SAI SHINU
Still standing. Still watching. His Red Veil glowing brighter than ever, pulsing with the blood of a thousand dead creatures.
And me—alone, my knees shaking, my sword heavy, the last echoes of Eclipse still burning in my veins.
It was no longer a battle of attrition.
It was just him and me.
The battlefield was empty, but not silent.
My heartbeat still roared in my ears, a steady war-drum against the hollow air of the Astral Gate.
Across from me, he stood — Namae's master. Not even winded, not even bent, his crimson veil pulsing like a second skin. He looked less like a man and more like an idol carved of blood and shadow, a figure that the world itself bent around.
"You killed them all," he said, voice low, calm, too calm. "And yet, you did exactly as I hoped. You fed me."
The blood soaking the marble floor rippled. The armor absorbed it in slow, deliberate pulses, the glow intensifying with every heartbeat. His figure sharpened, growing darker, heavier, as though the blood itself had chosen him as its god.
I clenched my sword tighter.
"You're nothing without them," I spat.
A smirk touched his lips. "And you are nothing because of them."
He moved.
Not fast—instant. One blink, and his blade was already at my throat.
Shadow Step.
I vanished, reappearing at his back, my sword already mid-swing. The edge of my crimson rift shimmered with violet hunger, ready to tear him apart.
But his own Shadow Step was sharper. He slipped out of reach and reappeared at my flank, his sword flashing like a silver fang.
Steel met steel.
The clang split the silence, raw and sharp, sparks leaping from the collision. My arms shuddered under the weight of his strike.
Then came the storm.
His blade carved arcs of wind, each swing slicing through the air with the force of a hurricane. I stepped, vanished, reappeared—dodging, deflecting, answering with rift-slashes of my own. Each time my sword connected, roses bloomed across the battlefield, but they unraveled against his armor, the petals falling uselessly to the floor.
He didn't even flinch.
"You swing like a man possessed," he sneered, pressing me back. "But you're already bleeding. Already slowing. You'll die here, boy—like your mother."
The words carved deeper than his blade ever could. My grip faltered for half a heartbeat, and he struck.
His sword ripped across my shoulder, blood spraying into the air. The Veil pulsed greedily, drinking it in. My knees buckled.
No. Not again.
I forced myself forward, blade screaming violet light as I slashed at his chest. Crimson Rift clawed at the blood armor, unmaking fragments, tearing away layers. For the first time, his veil flickered, its glow dimming at the edges.
He looked down at the wound, then at me. The smirk returned.
"So you can bite, after all."
I raised my sword again, chest heaving, my own blood dripping freely now. Every strike, every wound I gave him, fueled his armor. But every strike I landed also ate at it. The rift didn't stop. It would never stop.
It was a race.
He stepped in, and the air exploded with wind. My feet left the ground, my body hurled back like a rag doll. I slammed onto the marble, the breath torn from my lungs.
His shadow loomed over me. His blade rose.
I Shadow Stepped—behind him, this time close enough to smell the iron stench of his veil. My blade drove downward with everything I had, sparks and roses bursting as it connected.
The armor screamed. For the first time, it screamed. The sound wasn't steel, wasn't flesh. It was something older, something angry. The blood writhed, clinging to him desperately as Rift carved it apart.
He staggered.
I didn't let him breathe.
Slash. Rift. Roses. Slash. Rift. Roses.
I carved at his arms, his legs, his chest, stripping away the veil bit by bit. He fought back, his blade snapping against mine, each swing a storm of steel and fury. But I could see it now—the cracks in his defense, the gaps in his blood-soaked armor.
For the first time, he bled.
Real blood.
He roared, voice shaking the sky. "You dare? You dare stand against ME?"
I met his eyes, dark and burning.
"I don't just stand against you. I end you."
Our blades clashed again, locking, pressing, each of us shoving against the other with every ounce of strength left. His face twisted with rage. Mine, with determination.