Blood Emperor: Kairo Renjou

Chapter 7:The Duel That Shouldn’t Have Happened

The Ayanami estate’s training grounds thrummed with anticipation, a current of energy running through every soul present. News had raced through the compound—Lord Daigo Ayanami had publicly summoned the outsider son-in-law for a “test.” No one was fooled by the polite wording; this was about humiliation, pure and simple, a spectacle designed to remind everyone of their place.

Ryu stood alone at the heart of the arena, the air thick with dust that swirled around his feet. Eyes pressed in from every direction, some openly curious, others barely hiding their disdain. Servants clustered at the edges, whispering behind their sleeves, their excitement barely contained. The seasoned warriors lined the perimeter, arms folded, faces set in hard lines as they sized him up like predators circling wounded prey. They had seen tests before—this, though, promised more.

Across the arena, Kaori Ayanami stepped forward, her posture regal in the family’s white and violet, every inch of her attire immaculate. Her hair was pinned up with precision, not a strand out of place, as if she wore her pride as a shield. Yet her eyes betrayed her—darting to Ryu, unsettled, caught between worry and exasperation, as if she could not decide whether to hope he would prevail or wish he would simply walk away.

She muttered just loud enough for him to hear, “How did it come to this?”

Ryu met her gaze, managing a crooked, reassuring smile. “Not my idea.”

She let out a sharp, dismissive snort. “Obviously.” Her arms folded tighter, bracing herself as her father strode into the arena.

Lord Daigo was every inch the iron warlord, his presence filling the space. He was tall, broad, and solid, as though he had been carved from the very stone that built the estate. His eyes were cold, sharp; his stare could pierce armor. He carried no weapon—he had never needed one. His mere presence was weapon enough.

“Ryu Kurogane,” Daigo called, his voice booming and carrying easily across the grounds, “today we will see if you truly belong in my house… or if I show you the door.” His words rang out like a judge’s sentence, his tone leaving no room for doubt about the stakes.

Ryu bowed, his voice steady. “Understood.”

Laughter rippled through the assembled Ayanami soldiers, their amusement at his expense obvious. Ryu ignored them, his focus unbroken.

Daigo raised a commanding hand. “Pick your opponent. Any of my men—your choice. Win, and I’ll acknowledge you. Lose—” He let a cold, mocking smile flicker across his lips, “—and we’ll all see things much clearer.”

Kaori tensed at his side. “Father—” she began, but Daigo’s glare silenced her instantly.

Ryu scanned the ranks of warriors. Many returned his gaze with open hostility, eager for the chance to test him, to put him in his place. A few wore smirks, certain he would choose the weakest among them and be sent packing regardless.

Instead, Ryu took a step forward, eyes unwavering, and pointed across the ring.

“I choose Lord Daigo.”

The arena froze. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then a collective gasp swept through the crowd.

Kaori’s eyes went wide. “Ryu—!” Her voice broke, disbelief and fear mingled.

Daigo’s eyes narrowed. He blinked in surprise, then a low, dangerous laugh rumbled from his chest. “You’re picking me?”

Ryu shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “You said to choose wisely. I don’t see anyone here stronger.”

He delivered the words so casually that his challenge felt almost courteous—a subtle insult veiled in politeness. Daigo’s amusement faded, replaced by a steely, calculating edge.

“Very well,” he growled, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s begin.”

The Clash

Daigo moved first—a blur of motion that belied his size. He closed the distance in an instant, his fist arcing down with enough force to shatter stone. Ryu twisted aside at the last possible moment, the ground exploding where he’d stood a heartbeat before.

Ryu ducked and slid back, then surged up with a lightning-fast kick aimed at Daigo’s midsection.

Daigo blocked it, his forearm unyielding, as though Ryu had struck a slab of granite.

“Fast,” Daigo said, his tone almost approving. “But speed alone won’t save you.”

He pressed the attack—moving with a speed and ferocity unnatural for a man of his build, unleashing a relentless barrage of crushing blows. Each strike was a promise of broken bones, every dodge a narrow miss. The air itself seemed to tremble with the force of his assault.

Ryu blocked what he could, deflecting strikes with skill and agility, but each impact reverberated through his bones. He was quick, but Daigo’s raw power was overwhelming, each attack battering away at his stamina, threatening to break him.

Kaori watched from the sidelines, her fists clenched white, lips pressed together. “He can’t keep this up forever…”

But then the rhythm of the fight changed.

Ryu’s stance shifted subtly, his breathing slowed, his gaze grew sharper—focused, calculating. He was no longer reacting; he was reading Daigo’s movements, anticipating, mapping every nuance of the warlord’s attacks. The crowd sensed the change, the undercurrent of tension growing.

Daigo threw another crushing punch, aimed to end it. Ryu leaned in, slipping inside the arc of the blow, and drove his palm into the crook of Daigo’s arm, striking a precise pressure point.

Daigo’s arm spasmed, numb for a split second.

Ryu seized the moment. He swept Daigo’s leg, pivoted, and with a practiced motion, flipped the warlord over his shoulder, slamming him into the dirt in one clean, decisive movement.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The arena was silent, the shock of what had happened hanging in the air.

Ryu stepped back, chest heaving, but his stance was steady. “Yield?” he asked, his voice respectful but firm.

Daigo lay on the ground, staring up at the sky in disbelief. The silence stretched, the outcome settling over the crowd.

At last, Daigo pushed himself to his feet. He was bruised, winded, but a slow, genuine grin broke across his face.

“Well struck,” he admitted, nodding once. “And reckless. If I hadn’t held back, you’d be the one lying in the dirt.”

Ryu shrugged, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Perhaps. But you didn’t.”

Kaori’s lips twitched, her face torn between horror at his audacity and pride at his victory.

Daigo reached out and clapped a heavy hand on Ryu’s shoulder—a gesture both of approval and warning.

“You can stay, outsider. For now.”

A murmur rippled through the assembled warriors, some surprised, others grudgingly impressed.

For the first time, the iron lord himself had given Ryu a measure of respect.

Kaori strode up to Ryu, her glare sharp and unblinking.

“You could have been killed,” she snapped, voice tight.

Ryu grinned at her, unrepentant. “You’re welcome.”

She rolled her eyes, but her words had lost their bite. Underneath, something had shifted—there was curiosity in her expression, a reluctant respect, maybe even the first flicker of something deeper, something neither of them dared name yet.

Ryu offered her a small, formal bow. “Anytime, Lady Ayanami.”

She turned away quickly, cheeks tinged with color.

Daigo caught the exchange and smirked, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Perhaps this marriage won’t be the disaster I expected after all.”

For the first time since setting foot on Ayanami land, Ryu felt the weight of suspicion lift, replaced by something like acceptance.

Yet beneath it, a sharper awareness settled—every warrior in the clan now had their eyes on him, and not all of them were friendly.

The real test, he realized, was only beginning.