As their journey wrapped up, the group stayed one last day in Japan to savor the experience before returning to the United States. The morning of their departure was a bittersweet one. Kenjiro, freshly released from the hospital, accompanied by Yoko and Kaito, joined Jake, Carter, Akane, and Luna at the airport to bid them farewell. Their trip had been unforgettable: from run-ins with bullies at Seiryu High over a limited-edition Mega Cat Gundam to encounters with Japan's most powerful Yakuza gang, the legendary Sword of Spirit, and ultimately witnessing the unexpected transformation of Kurokaze-kai into a legitimate business.

  Kenjiro approached Jake and Luna with a smile. "Best of luck finding the rest of the seven swords," he said. "I know the journey will be tough, but it’s time for young people like you to take the reins." He then turned to Jake with a mischievous glint. "And please, give my regards to your parents, especially your father. Remind him not to get too absorbed in baseball."

  Jake nodded, feeling ready for the journey ahead. Luna, however, was more pensive, struggling with the idea of involving Jake and the others in her quest for the swords. Their encounter with Kurokaze-kai had been intense, and she worried her mission might lead to more danger for her friends.

  Meanwhile, Carter turned to Yoko with a grin. "Hey, Yoko! As promised, here’s the Gundam for Pimiko." He handed her the box with the limited-edition figure. "I even left a note inside with my contact info. Maybe she’ll reach out to chat about our Gundam interests."

  Yoko accepted the box, smiling wryly. "I’ll pass it along, though… I can’t guarantee Pimiko will contact you. She’s mostly into cats, not… people." Carter just chuckled, not bothered in the slightest.

  The atmosphere softened as Jake and Yoko turned to each other and shared a hug. "Yoko, this trip has been unforgettable, and I can’t thank you enough for being an amazing host and for everything we’ve been through together these past few days."

  Yoko’s voice was soft as she replied, “Jake, I never expected any of this either. It’s been… something else.” They smiled warmly.

  Jake leaned in and whispered, "So, have you forgiven Kaito yet?" He shot a glance at Kaito, who was standing a little ways off, looking slightly uneasy.

  “I have forgiven him,” Yoko whispered back with a small smirk, “but he still needs a little reminder not to forget this.” Jake grinned at his cousin’s determination.

  With a glint of playful mischief, Jake turned to Kaito and called out, “Hey, Kaito! Work hard on winning back Yoko’s trust—and hey, maybe even her heart!”

  "Jake!" Yoko shouted, half-laughing, as Kaito looked back with a shy smile, both relieved and slightly unsure. The group’s laughter resonated through the terminal, a brief, joyful moment that softened the weight of parting.

  As the final boarding call echoed, Kenjiro gathered everyone for a last farewell. "Well, I suppose it’s time to say goodbye. Have a safe trip, everyone," he said warmly, his tone carrying a blend of pride and wistfulness. "Take care of yourselves, and keep looking out for each other."

  With heartfelt hugs and handshakes, Jake, Carter, Akane, and Luna turned toward the gate. They walked away not just with unforgettable memories but with the anticipation of the future adventures awaiting them. Their journey had changed each of them in different ways, strengthening bonds and igniting new hopes.

  In the sterile, monochrome confines of the prison visitation room, sat hunched and weary, separated from the outside world by cold glass. His appearance was a stark contrast to his former self, now fragile and somber in the drab orange of a prison jumpsuit. His once-proud silver hair, a symbol of intellectual refinement, hung limply around a face etched with sorrow and isolation. Gone was the pristine white laboratory coat that had marked him as a visionary at FuturForge Innovations; the scholar before was now a mere shadow of his former self.

  As the door on the other side of the glass clicked open, Elden raised his tired eyes, expecting perhaps an old colleague or even a former student. Instead, he was met with the figure of a stranger, a man who radiated an air of sophistication and quiet confidence. The man’s white suit was impeccably tailored, its jacket left open to reveal a sleek black shirt beneath—an intentional choice that added an approachable yet commanding touch to his appearance. Shoulder-length brown hair, stylishly tousled, framed a face marked by a cool, composed expression. A toothpick rested between his teeth, adding a subtle hint of mystery to his enigmatic presence. His dark green eyes, sharp and discerning, seemed to pierce through the glass, holding Elden’s gaze with an intensity that was both unsettling and magnetic.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” Elden’s voice, though dulled by confinement, held a faint echo of his former academic authority.

  The man in the white suit leaned forward, the visitor badge clipped to his jacket catching the light. His posture was both relaxed and commanding, as if he was entirely at ease in the dismal surroundings. “Professor Elden Thorne, it’s a pleasure to finally meet,” he began, his voice smooth, touched with the faint lilt of an Italian accent. “My name is .”

