Chapter 37 – The Weight of Treason

【Jin PoV】

The climb back up was the hardest thing I ever did.

Each step dragged like someone tied weights to my ankles. Sweat soaked through my collar despite the cool mountain air. The trees leaned in close, branches scraping together in whispers that sounded like accusations. Wind pushed against my chest, shoving me back down toward the Underworld. I kept climbing anyway.

The stone burned cold in my pocket, pulsing against my hip bone with each heartbeat. My hand kept finding it, fingers wrapping tight around the smooth black surface. Power hummed under my skin, foreign and hungry. I told myself I was a hero. I told myself the world would thank me.

The sun had set by the time I reached the upper terraces. Purple and gold bruises spread across the sky, fading to dark at the edges. Lanterns flickered to life along the dojo walls, warm and steady. Everything looked exactly the same as when I left.

Ise still lay on the veranda.

He had not moved a single inch. The same lazy sprawl, one arm behind his head, legs crossed at the ankle. The rice cracker was gone, probably eaten. A new pile of crumbs dusted his shirt. The most powerful being I had ever known, and he spent the sunset napping.

“Did you get the snacks?”

His voice drifted out, sleepy and unbothered. He stretched his arms over his head, joints popping. A yawn cracked his jaw wide enough to swallow the moon.

“I’m starving here, Jin. Literally withering away.”

My boots hit the wooden deck harder than necessary. Mud from the Underworld streets smeared across the clean planks, dark and ugly. The sound echoed too loud in the quiet evening. My heart slammed against my ribs, part terror, part manic excitement.

“I brought you something else.”

The words came out shaky. Not from fear. From the thrill buzzing through my veins like lightning. This was it. The moment everything changed. The moment I stepped out of his shadow and claimed what should have been mine from the start.

“Oh? Is it pizza? Please tell me it’s pizza.”

He still had not opened his eyes. Still lounging like the world existed purely for his entertainment. Like I existed purely to run errands and fetch food. Rage coiled tighter in my chest.

“It is judgment.”

The deck creaked under my weight as I moved closer. Black aura leaked from my pocket, wisps of dark mana curling into the air like smoke. It stained the lantern light, turning warm gold into sickly green. My shadow stretched long and wrong behind me.

“Master. Stand up.”

Ise cracked one eye open. He looked at me first, then at the mud, then at the corruption dripping from my clothes. His gaze settled on the pocket where the stone throbbed. For a second, something flickered across his face. Not surprise. Not anger. Just deep, bone tired sadness.

“Jin. You look terrible. You need a nap.”

The casual dismissal hit like a slap. A nap. Like I was some cranky child who stayed up too late. Like this was not the culmination of months of resentment and planning. My hand found my sword hilt.

“I don’t need a nap! I need you to stop mocking us!”

Steel sang as I drew the blade. The sound cut through the evening quiet, sharp and final. The Blade of Atonement caught the dying light, gleaming like a promise. He forged this sword for me. Presented it with a smile and a speech about protecting the weak. Now I pointed it straight at his heart.

“You hoard your power. You let the world rot. You are unworthy.”

My voice shook with conviction. The tip of my blade stayed steady, aimed at the center of his chest. Dark mana crawled up from the hilt, threading between my fingers. The stone in my pocket surged, feeding me strength I never earned.

“Unworthy? That’s a big word for a Tuesday.”

He sat up slow, like his bones hurt. No weapon appeared in his hands. No defensive stance. No flash of the god tier power everyone whispered about. He just sat there cross legged, looking at me like I was throwing a tantrum in public.

“I challenge you, Ise Hiroshi. For the mountain. For the title. For everything.”

The formal words tasted like ash and glory mixed together. This was how it was supposed to go. Hero challenges the old guard. The new era begins. History turns on moments like this. My grip tightened until my knuckles went white.

“You don’t want this, Jin. It’s heavy. It’s boring.”

His tone stayed flat, almost bored. Like we were discussing laundry instead of a duel to decide the fate of the mountain. That lazy indifference made something crack inside my chest.

“You are just afraid!”

The accusation flew out before I could stop it. My blade trembled now, not from weakness but from pure fury. Afraid. The word tasted right. He had to be. Why else would someone with that much power do absolutely nothing?

“Afraid? No. I’m just… disappointed.”

The word landed like a hammer to the chest. Disappointed. Not threatened. Not worried. Not even angry. Just let down, like I failed some test I did not know I was taking. That calm, sad look in his eyes made the rage boil over completely.

“Draw your blade!”

My shout echoed off the dojo walls. Birds scattered from the nearby trees, wings beating hard against the twilight. The stone pulsed faster, matching my racing heart. Power flooded my system, dark and eager.

“Nah. Too much work.”

He waved one hand dismissively, like shooing a fly. Like I was not worth the effort of standing up. Like everything I built myself into meant less than nothing. My vision went red at the edges.

“Then die!”

I lunged.

Every lesson, every drill, every hour on the training grounds poured into that single strike. My mana surged through the blade, amplified by the stone’s corruption. Speed and power merged into one perfect killing thrust. I moved faster than I ever had before, blade cutting through air with a sound like tearing silk.

This was the best strike of my life.

The angle was flawless. The timing could not be better. I poured everything into it, every ounce of strength, every drop of twisted ambition. The tip of my sword aimed true, straight for his undefended heart. This was a strike meant to kill legends. Meant to topple gods.

It was perfect.

The blade stopped.

One inch from his chest, my sword froze in the air like it hit an invisible wall. My arms strained, muscles screaming as I pushed harder. Nothing moved. The blade would not advance even a fraction further. Sweat poured down my face.

“You done?”

Ise sat perfectly still. He had not moved. Had not raised a finger. The air around him just refused to let my blade through, like physics itself decided to take his side. His eyes watched me with that same sad, tired look.

My breath came in ragged gasps. The stone screamed in my pocket, demanding more power, more rage. Dark mana flooded through my veins until they felt like they would burst. I pushed harder.

Nothing changed.

“This… this is impossible.”

The words scraped out of my throat. My perfect strike, backed by stolen divine power, stopped dead by a man who would not even stand up. Reality crashed down on me all at once, cold and merciless.

“Impossible? Nah. Just physics.”

He finally moved, one finger reaching up to flick the tip of my blade. The casual touch sent me flying backward. I crashed through the veranda railing, wood exploding into splinters. My back slammed into the courtyard stones hard enough to crack them.

Pain screamed through every nerve. The sword fell from my grip, clattering away across the ground. I tried to breathe and could not. The stone in my pocket went silent, its power suddenly feeling small and pathetic.

Ise stood up for the first time that day.

The sky seemed to darken around him. Pressure rolled off his frame in waves, crushing down on my chest until breathing felt like lifting mountains. This was the real thing. The power everyone feared. The strength he kept buried under laziness and naps.

“You really thought that would work?”

He walked to the edge of the broken veranda, looking down at me sprawled in the dirt. His shadow fell over me, long and absolute. For the first time in my life, I understood how small I actually was.

The stone burned in my pocket now, but not with power. With shame.