The sky turned black.

  Not because of clouds or smoke—but because Kairyuuha had stopped holding back.

  A soundless boom shattered the air.

  A ripple of despair surged through the battlefield.

  The ground split.

  Monsters screamed.

  Demons tried to flee.

  Even the will-less felt something primal:

  Dread.

  Kairyuuha stood in the center—dripping in blood.

  His dagger dripped red and black.

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  “Why?”

  He muttered.

  SLASH.

  A beast’s head flew.

  “I tried protecting this world.”

  SLASH.

  An army of demons turned to mist.

  “I tried protecting my friends.”

  STAB. CRACK.

  Entire formations shattered like glass.

  His breath was heavy—not from exhaustion, but rage barely leashed.

  “I turned myself into the villain…

  Just to keep him safe.

  Just so the world would look at me and not him…”

  Another dozen attackers rushed him.

  He didn’t even look—his aura vaporized them.

  “And still…”

  He paused. His hands trembled.

  “…I lost everything.”

  The battlefield was a graveyard of ash and ruin.

  His cloak was torn. His face splashed with blood.

  His cosmic eyes burned like collapsing stars.

  “Now I have nothing left to lose.”

  But then—

  He inhaled.

  Slowed his breath.

  The shaking in his fingers stilled.

  “No…

  Not yet.”

  He remembered something—

  a spell.

  A forbidden, ancient spell.

  One that could bring back a soul.

  It was far beyond divine-class—nearly impossible.

  But possible.

  And that was all he needed.

  “Hang on, Kazuki.”

  He turned to the horde.

  His smile was thin.

  Cruel.

  Tired.

  “Let’s quicken the pace.”

  And with a snap, he vanished—

  then reappeared mid-air, a spiral of cosmic daggers orbiting him.

  The army turned to look—

  just as a hundred slashes fell at once.

  Blood painted the ground.

  Terror broke the rhythm of war.

  Even the Custodians began to panic again.

  Because the real war had just begun.