What follows

The days that followed Mileena’s disappearance cast a pall over the imperial palace unlike any left by war. Battles produced casualties, funerals, and names to mourn. Defeat, however bitter, at least offered something tangible upon which grief could settle. Mileena had left them with none of that. No body and no certainty. Not even a clear explanation that could be given to the hundreds of people who had awakened to discover that one of Outworld’s empresses had vanished during the night.

And where certainty was absent, rumours multiplied. They began quietly among servants carrying breakfast through the eastern wing, then passed into the barracks, kitchens, courtyards, and guard posts.

By the second day, whispers had become arguments.

Some claimed Mileena had abandoned her duties after an argument with Kitana. Others insisted Kitana had struck first and driven her sister from the palace. A few, less charitable voices, wondered aloud whether Mileena had finally succumbed to the violent instincts so many had always expected from someone bearing Tarkatan features. Others answered that accusation with fury, pointing instead toward Kitana and asking whether the Edenian queen had used her position to remove a rival claimant to the throne.

Then came the more dangerous speculations. Had Fenrir chosen one sister over another? Had Mileena been stripped of her title? Had the imperial union already begun fracturing from within? Was her departure connected to the war?

No one had answers. That did not stop anyone from inventing them.

The exact truth of what had happened within the throne room that night had originally belonged to only three people: Kitana, Mileena and Skarlet. One was gone. The other two had spent the following hours wishing, for very different reasons, that they could erase what had transpired.

By the time Fenrir and Jade returned from the Edenian desert, that circle of knowledge had widened to the most trusted members of the crown. The briefing was held behind closed doors. No servants, petitioners or officers were allowed in. Only those whose positions made ignorance more dangerous than knowledge.

Fenrir and Jade stood near the foot of the throne. Carkas remained farther to one side, his arms folded, crossed on his chest, every inch the marshal despite the tension that tightened his jaw. Ermac stood beside him, eerily still, while Syzoth occupied the opposite side of the chamber. Barong remained at the centre, serving less as a witness than as an adjudicator.

Skarlet, ever the calmest of them all yet now staggered upon her choice, stood several paces before them. Kitana, on the other hand, sat upon the throne. Concerned. Fenrir…Fenrir had not spoken once.

Barong's account came to its end beneath that silence. The crow-master paced slowly as he delivered the final details, his hands folded neatly behind his back. His voice possessed none of the outrage circulating throughout the palace. Barong treated emotion as he treated any rumour; as something worth acknowledging, but never on which judgment should be surrendered.

“Thus, Skarlet entered the confrontation with incomplete information,” he concluded. “She found Empress Kitana disarmed, upon the ground, while Empress Mileena remained standing above her with both sais drawn. Under those circumstances, intervention was neither irrational nor contrary to her assignment.” His dark gaze shifted toward Skarlet. “What followed, however, is more difficult to defend.”

Skarlet's shoulders tightened at the crow-master's words. She did not raise her eyes. Barong continued. “Once Kitana regained her footing and ordered Skarlet to release her, the immediate threat had changed. Skarlet chose instead to restrain the Empress while Mileena opened her portal to flee.” His tone did not sharpen; it did not need to. “Duty requires judgment, Skarlet. Otherwise, it is merely obedience wearing a nobler name.”

Those words cut deeper than accusation would have. Skarlet looked down at her hands. She remembered the blood coating one of them. Mileena's blood. Her empress. She had reacted exactly as she had been taught to react all her life. Identify the threat. Protect the assigned target. Strike first enough that there would never be a second opportunity. And on this occasion, she knew why she had done it.

Once, Shao Kahn had rewarded such instincts.

For months, Skarlet had convinced herself that she had changed. Fenrir had shown her that loyalty could be chosen instead of demanded. That affection need not be purchased through usefulness. That she could be more than the weapon another ruler pointed toward his enemies. Yet, when the moment came, and confusion replaced certainty, she had fallen back upon the oldest lesson she knew. Obey and protect. Eliminate the target, if necessary.

Perhaps she had mistaken choosing whom to serve for learning how to choose at all. The thought made her stomach twist.

Kitana watched her from the throne. There was enough hatred in that stare for Skarlet to feel it without looking up. Every time Kitana's attention fell upon the blood mage, she saw the same moment replayed before her: crimson steel appearing from nothing, Mileena's body jerking as the kodachi tore across her abdomen, blood immediately spilling between her fingers. Skarlet had made the cut. She was the one who held her back and allowed Mileena to vanish while wounded.

