Recap & Prologue
The Pit had fallen silent.
No wind, no echo, no sky. Only the tremor of something vast and restless stirring far below, where light had long forgotten how to reach. The air itself had weight—grief given form, pressing down until the lungs begged for mercy.
Above, the hollow skies churned like boiling smoke, gray swallowing gray. What little sunlight dared slip into the pitlands came bent and trembling, stripped of warmth, turning the world below into a grave painted with colorless flame.
And yet—life still clawed onward.
From the shattered ruins of the Oni throne to the crystal fields of bone and salt, the survivors of the last arc had scattered like ashes on a dying wind. Gomi Kira, the so-called "Final Oni King," walked among those ashes now, his every step echoing through the broken corridors of a world that refused to die.
He no longer sought salvation. He no longer sought glory.
Only truth.
And truth—like the pit—was always hungry.
The Broken Path Below
The dungeon beneath the Pale Abyss breathed as if alive, pulsing with veins of molten light that beat like the heart of a buried god. Its walls whispered and flaked, its air thick with sulfur and regret. Every step Gomi and Minagami took felt like walking through the lungs of a dying beast.
Their truce was fragile—built not from forgiveness, but from exhaustion. The battle they'd fought days earlier still clung to their bodies: burns, cuts, memories that refused to fade. Every glance between them carried the echo of violence and understanding.
Minagami broke the silence first, her voice low and sharp.
"You still bleed like the rest of us, Oni King."
Gomi's grin was faint, dry. "And you still talk like pain isn't proof of life."
Before she could answer, the air changed.
It wasn't just movement—it was presence. The dungeon's pulse faltered. The whispering walls went mute.
Gomi froze mid-step. His instincts screamed. He'd lived too long in this cursed world not to recognize it: the way the void itself seemed to recoil, as though something old had turned its gaze upon him.
"Something's coming," he said, barely audible.
"Something wrong."
Minagami's hand tightened on her blade. The mist around them quivered.
Then—
a sound.
Laughter. Low, distant, but growing.
Like the echo of a being who had been laughing since before the world began.
The walls glowed crimson. The floor split, molten cracks spidering outward.
A voice boomed, distorted by heat and hate.
"Strongest in the room, aren't you? Let's see what kind of game you play."
Then, through the light, he came.
The Arrival of Honō Yakedo
Fire wasn't his weapon. It was his skin.
The figure who emerged from the inferno wore no armor—only scars and flame. His body pulsed with shifting veins of molten gold and red, burning symbols that crawled like living tattoos. His eyes were twin furnaces—sadistic and brilliant.
He moved through solid stone as though it were mist. The ground sizzled beneath his bare feet, melting to slag.
And when he smiled, the dungeon itself seemed to recoil.
Honō Yakedo.
The name whispered through the pit like blasphemy. The first Oni born of pure flame. The cursed child of a god's heart, said to have murdered his own kin just to see how long they burned.
Now, his attention fell upon Gomi.
"Finally," Yakedo hissed, each word dripping with hunger. "The last Oni King. I've waited for this moment longer than you've been alive."
Gomi's cursed aura flared, crimson chains uncoiling around him. "If you came for talk, you'll leave disappointed."
Yakedo laughed—a sound like fire devouring breath. "No talk. Only ash."
The first strike wasn't seen, only felt.
Air exploded. Stone melted.
Gomi's body hit the far wall before sound even reached him.
Minagami screamed, "GOMI!"
The wall behind him glowed white from the impact, molten edges hissing. He staggered upright, spitting blood, the taste of iron and flame in his mouth.
"You hit harder than your reputation," Gomi said, his grin carved from defiance.
"Let's see if you can finish."
The First Burn
Gomi charged, dragging a torrent of cursed energy behind him. The floor shattered beneath each step, crimson flame twisting around his limbs. He leapt, spinning midair, hurling a wave of black fire like a blade.
Yakedo caught it with his bare hand.
The cursed flame screamed—then vanished, consumed by the greater fire that was his flesh.
"That all you've got?" Yakedo mocked.
He stepped forward, and the air combusted around him.
Minagami joined the fray, her spiritual blade cutting arcs of pale light that glimmered against the inferno. Every strike she landed hissed as the heat warped her weapon, yet she pressed on, faster, fiercer. Sparks scattered like dying stars.
But Yakedo was not flesh and bone—he was fury made form.
Every wound closed with a hiss. Every cut fed the flames.
He laughed through the pain.
"Beautiful. You both shine so bright when you're breaking!"
Hosogiri's Vision
Miles away, Hosogiri froze mid-step. The world before his eyes fractured—the walls turned transparent, the air shimmered with heat, and through the vision he saw fire. Endless, all-consuming fire.
And in its center, Gomi—screaming, burning, yet still standing.
Hosogiri's pupils dilated. "No… that's not happening. That's—what's about to happen."
The future. His curse's gift.
He sprinted into the depths, ignoring pain, ignoring fear. "Hold on, Gomi! I'm coming!"
Hoguro and the Chamber of Rebirth
Elsewhere, Hoguro stumbled into a hall unlike any before—round, vast, and humming with ancient light. Symbols lined the walls: a cycle of death and life, ashes giving birth to flame.
At its center floated a sphere of molten glass, its core beating like a heart.
He stepped closer, drawn by instinct. The glyphs on the walls brightened, each pulse syncing with his breath. His reflection in the orb was wrong—eyes older, haunted, familiar.
