Neon Genesis Deltora: Crisis of The Lightning Emperor
The air inside the command deck of the Vandread was thick with the scent of ozone and burning coolant. Outside the viewport, the neon-streaked skies of the Limitless Fortress churned like a bruised storm.
Tatsuma Heyu stood with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the blade resting against Masaki Karsu’s shoulder. Kyogi Kagimi stepped between them, his eyes reflecting the harsh, ambient light of the monitors.
"You're going to need more than technique if you want to win," Kyogi said, his voice dropping an octave. "The arena down there... it doesn't care about your perfect form, Masaki."
Masaki didn't flinch. He gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white. "It's just... my blood is screaming, telling me there's something else in life."
"Answer me now, Masaki!" Tatsuma interrupted, taking a heavy step forward. The raw desperation in his voice cut through the hum of the ship's core. "It all depends on your answer. So it's true? You're really going to leave?"
Masaki turned his head, looking past his comrades toward the sprawling, chaotic expanse of the fortress below.
"It's better I'm not in the Limitless Fortress," Masaki said quietly. "I thought if I could harness Genji power, I might be able to unite the kingdom and put an end to all the pointless fights."
Kyogi sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders, replaced by a crushing weight of history. He turned toward the shadows at the back of the room, where an unexpected ally stood in silence.
"Life had not always been this way," Kyogi added, looking directly at Leif, King of Deltora. "There was a time when the people of Torra were united and had known peace. When seven tribes lived in harmony, each tribe the guardian of a gem that possessed mysterious power."
Leif nodded slowly, his hand resting instinctively on the Belt of Deltora beneath his cloak. He understood the burden of scattered relics and fractured kingdoms all too well. The Genji power Masaki sought was no different from the magic of the gems—a force that could either bind a world together or tear it apart at the seams.
Before Leif could speak, the pneumatic doors hissed open.
Hibiki, pilot of the Vandread, entered the room, wiping grease from his forehead with the back of a gloved hand. He looked at the grim faces of the swordsmen, then at the displaced king, and finally at Masaki.
"The Vanguard is prepped, and the coordinates for Torra are locked into the navigation matrix," Hibiki said, breaking the heavy silence. "If we're going to chase legends and hunt down ancient power to stop a war, we need to move now. The fortress defenses are waking up."
Masaki looked at his blade one last time before shearing it into its scabbard. "Then let's go. My blood has given its answer."
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