An ugly, irrational part of Kitana wanted punishment. Shackles. A cell beneath the palace. Anything upon which she could place the unbearable possibility that Mileena had died somewhere alone.

Had Fenrir not been standing before her, perhaps Kitana might already have demanded it. But that lie she told herself never survived for long. Because whenever Kitana allowed herself one more thought, the truth returned. Skarlet would never have attacked Mileena had Kitana not begun the fight. There would have been no blood to spill if Kitana had simply let her sister walk through those doors. Blaming Skarlet merely gave herself somewhere else to place a guilt too heavy to carry alone.

Barong turned toward Fenrir and Jade. “My recommendation is therefore simple. No imprisonment. No punitive sentence for the initial intervention.” His eyes moved briefly toward Syzoth and Ermac before returning to Skarlet. “Correction, however, is warranted. She must learn that protecting the crown does not mean disregarding it once circumstances change. A blade unable to distinguish between command and instinct becomes a liability to the very person it is meant to defend.”

Syzoth shifted uneasily beneath Barong's gaze. The crow-master noticed; he knew why he chose to judge him in that moment. Skarlet’s action was not hers alone. Nothing escaped Barong when events unfolded within territory; he considered his responsibility. “I would further suggest,” he added, “that in future no royal guard intervene in disputes between members of the imperial family unless a life is clearly threatened or a direct order is given. We have now seen why ambiguity in such matters is dangerous.”

No one immediately answered. The silence returned to Fenrir. Kitana had been watching him almost as much as she had watched Skarlet. His silence hurt more than any words could. She would almost have preferred anger. Fenrir had shouted before. He had cursed. Threatened. Laughed in the face of danger and answered insults with sharper ones. This was different. Since learning that Mileena was missing and that she had left bleeding from Skarlet's blade, Fenrir had scarcely moved. His hands rested at his sides. His face was composed. His eyes were not.

Kitana could not tell whether he blamed Skarlet. Whether he blamed her…or himself. Perhaps all three. That uncertainty gnawed at her far more effectively than condemnation could have. She knew what Mileena had become to him. She had watched it happen. The teasing that became trust. The physical attraction that deepened into something gentler. The nights in which Mileena sought him out not as Empress or warrior, but simply as herself.

Kitana had seen Mileena pulling away from him in recent weeks. They all had. None of them had stopped to ask why with enough persistence to make her answer. Jade finally looked toward Fenrir. Her own expression was pale with exhaustion. Whatever peace the desert had offered her seemed impossibly distant now. She did not ask what he wanted. She knew him well enough to read the slight movement of his eyes toward Skarlet and the almost imperceptible nod that followed to Jade.

Jade turned toward Barong. “We agree.” Her voice lacked its usual warmth, but its measured cadence remained intact. “Skarlet will not be imprisoned for acting upon what she believed was an immediate danger to Kitana.” Jade's gaze moved toward the blood mage. “But this matter is not finished. We will speak again about why you refused Kitana's command.”

Skarlet bowed her head. “I understand.” Jade held her gaze for another moment. There was no cruelty in it. That almost made Skarlet feel worse.

Then Fenrir spoke. One word only escaped his sorrowful lips. “Dismissed.” The sound carried throughout the throne room. Everyone turned toward him. Fenrir's eyes remained fixed upon Kitana. “All of you.”

No one questioned the order.

Carkas bowed first, then turned without ceremony and made for the doors. He understood better than most that private grief had no place before an audience. Ermac followed in solemn silence. Syzoth lingered slightly longer, his gaze shifting toward Kitana before he lowered his head and departed.

Barong remained for only a heartbeat. His expression offered Kitana neither accusation nor absolution. Only recognition. Actions created consequences. Philosophy could explain them, but never erase them. He bowed and left.

Skarlet was last. She turned first toward Kitana. Their eyes met. The apology within Skarlet's gaze was imperfect because regret itself was complicated to her. She did not regret attempting to protect Kitana. She regretted that she had not understood soon enough that Kitana had never needed protection from Mileena. And she regretted the blood that had been spilt that night. Gods, she regretted the blood.

Kitana did not return the apology. Not yet. Skarlet expected nothing else. Then her eyes found Fenrir. The look that passed between them lasted only seconds, yet carried far more than either could safely say before the others.

