The hideout was silent, save for the faint crackling of Jogo’s embers and the distant dripping of water from the ceiling. Kenjaku sat with an air of patience, watching as Mahito idly toyed with his own fingers, twisting them into grotesque shapes out of sheer boredom. Choso leaned against the wall, arms crossed, while Hanami remained as still as the earth itself.

Then, it happened.

The energy shift was immediate—a presence unfamiliar, cutting through the thick, cursed air like a blade. It wasn’t subtle, wasn’t careful. Whoever it was, they had just walked into the lion’s den.

Jogo reacted first, rising from his seat with fire sparking at his fingertips. “Who dares—”

The figure stood at the entrance, frozen for just a moment, as if processing the impossible scene before them. Eyes flickered from Mahito’s grin, to Choso’s unblinking stare, to Kenjaku’s almost amused expression.

A sorcerer.

Mahito let out a delighted laugh. “Ohhh, what do we have here?” He took a step forward, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You lost, little sorcerer?”

Choso’s posture tensed, analyzing the situation. Hanami remained still, but a shift in the air spoke of growing hostility.

Kenjaku, on the other hand, merely smiled. “Now, now,” he mused, standing with an eerie calmness. “It’s not every day we get such… unexpected guests.”

Jogo snarled, flames intensifying. “No need for conversation. Let’s just burn them alive.”

The sorcerer didn’t move, but the weight of their presence pressed against the air. Mahito’s grin widened. “Oh? You’re not running?” His voice was a taunt, but there was something like excitement in his tone.

Kenjaku studied them, curiosity flickering behind his eyes.