Night pressed low over the city, thick as smoke and unmoving. Akira's apartment was dim except for a single lamp, the yellow glow cutting across the silence. Ryozen leaned against the wall with arms crossed, while Ashurael—once Michael—stood near the window, his presence bending the air around him like a quiet storm.
Akira knelt in the center of the room, Yamitsurugi laid across his lap in its darkened awakened form. A faint pulse traveled through the blade with every breath he took.
Ryozen spoke first.
"Kid… your balance is slipping again."
Akira exhaled through his teeth. "I know. The sword reacts too strongly when I push my aura."
Ashurael stepped forward, his silver hair falling softly over his sharp jawline, eyes glowing with quiet gold fire. "Not the sword. You. Yamitsurugi resonates with will. Your mind must become the blade."
Akira tightened his grip.
Ashurael extended two fingers. A ring of faint white light formed beneath Akira, then expanded outward—smooth, silent, impossibly graceful.
"Stand," Ashurael said.
Akira rose.
"Again."
A pulse exploded from Akira's core, the black-and-red aura erupting. Yamitsurugi vibrated violently. For a second, the blade almost screamed.
Ashurael flicked his wrist.
A golden ripple clamped Akira's aura down.
Akira gasped, stumbling.
Ryozen sighed. "You're still fighting your rage. If you don't synchronize soon… Ren will break you."
Akira lifted his head sharply. "Then help me stop losing control!"
Ashurael nodded once, understanding burning behind his calm.
"Then we go deeper."
He raised his hand.
Reality split open behind him.
A shimmering gate expanded like blooming light. Inside waited a space that wasn't space—floating stone platforms, drifting stardust, currents of air moving like ocean tides.
Akira stepped inside with Yamitsurugi in hand. The instant he entered, the pressure multiplied—gravity, emotion, memory. His heart thudded painfully.
Ashurael floated above the void like a living constellation.
"Your enemy is not Ren. Not the void. Not the shadows. Your enemy… is the storm inside your chest."
The floating stones rumbled.
A humanoid construct of shifting shadows formed ahead of Akira—broad shoulders, long claws, empty face. Not a real shadow, but powerful enough to kill most mortals.
"Begin," Ashurael commanded.
The construct lunged.
Akira blinked—then moved.
Viel Step triggered instinctively, his body flickering forward as the shadow's strike cracked the platform where he had stood. Akira swung Yamitsurugi—clean, sharp, perfect angle.
The blade carved through the construct—but its body molded around the cut, reforming immediately.
Akira gritted his teeth. "Of course it doesn't die easy…"
The construct roared, slamming its arm down. Akira deflected—barely. His arms shook violently.
Ashurael's voice echoed across the void.
"You're not centering your will. The blade cuts reality, but only if you do."
Akira spat blood and steadied himself.
The construct charged again. Akira's eyes sharpened, and the world slowed. The black void in his left eye pulsed.
This time, he didn't dodge.
He stepped through the attack—Viel Step executed with frightening precision—and reappeared behind the construct.
"Astral… Obliteration!"
The reality around Yamitsurugi bent. A slash of violet-black force erupted, tearing through the construct and splitting it into dust.
Akira landed on his knee, panting hard.
Ashurael descended lightly, cloak billowing without wind. "Good. Again."
Akira stared at the empty space where the construct had been. "You're kidding."
"Not even close."
Two constructs appeared.
Akira clenched his jaw and lifted his blade.
---
Far outside reality, Ren crashed through the dimensional seam like a meteor, his body torn by glowing fractures. The earth rejected him, the Void rejected him, yet he clawed his way through with bare hands.
Blood dripped from his chin. Smoke curled from his back. His eyes—spiral red and black—shook with fury.
"...Let me… through…"
A violent force repelled him, hurling him into the darkness between dimensions. Ren slammed against invisible walls again and again, each strike cutting open his skin.
He roared, shredding his throat.
"LET ME THROUGH!"
His aura exploded, but still the world denied him entry.
Then something drifted toward him—soft, slow, pulsing with a strange rhythm.
A heart.
Pitch-black, crusted with obsidian veins.
It pulsed once.
Ren froze.
"...Varek?"
His voice cracked.
The Black Monarch Heart drifted into his palm, warm and pulsing like a living creature.
Ren gasped as the heart melted into smoke—then surged into his veins.
Pain erupted.
His bones cracked. His spine arched backward. Shadow burst from his back like wings made of living tar. His skin tore, reforming sharper, harder.
A horn grew from his forehead like a jagged crown.
And his eyes…
They became pits of endless annihilation.
Ren stood straight, power overflowing, the Void finally bending to him.
"...Now I enter."
He stepped forward.
This time, the barrier shattered.
Back in the Void Garden, Akira stumbled backward as both constructs lunged simultaneously. Yamitsurugi met their claws, sparks of dark light exploding outward.
One punched him in the ribs—he flew back, smashing through a stone platform.
Ryozen's voice echoed from behind.
"Get up, kid!"
Akira wiped blood from his lip. "I'm not done!"
He activated Viel Step—once, twice, thrice—flashing through the void with feral speed. He slashed one construct's leg, another's arm, then spun midair.
"Obsidian Cut!"
A razor-thin black wave tore through the space, destroying both constructs in a single devastating stroke.
Akira landed, chest heaving.
Ashurael's boots touched the platform.
"Well done. You're stabilizing."
Akira shakily smirked. "That felt… good."
"It should," Ashurael replied. "But you're still holding back."
"No," Akira said. "I'm—"
He stopped.
The void trembled.
Ryozen and Ashurael looked up simultaneously.
Akira's pulse froze.
"...Ren."
Ryozen's jaw tightened. "He's broken through. And something else is inside him."
Ashurael's eyes darkened. "Not something. Someone's will."
Akira lifted Yamitsurugi. "We have to go."
"Not yet," Ashurael said.
"If you fight Ren like this, you will die."
Akira gripped the blade until his knuckles cracked. "Then fix me."
Ashurael and Ryozen exchanged a look.
Ashurael raised his palm.
White flames gathered like wings behind him.
"Very well. Then we finish the lesson."
Akira stood straight, teeth clenched, aura tightening around him like chains.
Ashurael stepped forward, his finger touching Akira's forehead.
The void collapsed.
---
Akira stood in a white endless plane—Ashurael's deepest mental field.
No noise.
No shadows.
Just truth.
Ashurael appeared before him, wings made of burning sigils, eyes glowing like suns.
"Akira. This is your final boundary."
Akira's fists trembled. "Then let me cross it."
"Not yet."
The world around them shifted—becoming a mirror of Akira's fears.
Masahiro dying.
His mother screaming.
Rina drowning in darkness.
Ren laughing as everything burned.
Akira fell to his knees, clutching his head.
Ashurael touched his shoulder gently.
"Face it. Bear it. And rise."
Akira screamed—the sound breaking the illusion itself.
Yamitsurugi flashed into his hand, burning with black fire.
Akira stood. Straight. Solid.
"I'm done running."
Ashurael stepped back, wings folding.
"Then you are ready."
The void shattered.
Akira reappeared in his apartment, fully stable, breathing evenly.
Ryozen exhaled in relief. "Finally."
Akira lifted Yamitsurugi.
"Let's finish this."
---
Far away, Ren stood atop a ruined building, his horn glowing, his body trembling with newly gained power.
The shadows behind him knelt—every remaining member of the Twelve.
Ren opened his palm.
A dark weapon hovered into existence—Varek's legacy forged into a monstrous spear of voidstone.
Ren grinned wide.
"Time to shatter their world."
The sky above him cracked like glass.