She knew what Mileena meant to him. Because she knew what he meant to her. Seeing that pain behind his eyes produced an almost unbearable urge to cross the chamber, wrap her arms around him, and promise him that she would fix this. That she would search every desert, city, wasteland, and realm until she found Mileena alive.

Instead, she remained where she was. Fenrir met her stare. Not with anger, yet no forgiveness either. Only grief accompanied it. Skarlet bowed respectfully. Then she turned and walked toward the doors. She passed through them. But she did not go far. Once beyond the throne room, hidden behind the enormous stone frame and the shadows cast by one of the outer columns, Skarlet stopped.

She should have continued. Fenrir had dismissed her. Every lesson she had ever learned about hierarchy said that she should obey. Yet her feet refused to carry her farther. So, she remained beyond the threshold, unseen from most of the chamber, listening. For once, she chose disobedience for no reason beyond the fact that she cared.

Nevertheless, the doors closed behind the others. Silence reclaimed the throne room.

Three monarchs stood beneath a ceiling made for them, now gathered because one of the people who should have stood beside them was gone.

Fenrir allowed several seconds to pass. Then his voice came quietly. “How did this happen?” There was no accusation in the question. That only made it worse for the Edenian queen.

Kitana inhaled slowly. For a moment she considered telling him everything immediately. Every ugly thought and hesitation that accompanied her actions. Every instant during the fight in which anger had felt better than grief. Instead, instinct drove her toward the shelter of duty. “I chose what I believed was best for Outworld and Edenia.”

Jade's expression shifted almost immediately. Kitana heard how hollow the words sounded as soon as they left her. Still, she continued. “Mileena chose what she believed was best for herself.”

Jade took one sharp step forward. “Kitana.” The warning in her voice was unmistakable. Kitana straightened upon the throne. “Do not speak as though she simply grew bored of court and wandered away.” Jade's poise strained beneath anger she was clearly attempting to contain. “She left everything she had. Her title. Her home. Us.” Fenrir's jaw tightened at the final word. Jade noticed. So did Kitana. “Something drove her to that decision,” Jade continued. “And from everything Barong just told us, you know precisely what it was.”

Kitana stood. The movement was sudden enough that the fabric of her gown swept sharply around her legs. “She made her own choice.”

“After you attacked her.”

Kitana descended one step. “You weren't there.”

“No, I wasn't.” Jade's voice rose. “And I will regret that for quite some time, I assure you. But do not use my absence to pretend I cannot recognise what happened.”

Kitana's control finally cracked. “She is not my sister!” The declaration struck the room like breaking glass. Jade stopped dead on her tracks. Fenrir did not move either. Kitana descended the remaining steps until she stood before her oldest friend. “She never was.”

The second statement came quieter. Less convincing. A lie Kitana desperately needed to believe. Because if Mileena had never truly been her sister, then perhaps Kitana had not betrayed her sister. The centuries they had shared could be reduced to error. Perhaps the pain tearing through her chest could be dismissed as mourning something that had never existed.

Jade stared at her. “What does that even mean?” Kitana looked away. Jade stepped closer. “This is Mileena you are talking about.” Her voice softened, but the softness carried more force than shouting. “The girl who grew beside you. The woman who fought beside you for centuries.” Kitana folded her arms across herself, an unconscious defence. “You called each other sisters long before any of us were part of this throne,” Jade continued. “Does none of that mean anything now?”

She reached toward Kitana's hand, but she recoiled from the touch. Jade's expression fell almost immediately.

Fenrir's voice entered the space between them. “Because you truly aren't sisters.” Kitana froze at his statement.

Jade turned and stared at him. Fenrir was staring at Kitana now with a look that contained no satisfaction at having solved a puzzle…only dread.

The conversation in the desert returned to him with brutal clarity. He had thought himself chasing an inconsistency. One he had never wanted to be right.

Fenrir took one slow step toward Kitana. “Are you?”

Jade stared at him incredulously. “Fen, not this again.” She turned toward him fully. “We spoke about this. The ages matched. The records matched. Whatever irregularities existed, there was no reason to believe that conspiracy. Kitana, please tell him.” Then she looked toward Kitana. She had gone completely still. Jade's argument died. Her body went cold with dread. “…Kitana?” Her friend's silence changed everything. Jade's voice became softer. “Please…Tell me he is mistaken.”

Kitana closed her eyes. She wanted to tell her what she asked of her. One sentence would return them to ignorance for another few minutes. But ignorance had already cost too much.

