“Welcome back, Lady of the East,” one of them said. The title had long followed her—born from the east where the sun rises, her name echoing the divine goddess of the sun itself.
“I want to see Shogun. Where is he?” Amaterasu asked, her voice calm but commanding.
“He goes to the Southeast island several days ago,” the guard replied.
Amaterasu gave a single nod of understanding and strode past them into the palace. Several Mytos accompanied her, forming a respectful escort as the gates closed behind.
“And what about that insolent, is he here?” she asked again without turning.
The guards exchanged uneasy glances. “Lord Susanoo is meditating upon the mountain,” one finally admitted.
She smirked faintly. “Tell him to come at once. I have a task for him.”
At her word, the Mytos scattered swiftly to deliver the message. Amaterasu had been away from Takamagahara for many months, and the palace felt strangely quiet upon her return.
She shed her kimono and entered the cold spring behind the castle. As her body touched the water, the pool itself began to boil, steam rising in thick waves. She leaned back against the stone edge, listening to the rustle of bamboo chimes and the soft plucking of strings played by her attendants. For a moment, she allowed herself to close her eyes.
She had wished to discuss all of her burdens, yet with the Shogun away, the conversation would have to wait. The weight of duty pressed upon her, but the embrace of the hot spring dulled the sharpness of her thoughts.
Meanwhile, the Mytos reached the mountain peak where Susanoo, the Storm Samurai, sat in meditation. He was revered as a warrior of unparalleled might, the member of Regal Vanguard, and pride of the Colosseum, his presence both wild and feared. The guardians drew lots, unwilling to be the one who disturbed his trance.
The youngest of their number was chosen. With trembling steps, he approached from behind, raising a hesitant hand toward the warrior’s shoulder.
The instant his fingers brushed the fabric, Susanoo’s eyes snapped open. His long black hair rose as if seized by a tempest, lightning crackling from his body. A deafening thunderclap split the air as the boy was hurled backward by the force of a divine storm.
The young guardian was fortunate enough to flee in time, scrambling back to the others with his heart still pounding. Susanoo rose from the ground, stretching until his joints cracked like thunder rolling across the mountains. He yawned, then slowly turned toward the trembling Mytos.
“That fiery woman sent you, isn’t it?” he asked, his grin sharp as lightning.
The guardians remained silent, their bodies stiff with fear. Their panic still lingered in the air like the echo of a storm. Susanoo let out a loud, mocking laugh, the sound grating and full of mischief. He offered a half-hearted apology for nearly striking them down, though his tone betrayed no real remorse.
“Well? Speak!” he barked, this time his voice firm and commanding.
One among them finally gathered enough courage to step forward. “Madam said she has a task for you, Lord Susanoo.”
At once, a broad smile spread across Susanoo’s face. His eyes gleamed as though he could already taste the battle that awaited him. “At last! A command to fight!” he roared toward the sky.
Without another word, he dashed down the mountain with reckless speed, the wind howling in his wake. The Mytos followed reluctantly, careful to keep their distance; none of them wished to be caught too close to the storm he carried within him.
Inside the palace, Amaterasu had finished cleansing herself. Her attendants dressed her in layers of silk, adorning her hair with combs of jade and gold. Yet the Goddess hardly needed their aid, her body and hair dried instantly from the heat radiating off her own skin.
Moments later, Susanoo stormed into the chamber without hesitation. He flung open the doors so violently that every attendant inside gasped in shock.
“Tell!” he shouted, his fists clenched in anticipation. “Who dare to challenge me?”
Amaterasu’s expression hardened. Without so much as a word, she raised her hand and loosed a blast of burning flame into his chest. The force hurled Susanoo backward through the wall, sending dust and shards of wood scattering.
“Get out!” she commanded, her voice sharp as fire itself.
Susanoo lay sprawled on the courtyard floor, the front of his robe scorched but his body entirely unharmed. He did not rise. Instead, he folded his arms behind his head, staring up at the evening sky now burning orange.
“What a beautiful sky” he muttered lazily, as though nothing had happened.
Soon after, Amaterasu emerged. She was resplendent in a white kimono embroidered with flames, her presence radiating divine authority. She pointed toward Susanoo, who still lounged idly on the ground.
“If he refuses to stand, carry him,” she ordered the Mytos.
“By all means,” Susanoo replied without moving, his grin returning. “I’ve no desire to walk anyway.”
