The night wind in Sanctuary Plum Blossom smelled of iron, blood, and the scent of withering plum blossoms. The moonlight never reached the altar, as if even the old gods were reluctant to witness what would happen on this long night. From afar, the sound of war drums and the thud of spells struck the sanctuary walls, making the ground tremble like the heartbeat of death. Among the shadows dancing under the full moon, a threat felt like a grip on the air, adding weight to every breath. An oppressive silence enveloped this sacred area, like a reservoir of fear trapped within its soul.
Oda Nobuzan, clad in a blood-stained battle robe, stood in the midst of the generals' hall. Her gaze was sharp and full of fire, not the slightest bit daunted even though the Sanctuary was surrounded and the number of enemies was many times greater. Her long black hair flowed freely, and her cheeks and chin bore thin cuts. But those wounds did not weaken her—rather, they became a symbol that no leader of Oda knew the word surrender. With every heartbeat that vibrated the atmosphere, the pain and sacrifice of the soldiers flashed in her memory, carving a bitter smile on her face. She knew that in this darkness, they were not just fighting for their lives, but for every soul that had ever placed hope in them.
Nobuzan looked at the generals, ten of whom knelt on the stone floor, while Hayate, the old commander, stood closest to the altar. Doubt and fear reflected on the faces of the kneeling generals, as if they were burdened by a pile of dark hopes directed at them. "You all know, today is not about winning or losing. It is about dignity. If we fall, let the world remember Oda as a clan that died with secrets, not as a mother that gave birth to a curse upon the world." Nobuzan's voice thundered, like the sound of thunder shaking the sky. Each word was like a spell that ignited their spirits, yet reminded them of the shadows of death lurking at every step. She felt every soul at stake in this battle, and she would not let betrayal snatch away the pride that had been built over centuries.
One of the generals, Tsukishiro, bowed his head, his voice trembling: "Princess, if they breach the main gate, will—" Nobuzan raised her hand, stopping that question. The atmosphere in the room grew more suffocating, trapped in a tension that could almost be cut with a dagger. Every eye was on Nobuzan, reflected in the dark shadows that grew more threatening. "If I must die, you know what to do. My womb must not fall into the hands of the enemy, even if it means burning the entire sanctuary along with my body. I want that promise, not just a samurai oath, but a blood oath of Oda."
They nodded in unison, swords drawn and planted into the ground. Nobuzan took a dagger, slicing her palm, blood dripping onto the stone floor forming a spiral pattern. The sound of her blood dripping echoed like the wailing of lost souls, calling upon the spirits of ancestors ready to sacrifice. The generals followed suit, their blood uniting on the altar floor, creating an eternal bond in the unavoidable darkness.
"This is not a ritual. This is a warning. If any one of you betrays, I will send you to hell myself before the enemy steps into the sanctuary." Nobuzan's eyes glinted coldly, as if she could pierce the soul of anyone who tried to turn away. The tension peaked, every heartbeat becoming a threat muffled in the oppressive silence. "I am not a gentle mother. I am not a victim. I am the last ruler of Oda, and I would rather eliminate allies than let the enemy take a single breath from my child."
Hayate, though old, held back tears. In his weary gaze, hope and fear battled, while the shadows of the past demanded answers for the sacrifices to be made. "Princess, we will not let history write your name as a traitor. But if we must choose between death and honor, we choose to die."
Nobuzan nodded, then turned her gaze to the female guards, five of whom were already prepared with self-destruct spells, waiting for the password to initiate the ritual if the sanctuary was truly breached. The tension hung in the air, as if they could hear their own heartbeats, united in the chilling silence before the storm. Every second crawled like an hour, filled with anxiety and shattered hope.
Meanwhile, far beneath the kingdom of Gaia, Queen Iris sat cross-legged in front of a candle flame, accompanied by her three most loyal protectors. An aura of exhaustion hung on her face, yet the determination in her eyes never faded. Outside, the sounds of war grew closer; the ground trembled every time Bellator Ultima struck the outer walls. Each thud was a reminder of what was at stake, how thin the line was between life and death.
One female protector, Miel, extended a worn piece of paper inscribed with the glyph of the pact. She felt the bitterness of the words to be spoken, as if each letter weighed like a stone. "Queen, this… is from Oda. If we fall tonight, they ask us to end the bloodline, do not let the enemy take their unborn. They are ready to do the same for us."
Iris fell silent for a long time. This choice was not just between life and death; it was about legacy and sacrifice. "The blood pact… we used to only write it in legends, now it must be truly done. I… I will not let the world bear a second disaster. If this is the will of the world, I accept."
With every word, the weight of responsibility burdened her shoulders. Her hands trembled as she signed the glyph of the pact, dripping blood onto the paper. The protectors repeated the same ritual—a vow that transcended fate, refusing to compromise with the world. In their hearts, there was an agreement to face the coming darkness, even if it meant leaving everything they loved behind.
Among the generals and protectors, whispers of betrayal began to grow. Darkness clung to every corner, like an invisible shadow watching every step. Every spark of doubt shook the sincerity that should have been their anchor. In the sanctuary of Oda, a young samurai, Minoru, sneaked into the basement, carrying a secret message for the Division Iron Blossom. He wrote on thin paper glyph: "If you attack from the south, I will open the altar room door. A promise of amnesty for my family." In Minoru's heart, hope hung by a thin thread between loyalty and betrayal, as he imagined the faces of his family trapped in darkness. Minoru slipped the letter into a crack in the outer stone, knowing full well that the Earth forces had glyph readers within hours. Every risk burned within him, yet he would not back down. The unimaginable threat awaited outside, but hope left a glimmer of light in the midst of darkness.
