the night—some fading into silence, others cut short by the unmistakable sound of steel slicing through flesh.
Kim Han, only twelve years old, stood frozen in the center of the massacre, his feet drenched in the warm blood of his kin. His breath came in short, panicked gasps as he clutched the trembling hand of his younger sister, Yui, who clung to his side, sobbing.
"Han… I'm scared…" her voice was barely a whisper.
He wanted to tell her it would be okay. That someone would come to save them. But the truth was painted in the bodies sprawled before him—his mother, her lifeless eyes wide open, her throat slit. His father, still gripping his katana, but his chest impaled by three swords. His elder brother, lying motionless a few feet away, the pool of blood beneath him growing larger by the second.
And standing amidst it all was Daichi Sato.
Dressed in a pristine white coat that had begun to stain red, the butcher of the Han family wiped his katana clean against his sleeve, his crimson eyes burning with a twisted satisfaction.
"Kill the rest," Daichi ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.
Kim Han's body moved before his mind could catch up. He grabbed Yui's hand and ran.
But he wasn't fast enough.
A sharp whistle of steel cut through the air, followed by a wet thunk.
Yui's small hand slipped from his grasp.
He turned.
She was still standing, but the blade protruding from her chest told him the truth.
Her tiny lips parted as she tried to speak, but only blood spilled out.
Then—she fell.
Kim Han's world shattered.
A scream tore from his throat, raw and inhuman, as he lunged at the man who had thrown the blade. A masked soldier, amused by the boy's rage, raised his sword lazily, preparing to cut him down.
But before Kim Han could reach him, a hand gripped his hair and yanked him back.
Daichi.
"You have spirit," he mused, lifting Kim Han by the collar. "But spirit means nothing when you're weak."
Kim Han struggled, thrashed, kicked—but it was useless.
Daichi drove his knee into Han's ribs. A sickening crack. Pain exploded in his body as he hit the ground, gasping. His vision blurred, but he still saw Daichi crouch beside him.
"I'll let you live," Daichi whispered, his voice dripping with venom. "Because I want to see how much you can suffer."
Kim Han tried to reply, but his consciousness faded into darkness.
—That was the night Kim Han died.
—And the Last Ronin was born.
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