A tear escaped before she opened her eyes again. “He isn't.”

Jade took an involuntary step backwards. Fenrir's face hardened, though the pain beneath it deepened.

Kitana struggled to meet their eyes. “Mileena and I are not related by blood.”

For a moment, nothing moved. Jade looked almost physically struck. “What?”

Kitana swallowed. “She is my sister.” The immediate contradiction confused Jade. Kitana shook her head weakly. “In every way that should have mattered, she is my sister. We were raised together. We trained together…We survived him together. But she was not born from Sindel.”

Jade stared at her. “What are you saying?”

Kitana's next breath trembled. “I’m saying…That she was made.”

Fenrir's eyes narrowed. Jade's face emptied of colour. And over the next stretch of time, Kitana told them. Not in the neat language of a historian, nor all at once. The confession came haltingly, interrupted by questions, long silences, and moments when Kitana simply could not force another sentence from her throat.

She told them about the Flesh Pits. About Shang Tsung's work under Shao Kahn. How the sorcerer had preserved genetic material taken from her mother and combined it with Tarkatan blood and flesh. Of the sorcery used not merely to create life, but to shape that life toward an intended result.

Mileena had been engineered to resemble Kitana deliberately. A second princess. A daughter Shao Kahn could claim entirely as his own. One who could replace Kitana if the Edenian princess ever learned enough about Jerrod, Sindel, or Edenia’s fate to become inconvenient.

Jade said almost nothing. Fenrir said even less. Kitana continued because stopping and allowing her pain to surface felt worse. “They wanted her to become everything I refused to be,” she said eventually, seated now upon the lowest step of the throne rather than upon it. The position somehow made her look smaller. “Obedient. Ruthless. Devoted to him without question.” Her fingers curled around the fabric over her knees. “What they did not account for was us.”

Jade's expression shifted. Kitana looked toward her. “We loved one another.” The admission broke something in her voice. “Not because Shang Tsung programmed it or because Shao had commanded it. We simply did.” Another tear fell, slow and full of sorrow. “She became my sister despite them.”

Fenrir finally looked away. That sentence hurt differently. Because then the tragedy was not that Mileena had never been Kitana's sister. It was that she had been. And Kitana had allowed two dead men's intentions to convince her otherwise.

“When did you learn all of this?” Jade asked, her tone sombre and solemn.

Kitana looked at her. “Months ago.”

Jade went very still. “Months…And Mileena?”

Kitana's gaze dropped in shame and sadness. “Only recently.”

Jade closed her eyes, trying to contain the outburst growing inside her veins. Fenrir could almost see the memories crashing together behind them. The arguments between the sisters. Mileena growing quieter and Kitana becoming colder. Everyone had dismissed it as a common sister’s quarrel. Now the results of their choices were bare for everyone to see.

Jade opened her eyes and turned toward Fenrir. “We stood at Sindel's grave…We stood there and questioned it.” Fenrir's jaw tightened while Jade began pacing. “You asked me why Mileena possessed Tarkatan features, the records, even whether Sindel could truly be her mother, and I…” She stopped. Her hands clenched in ire. “I dismissed it.”

“Jade—” Fenrir began.

She shook her head. “No.” She resumed pacing, faster now. Heavier in nature. “I knew they had been fighting for months. I saw their relationship deteriorate every day and told myself it was another argument between sisters.” Her breathing sharpened. “I spent centuries serving beside them. I knew both of them better than nearly anyone alive, and somehow, I—”

Jade stopped. The curse came before composure could catch it. “Fuck!” Both Fenrir and Kitana looked at her. Jade rarely swore. Even under fire, her anger usually arrived sharpened into something elegant. She struck one palm against her forehead and turned away. “How could I have been so blind?”

Kitana stared at her oldest friend. “Jade, this isn't—”

Jade rounded on her. “You knew for months!” The force in her voice silenced Kitana. “You watched Mileena every day knowing what had been done to her. You knew what she would feel if she discovered it from someone else. And you said nothing?”

Kitana rose. “I thought I was protecting her.”

“From what? Herself?” Kitana flinched at her friend’s reply. Jade's anger faltered when she saw it. Not because the anger disappeared. Because she understood too well where it came from. Jade lowered her voice. “You should have trusted her.”

