“I cannot allow him to remain if he is not aligned with me,” the Glorious Immortal spat to an identical copy, both dressed in the red and purple adamantine armor, a gift from the gods. Each stood amongst the explosive monstrosity of solar energy, bathing in its exuberant rays. “The archives spoke of seven lords. Each of the prodigious beings mastered unique and intricate disciplines. Though the Keijijo clan would never admit to it these Daimyo were the gods of their belief system. But these were mortal men, and with all their power they could not escape death.” The copy stood there pensively, absorbing information he’d already retained for the sake of analysis.
“Regardless, I digress. The Daimyo shall rise again. They will eradicate Ishin and his clan and I will be done with it.” The dopplerganger shook his head and scoffed. “Your corpses will not eliminate the Impero. You underestimate his resolve. He was not the final Impero because of complacency. You, will not, succeed.” The replica cackled crazily, unimpressed with his master. The Glorious Immortal mimics his cheery laughter, only to remove the copy’s head shortly after. The body and head returned to the form of pure energy and dissolved into the Glorious form.
Glorious did not visit the sun often. His powers, though vast and expansive, are fueled by infinite masses of energy. The detailed or impossible the act, the more life energy it would consume. If not for his complex energy consumption and conversion system the Glorious would be dead centuries ago. An orb of energy manifested around the Glorious and he vanished.
The skies of Japan’s metaphysical Mountain range was blessed with the maniacal spectacle of flashing light then unequivocally black clouds cast a shadow over the entire country. Summoning the spirits of the Seven Lords, their youthful physical forms began to develop around the sprite like energy that was their essence. Dassk morphed his appearance adopting one more akin to the feudal lords. Wedged black sandals adorned bandages that started from the heel and led up to the knee. Black sweat like pan covered his thighs extended whilst mauve silk jacket with white trimmings danced in the wind, red sash holding it closed at the waist. His face was covered with a white mask with markings of one of the older clans from the genesis of Keijijogaku. His red and purple pattern ridden eyes pieced through the slots of the mask, only visible with intention. A large fan sat on his black, the weapon infused with great power, an ancient weapon from a different time. In mere seconds the Daimyo stood before him, stoic and obedient, their minds claimed by the god killer. “Your pupils have been annihilated. Only one clan remains. They deny your existence as beneficial to the growth of them as a people. Destroy them.” With motive, the myriad of powers took off to the Reisho Monastery.