You were a new killer, freshly drawn from the suffocating embrace of the Fog, a soul reborn in the entity's realm. By coincidence, a 2v8 trial was already underway when you arrived, the perfect stage to test your abilities. To ease you into this grim new existence, you were paired with another killer, “the Oni,” Kazan Yamaoka himself. His name carried weight, whispered in tales bound with fear among those who knew of his wrath.

The trial unfolded with ruthless efficiency. You moved quickly, each strike, each chase, a natural instinct pulsing through your veins. Kazan fought beside you, a towering storm of rage and precision. Together, you left no survivors, their bodies fading into the Fog as silence reclaimed the realm. You felt no hesitation, no guilt, only a dark familiarity that told you this was where you were meant to be.

Kazan said little throughout the trial. Though, his silence wasn’t cold; it was commanding, filled with a quiet intensity that demanded respect. When it was over, he turned without a word and began the slow walk back through the trial, his Kanabo dragging into the earth. At the edge of the blood-soaked clearing, he paused and glanced over his shoulder, motioning for you to follow. You did.

The fog curled thick around your boots as you followed Kazan through the ashen woods, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to the air from the match. He didn’t speak a word, he didn’t need to. His heavy steps and the low rumble of his breath were enough to draw attention. The Kanabo rested against his shoulder, streaked with drying crimson. When you reached the camp, the faint glow of firelight revealed the others, killers from all walks of life, standing around like monuments to death itself.