Kitana's answer emerged almost inaudibly. “…I know.” Silence returned to the chamber, overwhelm in the sorrow in the air. Then Kitana spoke again. “I hated what she represented.” Her gaze moved to the floor. “Not her.” She shook her head immediately, as if terrified they would misunderstand. “Never her. But after I learned why she was created, sometimes I would look at Mileena and see him.” Her face twisted with shame. “She was Shao Kahn's answer to my disobedience. His way of saying that everything I was could be discarded and rebuilt into something more useful.”

Kitana continued, her voice carrying a softer tone. A pained one. “And during the fight…” She struggled. “There were moments when striking her felt…” Jade's anger softened into horror. “Good.” A sob nearly followed it. “For one disgusting moment, every blow felt like I was finally striking back at him. At what he took from me.”

She wiped angrily at her tears. “Then Mileena bled.” Her voice collapsed. “And no Shao Kahn was standing in front of me.” Kitana covered her mouth for a moment. “There was only my sister.” No one dared to speak. Kitana closed her eyes. “I let his shadow turn her into something she never was.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Perhaps I never escaped him at all.”

Fenrir's footsteps echoed against the marble. Slow and measured. He walked away from them for several paces, not because he wanted distance, but because remaining still had become impossible. His mind replayed every recent interaction with Mileena. The shorter conversations that had begun to form recently between them. The nights when she sought closeness but seemed elsewhere once she found it. The way her eyes occasionally lingered upon him as though committing him to memory.

He had noticed. Just like Jade, that was the part he could not forgive in himself. He perceived something was off, yet accepted her assurances anyway. “Maybe she needed space. Maybe she would tell him when she was ready.” Those thoughts he once had haunted him. He had an answer to them now.

Tomorrow had come without her.

Behind him, Kitana whispered, “Fen…” He did not turn immediately. “If someone is to blame for this, it is me.”

Fenrir finally faced her. His eyes glistened. For perhaps the first time either Edenian woman could remember, he did not attempt to hide it quickly enough. “Yes.”

Kitana flinched. Fenrir's voice remained soft. “You caused that confrontation, Kitana.” He stepped toward her. “You hid something from Mileena that she had every right to know. You allowed fear to change the way you treated her. And when she tried to leave, you chose force instead of words.”

Kitana lowered her head in shame. Fenrir spoke the truth, and he did not need to soften it. “Skarlet might have wounded her. That guilt now belongs to her alone.” His gaze shifted toward Jade. “And we saw Mileena withdrawing and told ourselves there would be time to ask again.” Jade's eyes lowered. Fenrir placed one hand against his chest. “That guilt belongs to us.”

He breathed in shakily. “Others failed her in smaller ways. The palace failed to notice one of its own rulers disappearing inside herself while everyone debated the looming war, crowns and alliances.” His voice almost broke. “We all have to learn from it. Don't use our failures to hide from yours, Kitana.”

She looked up. “I won't.”

Fenrir stared at her for another moment. Then whatever remained of his composure finally fractured. A tear rolled down his cheek. He did not attempt to wipe it away. “I should have listened to her.”

Jade's face softened immediately. “Fen…”

“I should have listened.” His voice came rougher. “She was right there.” Another tear followed. Fenrir looked between them. “And now I don't know where she is.” That helplessness hurt more than any wound he could remember.

Kitana whispered, “She may be…”

Fenrir's expression hardened instantly. “No.” Both women looked at him. He wiped his face. “I don't believe she's dead.” There was no evidence behind the statement. Only conviction. “I refuse to believe it.” His hand remained against his chest. “I know her. I know how stubborn she is. How hard she fights when the world tries to put her down.”

A faint, sorrowful smile touched his mouth. “Mileena would crawl out of the Netherrealm itself just to insult whoever sent her there.”

Jade gave a broken laugh through her tears. Even Kitana's mouth trembled faintly.

Fenrir continued. “She's alive. Somewhere.” He looked first at Jade. Then Kitana. “And you both believe that too.” Neither allowed themselves to contradict him.

Fenrir drew himself upright. The grief remained. But purpose began taking shape around it. “We will find her. Barong's network will search every city where his eyes can reach. Syzoth can investigate routes ordinary scouts cannot. Carkas will have every controlled crossing watched without stripping our borders of the soldiers we need for the coming war.”

His voice steadied with each decision. “Every friendly port, caravan and realm gate gets her description in hush whispers. We do not announce to all of Outworld that one of its Empresses is missing while half the realm is already waiting to see whether this government will survive.”

