The air around him shimmered — heat bleeding from his body as steam hissed from every pore.
Shojiro's breathing slowed to a growl. "Alright… sixty percent to arms, forty to legs. No upper limit. Let's make this clean."
He surged forward.
The ground cracked open beneath each step. Dust exploded in his wake.
A cluster of Skulkers darted from the fog — too slow. Shojiro's fist blurred through them, turning torsos into mist and limbs into meat paste.
But the more he moved, the faster the numbers spun in his head — percentages changing instinctively, muscles responding faster than his thoughts.
"Seventy to arms. Thirty to legs. No— eighty–twenty—no wait—"
His own power started outrunning his focus.
He swung again. The blow tore through five demons at once — but his arm followed through too hard.
The elbow snapped. Tendons whipped loose. Blood sprayed like a fine mist.
"Gh—!" He dropped to one knee, clutching his ruined arm as it twisted in a way no joint should.
Yggdrasil immediately began repairing it, but before it could finish, another wave came — Shriekers and Rendracers in tandem.
"Fine. We're not done."
He forced the healing to stop halfway. The half-regenerated limb bulged grotesquely as he forced more mass into it — eighty percent, ninety—
His entire body screamed in revolt.
Veins bulged black. His right shoulder dislocated from the sheer internal pressure. The air around his arm distorted — flesh vibrating, ready to burst.
The next punch connected with a Rendracer — and vaporized it. Nothing left. Not even dust.
Then his arm exploded.
Chunks of muscle and bone scattered across the asphalt. Steam burst out of the cavity where his arm had been, like a furnace venting hellfire.
Shojiro roared — half in rage, half in agony. "GHHHRRAAAGHH!!"
But through the pain… he smiled.
He looked at the stump, already regenerating, the blood sizzling as new fibers formed.
"Heh… found my limit."
More demons closed in. His Vythra flickered — his stamina hitting critical.
"Alright… fine then. Let's play smart."
He took a deep breath, centering himself, his voice low and deliberate.
"Forty percent arms. Thirty legs. Twenty torso. Ten back."
Every muscle pulsed once — synchronized. Stable.
Then Shojiro vanished.
A blur of red motion and shattering sound, moving between demons like lightning given flesh. He struck without pause — no wasted motion, no recoil. Each hit was optimized — mass reconfiguring mid-swing, shifting strength exactly where it was needed.
Demons fell in waves.
When the last one collapsed, Shojiro stood amidst another field of corpses — breathing hard, but steady.
He looked at his hands again, the flesh still smoking.
"…Guess this power's got teeth."
He flexed his fingers, cracking the regenerated joints.
"Good. So do I."
The ground cracked again, deep and violent. The asphalt beneath Shojiro's feet quaked again — a low, seismic rumble that wasn't from him this time.
A new crack tore open in the distance bleeding malice into the world, glowing with a sick crimson hue. The air warped, bleeding black mist.
Shojiro turned his head, his jaw clenching.
"What now…?"
From within, more demons crawled out — their bodies jerking, dripping with oily blood. Dozens at first… then hundreds. Their claws scraping the earth as the air filled with shrieks and static growls.
Shojiro stared, blinking once. "You've gotta be kidding me."
The ground split wider. The noise was like a thousand howls scraping inside his skull.
He grit his teeth and rolled his shoulders, his aura sparking with tension.
"Fine. The more, the merrier."
He dashed forward — or at least, tried to. He dug his heel into the dirt and launched forward, ready to crush the first one that came close. But this time… his body didn't move as sharply. His stride lagged half a beat. His muscles, once roaring like engines, felt sluggish — heavy.
His speed wasn't the same.
Each step felt… heavy.
He clenched his fist and slammed it into a charging Berserker demon's skull — but instead of exploding, the head just snapped back with a dull thud, bone cracking but not breaking.
Shojiro blinked.
"…Huh?"
The Berserker reeled, then swung back, roaring. Shojiro growled in irritation and followed through — driving another punch straight through its face.
This time, the head burst clean off the neck, spraying dark ichor across the ruins.
He stumbled back a step, panting harder than he should've. His skin burned hot, his heartbeat erratic. Every vein in his arms felt like molten lead.
He looked at his arm, panting slightly. His movements… weren't syncing right. His muscles felt slower — heavier, like each fiber was dragging a mountain.
He flexed his right arm — no injury, no misconfiguration. The issue wasn't physical. It was internal.
"What the hell's going on with me…?"
He touched his chest — his pulse was weak, fading, like it was struggling to push blood through his enlarged muscles.
He could feel his life energy thinning — the spark that kept his muscles alive and his Vythra stable. It wasn't just exhaustion.
It was depletion.
Then his vision flickered for a moment
"…Oh."
He exhaled sharply, half in disbelief, half in realization.
"So that's what this is…"
Each reconfiguration, each burst of strength — it had been feeding on his life point, the divine vitality gifted by Kaiser's rebirth.
And now, it was slipping away.
His power wasn't infinite — it had limits, and he'd just crossed the halfway mark.
He glanced up — dozens more demons closing in. The earth trembled under their steps.
The demons kept coming, the ground rumbling under their weight.
Shojiro rolled his neck and spat to the side. "Alright then…"
He clenched his fists again, feeling the pulse of his slowing heartbeat sync with the low hum of Vythra inside his veins.
"If I'm running low, then I'll just fight smarter."
He lowered his stance, focusing — calculating.
"Thirty percent to arms, thirty to legs, twenty torso, ten back, ten core. Keep it balanced."
The light in his eyes steadied. His breathing normalized. The sluggishness faded slightly — his control returning.
The next Berserker lunged.
Shojiro met it midair, driving his knee up into its chest — crushing it flat. He followed through, pivoted, and snapped another one's neck in a clean arc.
Every motion was deliberate now. No wasted energy. No flashy swings. Just efficient, lethal destruction.
But still… as the wave kept pouring from the crack, he felt the pressure rising.
His reserves ticking down.