Back in the arena, Minato's lifeless body lay sprawled across the floor. At the end of the podium, Narberal, Takahashi, Yamashiro, and Okamoto were bound in heavy chains, blood dripping from their faces.
Naoya tore open a shimmering portal.
Hoshikawa hissed, "Wait—he's leaving? We haven't even finished what we came here for."
Kozuki sneered. "Leave him. Unless you have a death wish."
Okamoto grit his teeth. "So when is this so-called 'Boss' of yours returning? Precious time is being wasted."
Hoshikawa's fist met his jaw with a brutal crack. "All you need to know is this—you're all going to die."
Yamashiro's voice cut through the tension. "I never understood why you betrayed us. The Hanma family is already in shambles, nowhere near its prime. So it's not for the throne… is it?"
"Correct," Hoshikawa admitted, a smile curling across her lips. "But I couldn't care less about this forsaken family. I am in my prime—a beauty meant for more than rotting away on this mountain."
"That actually makes sense," Okamoto muttered. "The heads of the branch families can't leave Hanma Mountain. It's a curse… passed down since the beginning of time. But killing us won't break it."
"Of course not," Yamashiro spat. "Just fools dragging us into their foolishness."
Takahashi suddenly laughed—loud, booming, shaking the arena.
"Quit laughing, muscle-brain!" Yamashiro snapped.
"How can I not?" Takahashi roared. "We cannot leave, true… but it's not the position that binds us. After all, one person did leave."
"…I hadn't thought of that," Yamashiro muttered.
"Every one of us lived outside the mountain before becoming heads," Takahashi continued. "Except you, Hoshikawa. But still—that's no excuse for betrayal."
Hoshikawa's lips twitched. "…Perhaps you're right. But—"
The ground split open. Bruce, Aika, and Kaede emerged from the dark hole below.
"Father!" Kaede cried.
Takahashi froze. "Why are you here?!"
Moments later, Belita, Tsubaki, and Haruto followed, covered in dust.
Tsubaki called out, "We can't leave without you!"
"Urgh… boring," Hoshikawa muttered, opening her fan. "Fine—I'll round you all up."
"Belita," Bruce ordered, his eyes narrowing, "set them free."
"Roger," Belita whispered.
In an instant, she blurred behind the prisoners. Chains clattered to the ground.
(So fast… when did she—?) Hoshikawa's eyes widened.
Freed, Takahashi immediately lunged at Kozuki.
"You detestable serpent!" he roared.
Meteor Smash!
His fist burned like molten rock, crashing down with the force of a meteor. Kozuki barely dodged, half the arena collapsing in the aftermath.
And then he appeared.
Lex walked through the rubble, casual as if destruction itself were routine.
He raised both arms, coat fluttering open to reveal sculpted abs and a body built for slaughter. Thick black hair framed a sharp jawline, his blood-red eyes glowing like fresh wounds.
"Now then," Lex's voice boomed, "Sinclair… behold the massacre that will be your rebirth."
Bruce trembled, narrating with clenched teeth:
"I'll never forget that look—the maniacal glint in his eyes. Because that night, beneath the crimson moon, Sinclair was reborn."
Lex grinned like a demon.
"Behold my almighty power… OVERDRIVE: Night of Death!"
Darkness flooded outward, swallowing everything.
Hanma Mountain was no ordinary peak. Its vast body stretched endlessly into the clouds, jagged ridges clawing at the heavens. Every dungeon in the world converged at its feet, sealed only by the barrier of stigma that cost countless lives to maintain. Ancient shrines clung to its cliffs, abandoned fortresses rotted along its slopes, and the cursed halls of the six branch families circled its crown like vultures awaiting their prey.
They said Hanma Mountain was alive—that its heart was a dungeon itself, beating beneath the rock. When the crimson moon rose, the entire mountain quaked as if awakening from slumber. Shadows writhed across its surface, and for the first time in centuries, the barrier trembled.
---
The wave of darkness stretched across the mountain. From the lowest caverns to the highest shrines, all who lived beneath its shadow felt the weight of despair. Around the world, people looked up at the crimson moon… and watched the birth of a king.
Yamashiro barked orders above the chaos.
"Everyone—form the circle! Children in the center!"
Okamoto grimaced. "Don't tell me we're working with traitors again."
"This isn't the time for friend or foe," Yamashiro snapped. "We can't even use our stigma. Just do it!"
One by one, they gathered.
Hoshikawa, Narberal, Takahashi, and Yamashiro braced at the front lines, blades and fists cutting down wave after wave of executioners.
Okamoto and Belita guarded the center, where Kanae shielded the wounded.
At the very heart of the circle, Bruce stood with Haruto, Aika, Kaede, and Tsubaki—backs pressed together, surrounded by shadows that stretched without end.
The air grew heavy. Each breath burned like ash. The crimson moon glared down like an executioner's eye.
"Hold the line!" Yamashiro roared.
But Lex only smiled. His blood-red gaze swept over the circle like a predator eyeing its cage of prey.
He lifted one finger to the sky.
And then—
The earth split. From the cracks, hundreds—no, thousands—of executioners rose, their blades glinting with moonlight. The circle was swallowed in darkness.
Bruce clenched his fists, his voice shaking as he whispered:
"…It was on that night… the night of the crimson moon… when everything ended."
Lex's laughter echoed, filling the mountain, filling the world.
"Now… SINCLAIR—RISE!"