Jade nodded. The emperor had returned to his voice, but the grieving man beneath it remained visible.

“And when we find her?” Kitana asked.

Fenrir looked directly at her. “We listen.” Kitana's eyes filled again. “If she hates us, we will listen and try our best to be better. If she wants nothing to do with this palace, then we won’t stop her. If she demands answers that hurt to give…” His gaze hardened gently. “We give them.”

Kitana's shoulders trembled. Fenrir looked toward the distant windows. Beyond them waited Outworld, and with it, a war that would decide its fate. Whatever came next would not pause because their family was broken. “This is a defeat,” Fenrir said. “Do not mistake me. Shang Tsung wanted division, whether he planned every detail or simply placed the knife where he knew one of us would eventually pick it up, I cannot say. Either way, he got what he wanted.”

His gaze returned to them.

“For now.”

Both empresses straightened. Fenrir continued. “The war has already begun. Kuatan will not wait for our grief to pass. Neither will Reiko and his men, nor anyone else watching our borders and hoping this crown tears itself apart.” His voice became firmer. “So, we grieve. Search. And remain united.”

Kitana stared at him. “After what I did…how can you even look at me and say those words? How can you even trust me again?”

Fenrir approached her. For the first time since entering the throne room, Kitana looked afraid of him. Not because she expected violence from him; she expected rejection.

Fenrir stopped before her. “Don't confuse what I'm about to do with forgiveness.” Kitana's breath caught. The honesty hurt. But she nodded. Fenrir's expression softened. “I'm angry with you. Just as much as I am with myself for being blind to all of this.”

A shameful nod followed by Kitana. “I know.”

“Part of me wants to be angrier.” His voice lowered. “But leaving you alone with this would teach us nothing.”

Kitana broke. Crystalline tears dropped from her eyes. Full of pain and sorrow. Fenrir wrapped his arms around her, tenderly and kind. For an instant she remained rigid, as though convinced she had no right to accept comfort from him.

Then her hands gripped the back of his clothing. The first sob escaped against his chest. “I'm sorry.”

Fenrir closed his eyes. “I know. But you shouldn’t apologise to me. Tell her when we find her.” Kitana cried harder. Jade watched them for only a moment before crossing the remaining distance and wrapping her arms around them both. The three stood together beneath the throne. Not healed, neither absolved of their mistakes. But together.

Fenrir rested his cheek lightly against Kitana's hair. “We'll find her.”

Kitana's reply barely escaped. “I know.”

Jade tightened her embrace. For several long moments, none of them spoke. Eventually Fenrir lowered his head. The movement was almost a bow, though not to any crown or god. Jade followed instinctively. Kitana did the same, the three of them sharing a brief silence for the woman absent from their circle.

Then Fenrir opened his eyes. Something moved beyond the half-shadowed doorway. He looked up, curious. Skarlet stood just outside the throne room. She had never truly left. Her back rested lightly against the outer column, as though she had spent the entire conversation fighting the instinct to retreat before finally surrendering to the need to hear what came next.

A tear travelled silently down her cheek. When their eyes met, Skarlet did not hide. She had heard his promise. More importantly, she understood that it included her. She pressed one hand against her chest. Then bowed her head. Not as the assassin that obeyed blindly. But herself, as part of this circle of trust that Fenrir had made.

Fenrir watched her for a moment. The pain between them remained. So did everything else. At last, he gave her a small, kind and acknowledging nod.

Skarlet returned it with the same emotion. Nothing had been forgiven, nor forgotten. But no matter what, they wouldn’t allow themselves to fall into despair. Shang Tsung may have deceived them, but he had not fractured their bond nor their strength.

W/N: Apologies for taking so long to update the story! I had this chapter finished yesterday, but the light went out jajaja. Also, I'm drowning in uni work again since the vacations ended. The updates are going to be weekly rather than daily.

Soon we are going to get a big event, as the Shokan coronation is next and with it a huge turning point for the season heading to the end of it. Expect a major villain death in that arc.

Oh! Forgot to add jajajaj. Please don't forget to leave your questions on the Q& A chapters prior for me to answer in the Q& A answers chapter following that one. Also, the story is on WebNovel. If anyone uses the platform and wants to support the story, drop some power stones and collections! On the same note, you are also invited to check my two other fanfics on my profile!
Also: Please support the story in WebNovel and in AO3 ;b