  Elden studied him, taken aback by the composed, almost regal demeanor of the man before him. Augustine continued, his dark green eyes unwavering. “I’ve reviewed the CCTV footage from the FuturForge R&D Lab. Quite the tale it tells,” he remarked, his tone measured and curious.

  Elden’s eyes narrowed, realizing with a jolt that Augustine knew about the fateful encounter—he knew about the swords.

  Augustine then paused deliberately, ensuring he held Professor Elden’s full attention before continuing. “My purpose here is to make you an offer,” he said smoothly. “A knowledgeable man like yourself would undoubtedly know more about the Seven Swords than anyone else, and it’s that knowledge I hope you’ll share with us. With your insight, I believe we can locate the swords.”

  Elden’s eyes narrowed slightly, his skepticism edged with a flicker of interest. “Mr. Salvatore, is it?” he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and caution. “What could an old academic like me possibly do from within these four walls? If I knew the swords’ whereabouts, I would have found them long ago.”

  Augustine gave a slight smile, twirling his toothpick as if contemplating his next words. “Let’s say I know certain people in authority who could facilitate an early release for you,” he said, leaning in. “My organization has a vested interest in the Seven Swords, Professor, and with your expertise guiding us, we’d have a real starting point. The reason you haven’t succeeded thus far is simple—you didn’t have the right resources. With my help, your quest for the Seven Swords could finally reach fruition.”

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Augustine’s tone shifted, his words taking on a sharper edge. “So, Professor, shall we discuss terms, or do I leave you to the mercy of these walls?” He watched Elden closely, confident the professor wouldn’t refuse such an enticing offer.

  Elden shifted in his seat, his interest fully piqued despite his earlier reservations. “From our first meeting, I can already tell you’re a man of influence,” he murmured, an unspoken respect in his voice. “I admit, I didn’t expect anyone would know so much or have this much pull. Very well, Mr. Salvatore,” he said, his voice steadier now, “let’s talk.”

  Augustine nodded appreciatively, satisfaction gleaming in his dark green eyes. “Then let’s begin. Soon enough, Professor, you’ll be on the outside once more.” They continued their discussion in earnest, an unspoken camaraderie taking shape. For Elden, it was a tantalizing opportunity—a second chance to pursue his life’s work. For Augustine, it was the next step in a carefully crafted plan, draped in charm and veiled ambition. As the guards signaled the end of the meeting, the two men stood, their hands unable to meet but their shared ambitions bridging the glass divide.

  “See you soon on the outside, Professor,” Augustine said, a satisfied glint in his eye.

  Forty years into the future, in the bleak, controlled atmosphere of the overlord's domain, rows of military soldiers stood in unison, their postures rigid, disciplined. High-ranking officers, however, paced anxiously near the time machine as technicians worked hurriedly to repair it. The overlord himself was absent, confident that his subordinates could handle the situation, though his trust only served to increase the officers' stress.

  The recent escape of the rebel, Luna, back into the past had shaken them deeply. Security had been deemed impenetrable; such a breach was unthinkable, and now the officers found themselves grappling with the implications. No one wanted to bear the brunt of the overlord’s wrath for this lapse, and each officer eyed the others warily, calculating how best to proceed.

  “How much longer until the repairs are complete?” one officer barked, his tone betraying his unease.

  “Very soon, sir,” replied a technician without looking up, his focus unwavering. “However, the machine can only transport one person back in time. We’re working on expanding its capacity, but for now, one person is all we can manage.”

  The officers fell silent, the weight of the decision pressing on them. The time machine had never been used before; its effects were uncertain, and the risks were unknown. But they were running out of options.

  “So, who do we send?” one officer murmured, his voice barely audible as he glanced around at his peers. Each officer remained still, unwilling to volunteer and risk the unknown dangers of the past. They had all earned their ranks through strategic thinking, but most preferred to delegate rather than take direct action, especially when the stakes were this high. As they exchanged tense glances, it was clear that none of them wanted to be the one chosen to face the mission's unknown dangers.

  As the officers stood in silent anticipation, ’s arrival brought a noticeable shift in the room's atmosphere. His mere presence commanded respect—and fear. His bright red, spiky hair seemed almost to blaze against the metallic hue of his suit, and his piercing red eyes crackled with a restrained fury. Clad in a sleek, metallic red suit that clung to his form with a deadly elegance, Kael was an image of lethal purpose.