In Gaia, a protective sorceress secretly sent signals to Earth: which path was the weakest, where Queen Iris's protective spells were thinnest, and the hours when the queen slept. Uncertainty clung to every movement, every spell vibrating with pent-up tension, holding dark secrets that could change fate.
As the blood oath was established, the seeds of destruction had already grown from within. The tree of sacrifice spread its roots, gripping the souls that had been ensnared in dark agreements, while darkness crept into their minds, tearing apart every bond that existed.
On the surface, war occurred in physical form: paladins and samurai fought to the death, blood flowing on the stairs, corridors, and altar. In the depths, the blood oath became a magical force uniting the fates of Gaia and Oda—this ritual strengthened the protectors, but also bound the fates of both queens to a line of destruction: if one fell, both would perish.
Behind the blood-soaked altar walls, tension radiated like hot air. Every soldier felt the pulse of war—the aura of death lurking, hiding in the shadows. They knew that in the darkness of this night, only courage would determine who would survive, and who would be stranded in ruin.
In the deepest level, the war raged in the hearts of every character: Nobuzan had to fight against fear and ambition; Iris held back despair and guilt; the protectors battled against the whispers of betrayal and doubt about the meaning of sacrifice.
Amidst the clatter of weapons and screams, a whisper infiltrated Nobuzan's mind, accusing her of being a traitor to those who entrusted their lives to her. Continuously, her mind was tormented by images of betrayal, imagining the faces of those who died because of her decisions.
The night grew deeper. Nobuzan walked through the altar corridor with firm steps. Each time a soldier showed signs of weakness, she did not hesitate to punish them on the spot—her sword beheading a guard caught trying to flee, their blood left to pool on the floor as a warning.
In the altar hall, dim light made the shadows tremble, as if signaling the presence of the spirits of fallen soldiers. Nobuzan heard the rumbling of their lost journeys, indicating that the blood spilled was not just the blood of the guards, but also the hopes and dreams that had been shattered.
"You think I am cruel? It is better for you to fear me than the enemy waiting outside. Every traitor is a poison that kills a thousand hopes. If there is one more who tries to flee, I will burn them myself on this altar."
Her heart trembled, torn between responsibility and anger. Her mind spun, revealing the faces of those she loved and lost; every decision could bring her one step closer to emptiness. The pressure became heavy, yet she could not show weakness.
The samurai fell silent, caught between respect and fear. For them, Nobuzan was not just a leader—she was the very embodiment of anger, the last bastion of Oda's will that was impossible to breach. In their hearts, fear left an indelible scar, reminding them of the promises that must be fulfilled and the sacrifices that must be made.
With every heartbeat, curiosity and anxiety clashed among them. What would happen if this oath was broken? What did it mean to live without dignity in front of a leader so merciless?
Before dawn, Nobuzan led a small ceremony at the altar, placing a family sword on her pregnant belly. Cold sweat trickled down the brows of the samurai as they witnessed the procession; they felt the unbearable burden, as if the altar itself was filled with the spirits of ancestors who had sacrificed for name and blood.
On the other side of the world, Iris did the same, pressing the blood glyph to her womb. In the terrifying silence, the flow of dark energy could be felt, as if the whole world held its breath waiting for the sacrifice to materialize.
In the dark, the protectors lit small fires, reciting ancient spells: The blazing fire made their shadows appear larger, as if merging with the spirits of the soldiers who had fought before them. Each word of the spell sang a song of death, echoing between the walls filled with tales of betrayal and loyalty.
"If the world rejects, let our blood be the sacrifice. If fate forces, let our names vanish with the last breath."
Outside, the enemy was already waiting. Inside, the unborn remained still, as if holding its breath. The blood oath had been spoken—there was no turning back. This act was not merely about life or death; it was a marker uniting two worlds in the dark of power and the sweat of fear.
As the first light pierced the sanctuary roof, the sound of war drums ceased. Silence. But Nobuzan knew that this silence was merely the last breath before the storm. She stood on the altar, looking at the soldiers, her cold voice trembling:
"Today, you are not just defending me and my child. You are defending the entire honor of Oda, the entire legacy of a world that never surrenders."
Immersed in silence, every soldier felt the weight of the promise they had made. In the darkness of the night, they saw the shadows of the past; the faces of lost friends, the souls sacrificed, and dreams turned to dust. They knew there was no room for doubt; there was only the dark path waiting ahead.
In Gaia, Iris embraced the family emblem, ready with the final spell if the enemy breached the altar. A bitter taste filled her heart, recalling moments when all of this was just a dream—a peaceful world where her family could live without fear. But now, everything revolved around one point; courage in the darkness. Outside, the Earth forces began to move, black flags waving, and a day full of blood was ready to begin.
On that quiet night, amidst blood and oaths, history decided to favor those who could endure—or to those who were cruel enough to destroy everything for a future that no one desired. Their blood would become a silent witness, etched in the stone of ages, in the sacrifices that would determine fate. With every heartbeat that faded, hope and fear intertwined in a single terrifying melody, leading them to the gates of war that awaited with drawn bows.