From the back lines, Li Naomasa, resplendent in his iconic red armor and crowned with the horns of his kabuto, shouted orders, his voice a booming command that cut through the clamor of the battlefield. His men, disorganized and wavering, hesitated, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. His steed, a powerful, blooded warhorse, galloped through the chaos, carrying him swiftly across the blood-soaked earth. Naomasa's eyes, sharp as ever, scanned the battlefield for any sign of a shift, any glimpse of opportunity—or threat.

But then, his gaze froze. His blood ran cold as he locked eyes on something—or rather, someone—at the front lines.

At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him. A dark shape, moving too fast, too powerfully. But no. The woman—or whatever she was—was real. Her unnatural strength, the way she tore through the Eastern forces like they were nothing, was enough to make even Li Naomasa hesitate. His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe.

"What in the name of the gods…" he muttered under his breath, his eyes wide with disbelief. His men around him were shouting, urging him to move forward, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the woman who had just ripped the armor off a samurai as if it were paper. The other soldiers were already retreating, eyes filled with terror. The thick, acrid smoke of battle only seemed to make her silhouette sharper, more ominous.

"Is she… a demon?" Naomasa's voice was barely a whisper, his hand gripping the reins of his horse so tightly his knuckles were white.

One of his lieutenants, equally stunned, pulled his horse alongside Naomasa's. "My lord, what is that thing? It's... impossible! No one can do that!"

Across the battlefield, Yagi Toshimichi was locked in a deadly contest of strength and skill. The yari in his hands slammed down once more against the sturdy armor of an opposing samurai, the spear's bamboo shaft flexing dangerously under the sheer force of his strike. Sparks flew as the tip scraped against lacquered plates, but the armor held—for now.

The samurai lunged forward, aiming to close the distance, but Yagi was quicker. He sidestepped and redirected the momentum, his hands snapping to the samurai's wrist and shoulder. In a single fluid motion, Yagi twisted his opponent's arm while pivoting his body, leveraging the samurai's weight against him. The enemy's feet left the ground as Yagi's throw sent him crashing to the dirt with bone-jarring force.

Before the stunned samurai could recover, Yagi pressed his knee into his opponent's chest, pinning him in place. The yari clattered to the ground as Yagi's hand flicked downward, releasing the hidden blade from his wrist. He drove the blade into the exposed gap between the samurai's armor plates at the neck. The steel bit deep into flesh and bone, eliciting a choked gasp before the man went still.

But then, Yagi's eyes flickered toward the horizon, and he froze.

Out in the distance, beyond the chaos of clashing steel and the cries of war, something—or someone—moved with unnatural force and grace. Dust swirled in the air around her, a figure cleaving through the battlefield with terrifying ease. The bodies of fallen warriors littered the ground in her wake, scattered like discarded dolls.

Yagi's breath caught as he watched her tear a samurai's armor apart with a single pull, hurling the man aside as if he weighed nothing. The figure strode forward, a mix of brutal strength and cold precision, her movements more like a storm than a soldier.

"What in the world…" Yagi whispered to himself, gripping his yari tighter as unease rippled through him.

Yagi watched, his pulse quickening, as the strange figure—her posture unyielding and her movements like that of a predator—locked eyes with Li Naomasa from across the battlefield. There was a brief moment of stillness, and Yagi could see Naomasa's expression change. The fierce warrior who had commanded armies, whose very presence sent fear into the hearts of his enemies, now looked… unnerved. A shiver ran down Naomasa's spine as if the very sight of her had shattered his confidence.

Yagi didn't hesitate. His hand shot to his belt, drawing the tanegashima pistol. His finger squeezed the trigger, and the loud report of the firearm shattered the air.

But the bullet did nothing.

It was as if she hadn't even noticed it, the shot pinging harmlessly off the air around her as if it were nothing more than a mere annoyance. The figure's stance shifted, her dark eyes slowly turning toward Yagi.

"Well now… that was rude," she called out, her voice carrying over the noise of the battle, the tone casual and almost amused. She took a slow step forward, then another, as if she were merely strolling in the midst of chaos. "Was that supposed to hurt? 'Cause it sure didn't."

Yagi's blood ran cold as Saki's eyes never wavered from him. There was no fear, no hesitation in her step—just a slow, deliberate march toward him. And the worst part? It was as if she was entirely unbothered by the chaos unfolding around her.

Yagi's heart pounded, but before he could react further, a deep, commanding voice rang out behind him. It was Naomasa.

"Kumi! Fire at will!"

Without hesitation, a platoon of tanegashima gunners formed up, their muskets aimed and their fingers on the triggers. They fired in a coordinated barrage, the deafening roar of gunfire shaking the air.

"Oh, cute," she drawled, glancing back at the gunners just for a second, her eyes still gleaming with that same primal hunger. "Looks like a bunch of you wanna play too. Alright, fine."

She raised a hand, her fingers curling like a conductor preparing to orchestrate a symphony of destruction. With an almost bored flick of her wrist, the earth seemed to tremble as the air around her thickened. Her wolf spirits—massive, ethereal beasts—materialized from the shadows, their glowing eyes blazing with the same fiery determination as their matriarch. The spirits swarmed the gunners, their forms barely tangible, their presence crushing.

The soldiers of the Western forces, in awe and fear, watched as these phantom wolves, embodiments of the Keiga Family, bounded toward the tanegashima gunners with terrifying speed. The gunfire had no effect on the ethereal beasts. One wolf tore through the line of gunmen, its jaws snapping shut around a soldier, pulling him screaming into the air before vanishing into the shadows.

Another wolf, a massive creature of pure ferocity, crashed into a second group of soldiers. Its claws raked through their formations, shredding armor and bodies alike. Panic rippled through the gunners, their bravery evaporating as the wolves closed in.

Saki turned back to Yagi, her grin widening. "There. Much better," she muttered, as if having made a simple decision to clear the riff-raff out of her way. She looked at Yagi with a relaxed tilt of her head, still unfazed. "Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I was gonna teach you something."

She cracked her knuckles lazily, still not breaking her stride. "You know, you shoot at someone, and you think that's gonna be the end of it, but then you get people like me, right? It's like, wow, you actually did try something. But guess what? It wasn't even close."

Her voice was almost playful now, though there was an edge to it. She wasn't angry; she wasn't even frustrated. She was just having fun. "So what, you want a fight or something? 'Cause if you're not gonna keep up, you might want to run off now before my wolves come back for dessert."

The battlefield, already tense with the clash of steel, now seemed to freeze for a moment, all eyes falling on Saki as her monstrous spirits tore into the tanegashima gunners. She had no regard for anything around her except for the man she was now facing. And she was enjoying it.

She gave him a lazy wink. "Let's see if you can keep up, yeah?"