The Mytos froze, eyes darting away from Amaterasu’s piercing gaze. Not one of them wished to meet her eyes or to be the first to touch the troublesome storm god.
The Mytos exchanged nervous glances, none daring to lay a hand on Susanoo. To carry him would be to invite chaos, and none wished to test the god’s temper. Amaterasu sighed, her patience thinning, and approached her brother where he lounged on the ground. Lowering herself beside him, she spoke softly but firmly.
“Why must you always act like a child?” she asked.
Susanoo smirked without turning his gaze from the sky. “Must a god explain every of his action?”
Then he shifted, his tone sharpening with anticipation. “So tell me, who dare to challenge me this time?”
Amaterasu’s eyes narrowed. “No one, the council has not sent you to initiate war. They want you to observe. Reports to me about mystical creatures that sold illegally in intergalactic markets. You can only fight if the situation out of control.”
Susanoo scoffed at the word. “Observe? You send me to watchover?” His laugh was sharp and dismissive.
Amaterasu ignored his tone and continued. “These creatures, especially those bound to the Elements—are growing in greater numbers now that the Commonfolk have decreased. They are not hiding anymore, so we must protect them.”
She let her words linger, heavy with meaning. “But though their numbers grow, so too does the danger. Hunters among the Commonfolk, now prey upon them. It is forbidden. From my deepest heart I want them to punished them by death.”
“I will not let them rule this realm, for eternity” the words is very bold.
The Storm God stretched lazily, his grin returning. “Strange, isn’t it? Other factions watch over creatures with genius minds. Yet we are charged with beasts, that cannot even talk to us. What honor is there in guarding the witless?”
Amaterasu’s gaze sharpened, her voice rising with heat. “Do not underestimate your responsibility. Many of them hold the power to restore what the world has lost. Their strength represent balance of nature itself.”
“Oh, you mean the Thunderbirds?” Susanoo leaned on his elbow, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Those winged sparks that help me summon storms, I could already create it alone?”
Amaterasu snapped back without hesitation. “You cannot be everywhere at once, Susanoo. Without them, you are only one storm, not a thousand.”
For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by the distant murmur of the Mytos who dared not interrupt. The tension between the siblings hung like fire against thunderclouds, ready to clash again at any breath.
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Susanoo had grown weary of endless arguments. To leave the castle at once was far better than to waste breath in futile debate.
“Bring me my armor,” he commanded. The Mytos servants scattered at once, returning swiftly with gleaming plates of steel and lacquer.
Under the fading sky, the storm god was dressed piece by piece into the regalia of war. A brilliant samurai cuirass of polished blue, trimmed with crimson and silver, encased his form. Over his face they set the crimson menpo, carved in the savage visage of a fanged Oni. Finally, Kusanagi rested in his hand.
He glanced once at his sister, then spoke in a voice edged with steel:
“If I am discovered, there will be no choice left but battle.”
Amaterasu did not answer. She only followed him to the castle’s gate, watching as his figure marched into the dying sun. Step by step, the storm warrior dwindled into the horizon, until a flash of lightning swallowed him whole. When the heavens cleared, he was gone.
The Fire Goddess lingered for a breath, then turned inward. The corridors of the palace carried her gently to the long stairway that rose like a silver spine into the high chambers. The night air was cool, perfumed by blooming tuberose that whispered of forgotten serenity. As she climbed, Amaterasu unfolded a handful of letters and poems, penned in the shogun’s fervent hand, scribbles of admiration for beauty, immortalized in ink.
Beneath the star’s chosen glow,
a fragile sprout begins to grow.
Each shimmer grants a secret might,
till dawn awakes its first sunlight.
She exhaled a laugh, small and weary.
“Why does this man waste his time on such foolish things…” she murmured. Yet in truth, the words—however simple—had offered her more comfort than all the rhetoric of the day.
Her solace was broken by the hurried clatter of boots. An elven guard, breathless and drenched in sweat, stumbled up the three hundred steps, nearly collapsing before her.
“Madam!” he gasped.
“What is it?” she asked sharply.
“The livestock bound for the Mainland, they’ve been attacked. By… Ushi-Oni.”
Amaterasu’s eyes burned. That cursed beast. Can I at least having a rest? she thought. The elf flinched under her glare as she crushed the shogun’s letter in her palm, letting fire consume it to ash.
“Are you well, my lady?” the guard stammered.
“I am. Burn incense in my chamber,” she ordered. With a burst of flame she soared skyward, trailing fire across the sky. Behind her, the elf bowed and swept the charred ash from the steps she had scorched.