  He glanced over the officers, rolling his eyes in disdain, his scorn for their lack of action evident. "Useless pieces of junk," he muttered, his voice carrying across the room with an unrestrained contempt that left the officers stiff and silent. Despite their higher ranks, no one dared to meet his gaze, much less challenge him—especially with his weapon in hand.

  Kael’s weapon, the double-bladed lightsaber, was as much a statement of his power as it was an instrument of deadly precision. When activated, each crimson blade extended to 3.3 feet, forming a 6.6-foot arc of formidable reach and fury. The weapon’s hilt was metallic silver with black accents, futuristic yet ominous, reflecting the bleak authority of the world he served. With its versatile ergonomic grips, Kael could switch fluidly between offensive and defensive stances, adapting with ease to any combat situation.

  “The time machine is ready! We’re set to send one person now,” the technician announced, looking expectantly toward the officers for confirmation. But the officers' eyes all turned to Kael without hesitation. It was clear who would undertake this mission. Kael’s lips curled into a sinister smile as he gazed at the monitor displaying Luna Estrella's image—his prey.

  “Very well,” he replied, his voice a dangerous whisper filled with twisted amusement, “I’ll bring back this little rebel myself.” He stepped forward, gaze fixed on the time machine, anticipation gleaming in his eyes as he prepared to hunt down Luna in the past, savoring the thought of the chase to come.

  "Very well," the general responded, motioning towards the imposing structure of the time machine. "Step in now, and we are sending you to the past."

  As Kael approached the machine, his stride was calm and measured, each step resonating with the silent promise of impending confrontation. He paused at the threshold, turning to give one final look at the assembled military personnel. His smile widened, not out of joy but as a chilling prelude to the havoc he was about to unleash.

  “Please step forward,” the technician instructed, gesturing Kael toward the towering structure of the time machine. "Step in now, and you’ll be transported to the past.” Kael complied, striding confidently into the chamber. He paused just before entering fully, turning to give the assembled military personnel a final, lingering look. His smile broadened, not from joy, but with a sinister anticipation—a silent promise of the chaos he intended to unleash.

  "Time to rewrite history," he murmured, his voice almost lost beneath the hum of the machine powering up. The glow intensified, bathing him in a swirling vortex of light, yet Kael remained unfazed as the temporal maelstrom enveloped him, undeterred by the unknown as it began to pull him into the past.

  As the machine completed the transport, the room settled into silence, and the officers and technicians exchanged glances of subdued confidence and relief. They knew the formidable skill Kael possessed; he was more than capable of handling this mission. Now, the future—and perhaps the past—rested in the ruthless hands of Kael Z-on.

  In the quiet of the night, the ruins of the Kurokaze-kai headquarters lay still and abandoned, a graveyard of twisted steel and concrete shrouded in silence. The site was cordoned off, a solemn reminder of the recent chaos, with nothing left but rubble and the remnants of broken katanas, scattered personal belongings, and shattered dreams. The authorities had already sifted through the wreckage, taking away anything of value, leaving the crumbled remains in limbo, awaiting further action.

  , drawn by an inexplicable curiosity, wandered past the area, unable to resist stepping over the barriers to explore the ruins for himself. He’d heard the stories of Kazuo Mori’s final stand and was intrigued by the mystery of the leader’s presumed demise, though no trace of Kazuo’s body had been found. The twisted wreckage around him seemed hauntingly still, but Reiji couldn’t shake the feeling that something valuable or hidden might remain, something overlooked by the authorities.

  His footsteps echoed in the empty space as he scoured the debris, lifting abandoned items, broken swords, and dust-covered keepsakes, tossing them aside when they proved uninteresting. As he reached the center of the collapse, where Kazuo had supposedly fallen, a glimmer caught his eye—a subtle gleam of polished steel amid the ruin. Half-buried under concrete and rebar, untouched by the devastation around it, lay an immaculate katana.

  Compelled by a strange attraction, Reiji made his way to the sword, each step intensifying his sense of urgency. He crouched down and extended his hand, fingers brushing the hilt, when the air around him suddenly thrummed with energy. In that instant, the katana sprang to life, its blade alight with a spectral green aura that dispelled the shadows and cast an eerie glow over the broken ground.

  The Sword of Spirit had chosen Reiji as its new master. The aura bathed him in an otherworldly radiance as power surged through his veins, filling him with a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt before. Standing amidst the rubble, the green light illuminating his face, Reiji Haruka had unknowingly stepped into the legacy of one of the seven legendary swords—the newly chosen bearer of the Sword of Spirit.

  End of Japan Arc.

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