Sensing Najenda's life in danger, Susanoo charged the Ashen Phoenix, brandishing the Wolf Fang Mace. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he unleashed the full brute power of his artificial body. Every blow was loaded with a fury he had never expressed before—a rage born not from programming, but from attachment.
His opponent allowed himself a faint smile upon seeing Night Raid's leader pierced by the poisoned arrow. It was neither gratuitous cruelty nor sadism: it was the cold satisfaction of a strategist whose plan had unfolded exactly as intended.
A flash of light appeared in Anárion's right hand, and from it burst a flaming bastard sword. The blade looked as though it had been forged in the heart of a volcano, threaded with ancient flames whispering destruction. With a single hand, he effortlessly parried the attacks of the being he himself had created. Each clash rang like a funeral bell, and each attempt from Susanoo was anticipated before it was even fully launched.
With the imperial general's attention diverted, Akame and Leone searched for the hidden sniper. Their eyes swept the stands, the rooftops, the shadows. When they spotted an archer leaving the coliseum carried by two giant bats, they understood the risk of another shot was low—yet the damage had already been done.
Leone rushed to Najenda, who had collapsed to the ground, to assess her condition, while Akame kept watch, sword drawn, ready to die if another enemy appeared.
"Boss, are you okay?" Leone asked anxiously.
Najenda answered through pain, "ARGHH!!! Do I look okay? Stop asking stupid questions and pull this arrow out of me!"
Leone swallowed her fear and grabbed the arrowhead. But the instant her hand touched the black liquid seeping down the shaft, a searing burn tore through her. She screamed and let go. When she looked at her hand, she saw a second-degree burn—skin blackened and blistered.
Thankfully, her Teigu could heal that kind of injury. The flesh regenerated slowly… but the pain did not vanish. If the poison did that on mere contact, what was it doing to the Night Raid leader's internal organs?
"Damn it! What are you waiting for—pull it out!" the wounded woman shouted.
Leone's voice trembled despite herself. "The arrow in your chest is poisoned. If I pull it out, the poison will kill you in seconds… but if I leave it in, you'll die in minutes. I don't have the medical skills to save you from something this corrosive."
Najenda fell silent for a few seconds. Every breath twisted her face with pain. Yet her mind remained strangely clear. She looked at Leone, then at Akame. In their eyes she saw fear, anger… helplessness.
"Leone… Akame… I'm giving you one last order as Night Raid's leader."
The words hit like a knife.
"I'm going to use what little life force I have left and transfer it to Susanoo. With any luck, he'll be able to kill that old monster… or at least wound him. While that happens, you must leave the arena and rejoin the rest of the team at the base."
The two assassins were swept by a storm of emotions—anger, grief, disbelief. Leone forced a bitter smile, tears threatening to spill. Akame lowered her head; strands of hair fell over her eyes, hiding them completely. The aura of depression and self-loathing she radiated—unable to help her comrade—was crushing.
Akame protested, unwilling. "You want us to abandon you? You're telling us to run like cowards?"
Suddenly, a shockwave from the clash between the two fighters reached the small group. The ground trembled, the air split. It barely affected them—but it reminded them of a cruel truth: this battle was beyond anything they could face.
"No," Najenda said firmly, though there was pleading in her voice as well. "I'm not asking you to run. I'm asking you to live… so you can fight another day."
She clenched her teeth, blood slipping between her fingers. "No matter what happens, I have no chance of making it out. Make sure my sacrifice—and Susanoo's—means something."
Reluctantly, the two assassins obeyed their leader one final time. Leone hugged Najenda briefly, then Akame bowed deeply—an ultimate gesture of respect. They fled with tears in their eyes.
Meanwhile, Anárion and Susanoo fought a completely uneven battle. The Ashen Phoenix made no real effort. Every parry was precise, every counter measured. Yet he was amused by the confrontation: it was the first time one of his creations had developed a personality and desires of its own without his intervention. For once—no schemes, no manipulation—he simply wanted to witness the apotheosis of one of his works.
He knew every joint, every weakness, every limit within Susanoo.
He had forged him.
"Magatama Manifestation!" Najenda shouted with finality.
A yellow light suddenly wrapped around Susanoo's body. The Dark Lord watched with genuine interest. The last two members of Night Raid had already fled. Their leader's body was withering, consumed by the use of the last drops of life force she had left, condemning her to certain death.
"That is indeed my creation… no—my son."
The Maia's voice held neither mockery nor cruelty. "Show me the power of the emotions binding you to your companions… and your will to win."
Susanoo absorbed his user's life force into the magatama in his chest, accessing a stronger, more armored form. Under the Magatama Manifestation, his hair whitened, his horns turned black, and a disk appeared behind his back.
Anárion felt something shift.
Susanoo was even drawing on the life force of his core.
This will be your last battle, he understood.
The imperial general invoked a great number of flaming spears again through magic circles. This time, they formed all around Susanoo, encircling him like divine judgment.
Susanoo used Yata no Kagami to protect himself. But the mirror's range was too limited. Many spears pierced the biological Teigu, tearing away artificial flesh and shards of armor. Yet as long as his core was not destroyed, he continued to regenerate.
Susanoo ignored the pain. He had only one goal left.
A massive sword appeared in his hands.
"Ame no Murakumo!"
Anárion murmured, "Since you are willing to sacrifice your existence, I will show you the respect I have for your act."
The Dark Lord channeled all the power he had left. He knew the price: the loss of his physical form. But it did not matter.
As the long blade was about to strike its target, an immense heat was unleashed.
The imperial general's body turned to ash.
Then the sword.
Then the battlefield.
Then the entire arena.
And finally Susanoo himself.
Soon, nothing remained… except a cloud of ashes taking the shape of a gray bird with wings outstretched.
The Ashen Phoenix had shown the people of the Empire one last time why he bore that name.