"What is wrong with the Abyss? Monsters pour out like a plague. Is Lucretius so lax in his duty, or is Darkon simply too weak to leash them?" The goddess fumed inwardly as she cut across the clouds.
The far pastures unfolded below her, littered with corpses of cows. Their hides were torn with wounds, jagged, and sickening. Amaterasu descended in a blaze, kneeling by the fallen animal. With her fire she seared the gashes of those yet alive, burning rot from their flesh and sparing them infection.
She walked on, palm aglow like a torch, tracking the demon’s path across the fields. Each step revealed another scar, another broken creature. The trail led her to a cliff, jagged and black, falling into the mists of a cursed swamp.
Once, long ago, sorcerer faction had sealed that swamp. But wards wither when left untended. Forgotten spells rot, and the Abyss seeps through. Now its monsters wandered free.
Without hesitation, without fear, the Goddess of Flame descended alone into the mire.
They said the marsh was one of the doors to the earth’s hollow belly. Spirits without form wandered there freely, their bodies of smoke, their faces blurred and shifting. The air was thick, damp, and suffocating—an endless labyrinth where mortals would surely lose themselves to madness.
But Amaterasu pressed on, her focus fixed solely upon the Ushi-Oni’s trail. The spirits whispered as she passed, their voices like rust scraping bone.
“You are unworthy.” “False goddess.” “That power should not be yours.” “Without strength, you are nothing.”
The Fire Goddess ignored them. She walked in silence until she reached the yawning mouth of a cave, from which the stench of blood seeped like a fog. She cast a sphere of flame into the hollow, light rippling against stone. The fire revealed depth without end—and stirred life.
From the shadows, monstrous bats surged outward. They swarmed toward her, shrieking, but her aura ignited. Fire wrapped her body like a mantle, and every wing that dared brush against her erupted into ash.
Then came the sound—wet, guttural chewing, loud as stone grinding beneath rivers. She advanced and found him: the Ushi-Oni, crouched low, tearing into the corpses of nine cattle.
The Ushi-Oni was a grotesque fusion of ox and demon, its spider-like limbs, jagged horns, and bone spines wrapped in patches of black fur and scales that glistened like oil under moonlight. Its gaping maw dripped blood and carrying the stench of carrion and curses from the Abyss.
“It seems someone has no manners,” Amaterasu said softly.
The beast raised its hideous head, bellowing. The sound was vile, ragged—yet it reminded the goddess that she, too, had long withheld her voice. Perhaps it is time, she thought. Perhaps my anger has waited long enough.
The demon charged. With a gesture, Amaterasu unleashed a surge of green fire. It struck the Oni, enveloping him—yet burned nothing. Confused, the monster roared again and pressed forward.
The goddess stood still, clearing her throat. Then she screamed.
Her cry shook the cavern walls. The green fire rekindled, blooming across the Oni’s hide. Slowly, inexorably, it consumed him—from back to flesh, from flesh to bone. His shrieks rose to meet hers, their voices entwined in a grotesque duet.
This was her art, her curse: The Ballad of Eternal Torment Flame. So long as her scream endured, the fire would not cease. At last it reached his skull, igniting bone until nothing remained. When silence fell, there was no corpse. Only char and echo.
Amaterasu exhaled, a single word leaving her lips.
“At last.”
The cry had carried her fury and exhaustion. Now emptiness lingered. She left the hollow without so much as touching the monster she had destroyed, her steps heavy with futility.
The wandering spirits still lingered, whispering curses. Yet this time she froze. A voice called her name—not the hiss of phantoms, but something else.
“Hana… why did you leave us, its very hot......here”
The words came faint, trembling, from the dark thickets.
Amaterasu stiffened. Her eyes widened, every hair along her neck rising. Slowly, rigidly, she turned toward the sound.
But instead of searching, she ignited her fire and fled the swamp, face pale, throat tight. Once she had risen high enough into the night sky, she spat the words between shallow breaths:
“I will never enter that filthy swamp again.”
She returned to the castle courtyard after gone for two hours. Orders were given to the Mytos: at first light, they would count the livestock lost to the night.
The Fire Goddess ascended to her chamber in haste. She sent a transmission to Cygnus Spellbane, commanding his sorcerers to reseal the swamp at once. No reply came. Silence was his only answer.
