The Secrets of Death [P]

Ashborn regarded Stein’s plea for Kitiara with a cool, measured indifference. His voice, clipped and dismissive, cut through the air. "Yes, yes, you beg for her safety. I’ll promise this—so long as you keep your tricks in check, she’ll remain unharmed. Consider that generous." The words were calculated, meant to sound tough, though a flicker of unease stirred beneath his calm. Even in this diminished, resurrected form, Stein’s presence was not to be underestimated. Ashborn knew better than to grow complacent. He’d seen how close Stein had come to slipping free, despite all of Ayato’s careful preparation. One misstep, and they'd regret it.

His thoughts drifted to Kobiyashi, the boy now gone, having paid the ultimate price for his father’s crimes. Ashborn felt a grim kinship with him, a thread of shared fate connecting their stories. The Yamaguchi name, once proud, had been stained by their allegiance to the false Kage during the rebellion. Ashborn, too, had come perilously close to a similar end. Were it not for the mercy of the Old Kage and the calculated shield Ayato had placed over him, he might’ve been executed for his family’s betrayal. Kobiyashi hadn’t been as fortunate, and the same shadow loomed over Kitiara. She, like him, bore the weight of another’s sins, and Ashborn knew too well the bitter sting of that burden.

He looked back at Stein, eyes cold and unyielding. "I’ll tell you what I told the Iron Tank before you," he said, gesturing toward the marked stone floor where the last summoning had left its scars—Ibari’s echo still faintly visible. "Whatever you were in life, this is my realm now. Here, you are bound to me. In life, you might’ve destroyed me, but now you move at my command." The finality of his words hung in the air, sharp and undeniable. Ashborn understood this was a test of wills as much as anything else, and he would give Stein no more power than what the ritual had already grudgingly granted.

(WC: 333, TWC: 6490)