Muramasa's mouth curled—not into a smile.
Into interest.
The clearing grew still.
Smoke curled in the air behind him, not from fire, but from presence alone. The spirit of the blade turned, finally facing Jin fully.
"You said," he repeated, "this war is greater."
Jin straightened. The weight of his earlier bow still grounded him. But now, he rose.
"It is," he said plainly.
Muramasa stepped closer, faint sparks flickering where his feet touched the moss. "Speak, then."
Jin drew in a breath.
"You were right," he began. "In your time, when you first looked at me—you said there wasn't a war worthy of your blade. That my era didn't deserve it."
He met the sword spirit's gaze directly.
"And you were right. Then."
Muramasa didn't reply. He waited.
"But things have changed," Jin continued. "Something's happened—something we call the System. It's not an enemy we can fight. It's not something we can touch. It arrived without warning and rewrote everything."