So Amaterasu dismissed it. She let the incense burn in her chamber, filling the air with soft fragrance. At last, she allowed herself to sink into sleep—though the echo of that voice still lingered in the hollow of her mind.
The next morning, Amaterasu strolled through the castle gardens, scattering feed for her phoenix. The bird’s radiant wings beat against the morning air, shimmering in gold and crimson, and each time it rose from ashes anew, the goddess found herself quietly entranced.
“Good morning, Madam,” an elven Mytos bowed, breathless, scroll in hand. He reported the losses: more than a dozen cattle. Amaterasu waved him off with little concern.
“Leave the report in the Shogun’s chamber,” she said.
The elf hesitated. “He… has not returned yet, my lady.”
Amaterasu sighed but dismissed him. Her hand reached once more for the phoenix, which flared and dissolved in a dance of ash, reborn in her palm.
Then, the castle bells tolled three times. Their peal shook through the halls, a solemn signal that a deity had returned. The Mytos guards rushed from the keep to form their ranks, lining the pathway in rigid formation.
Amaterasu’s lips curved into a smile. At last… the Shogun has returned, that what her thoughts.
The gates swung wide. “Welcome home, Lord Susanoo!” shout the captain of the guard.
Her smile vanished, replaced by indifference. Not the one she had been waiting for. She sat down by the courtyard steps, her joy withering into silence.
Susanoo entered like a storm given flesh, grinning broadly, his blade raised high as though parading his triumph. He passed his sister and caught her brooding gaze.
“What now?” he asked, his voice thunderous yet cheerful.
Amaterasu did not answer. Instead, she asked coolly, “Why was your mission finished so fast?”
Susanoo laughed, explaining that his foes had been unworthy—mere weapon masters wielding relics of Grade C, powerless before his might. He gestured, and a Mytos brought forth a chest. Within lay three blood-stained relics, trophies taken from his vanquished enemies.
Amaterasu’s eyes narrowed at the sight. “Why this things tainted with blood?” she demanded.
Susanoo shrugged. “I freed the captive beasts before their transport could set sail. Then I destroyed the syndicate.”
Her hand froze upon the relic she had lifted from the chest. She turned sharply. “Destroyed?”
The Thunder God stripped the plates from his arms, stretching as he took his seat. A Mytos poured him a cup of Sake, which he downed in a single draught. His grin never faltered.
“Like I said. From their leaders to their lowest dogs, from their cargo to their fortress—everything.”
Amaterasu hurled the relic to the floor with a clatter, her flames flickering in her eyes. “Your mission is to watch, to report. Nothing more. And you slaughtered them?”
“They attack first,” Susanoo replied, leaning forward with a sneer. “What do you want me to do? Stand still and let them beat me?”
His arrogance reverberated in the hall, the Mytos attendants stiff as statues. None dared move, their breaths caught between the storm and the flame.
The intergalactic port lay in ruin—half of its structures shattered, hangars split in two, and transport ships smoldering under the wreckage. Though the syndicate had been eradicated and the mythic beasts and contraband liberated, the damage was catastrophic. One of the Six Grand Ports of the Realm would remain inoperable for months, the cost of repair immense.
“First of all, why did they attack you first?” Amaterasu’s voice burned hotter than her flames.
“I don’t know. The moment I stepped like a few meters from main gate, they just attack.” Susanoo’s tone was sharp, his pride unyielding.
“Idiot! Do you understand the essence of espionage?” Her fury swelled, flames wreathing her body.
“If this was truly a spy’s mission,” Susanoo thundered back, lightning crackling along his armor, “then why send a Vanguard and not a Cryptic?”
Their divine auras clashed—fire against thunder, scorching heat against electric tempest. The Mytho attendants collapsed to their knees, begging both gods to restrain themselves.
Neither yielded, their eyes locked, wills colliding.
Then—footsteps, hurried, desperate. A Mytos stumbled into the hall, drenched in cold sweat, clutching a transmitter that pulsed with light. The ringing cut through the storm of tension, forcing both deities to still their wrath. Their auras faded, though their breaths remained sharp and heavy.
The Mytos extended the device toward Amaterasu. Upon its surface, the visage of Cygnus Spellbane flickered into being. The Sorcerer Supreme himself was calling.
Amaterasu raised her hand sharply. “You quiet. I will speak.”
Susanoo folded his arms, silent but seething, standing at his sister’s side as she activated the device.
The chamber filled with a voice deep and resonant, echoing with the weight of centuries.
“Report.”