A whisper crawled from the orb.
"Remember."
His gut tightened. Images flooded his mind—lifetimes past, battles fought under a different name, a promise made beneath a burning sky. He gasped, gripping his weapon.
"This… this is who I was," he breathed. "Who I am."
The orb dimmed, its energy seeping into him. His blade flared, molten lines crawling up its edge.
He turned toward the sounds of distant battle.
"Gomi," he whispered. "Hold on."
The Flames of Rebirth
Yakedo's laughter thundered through the dungeon. He swung an arm, sending a wave of flame that devoured the corridor. Gomi braced himself, cursed chains forming a barrier—only to melt away in seconds. The heat was unbearable, the air too thick to breathe.
Minagami leapt, channeling her spirit energy through her blade.
"Gomi! Left side!"
He shifted instantly. The blade slashed past him, striking Yakedo's shoulder. For the first time—blood.
It hissed as it hit the floor, burning through stone.
Yakedo's grin widened. "Good. You actually hurt me. Let's see if you regret it."
He vanished—reappeared behind Minagami.
Her body twisted midair as she barely parried his strike, but the force sent her skidding across the floor.
"MINAGAMI!" Gomi roared.
He lunged, tackling Yakedo, their bodies colliding like meteors. Fire met shadow, curse met flame. The shockwave obliterated the nearest wall.
For a moment, they were silhouettes of fury—black and gold locked in chaos.
Hosogiri Joins the Fray
A blast tore through the far wall.
Hosogiri burst through the debris, eyes burning with his cursed sight.
"About time," Gomi spat, half-laughing, half-choking on smoke.
"Wouldn't miss the fireworks," Hosogiri replied.
He extended his hand—light bent, forming twin daggers of raw insight energy. Each move he made anticipated Yakedo's next strike, every step a reflection of the monster's rhythm.
"Another toy?" Yakedo sneered. "Fine. Burn together."
But this time, the tide shifted.
Gomi attacked head-on, Hosogiri cut through blind spots, and Minagami's strikes carved the openings between. Their rhythm was imperfect but alive—fueled by desperation, not harmony.
Yakedo roared, retreating a step for the first time. His flames flared white-hot, licking the ceiling. The dungeon screamed as its walls melted, the air trembling under the heat of gods at war.
Hoguro's Return
The chamber of rebirth collapsed behind him as Hoguro reentered the fray, his blade now glowing like liquid fire. He moved through rubble, silent and steady. His eyes had changed—no longer uncertain, but aware.
Yakedo turned, sensing the new energy. "Oh… another?"
Hoguro raised his weapon. "No. I'm the echo of everyone you've ever burned."
He struck.
The blade met Yakedo's gut—and didn't stop.
It burned not with flame, but with memory. Every death, every soul consumed by Yakedo's fire screamed through that strike.
The monster howled. His body cracked, leaking molten light.
Hosogiri gasped. "It's working!"
"Keep pushing!" Gomi shouted.
They all surged together—
Cursed flame. Spirit blade. Insight daggers. Rebirth fire.
Each attack collided into Yakedo like a storm of vengeance.
For a moment, he faltered—his grin breaking, his laughter replaced by a scream that shook the world.
The Turn of the Tide
The blast that followed shattered everything. The dungeon collapsed in on itself, light devouring sound, sound devouring light. When it cleared, they stood amidst ruin—battered, bleeding, breathing smoke.
Yakedo knelt, one hand pressed to the floor, his molten eyes dimming.
"You… think this is victory?" he rasped, smiling through blood and ash. "I am not a creature of life. I am the breath between death and fire. You can't kill me."
Gomi limped forward, each step deliberate.
"No," he said softly. "But we can bury you."
He raised his hand. The cursed chains uncoiled, wrapping around Yakedo's form. The flames hissed, resisted, screamed.
Minagami thrust her sword into the ground, releasing her remaining spirit energy. Hosogiri and Hoguro followed, merging their power into the curse.
The dungeon howled.
Yakedo's roar turned to laughter once more—broken, echoing.
"You think fire dies when buried? Foolish king. Fire only sleeps."
Then he was gone.
The light faded. The air turned still.
And the Pit fell silent again.
Aftermath — The Breath of Ashes
Hours passed in ghostly quiet.
Minagami sat slumped against a broken pillar, her blade cracked, eyes half-shut. Hosogiri tended to her wounds in silence, his usual calm now distant and hollow.
Hoguro stood apart, his new weapon dim but still warm, its glow faint like a fading heartbeat. He didn't speak—his gaze lost in memory.
And Gomi—
Gomi stood before the molten crater that had once held Honō Yakedo.
He felt no triumph.
Only emptiness.
He whispered to the silence,
"How many monsters do I have to kill before I stop becoming one of them?"
No one answered.
Minagami's voice broke softly through the dark.
"Maybe monsters are just what's left when humans run out of mercy."
Gomi's hands trembled. For once, he didn't reply.
The fire had gone out. But the smell of ash lingered—clinging to their hair, their skin, their hearts.
The Awakening Beneath
Far below, deeper than the dungeon, beneath molten rock and curse-forged stone—
something stirred.
In the blackness where even fire died, an eye opened.
Gold. Vast. Patient.
A whisper rippled through the pit, ancient and cold.
"The Oni King bleeds again.
The cycle resumes."
The ground trembled once, as if in laughter.
Then all was still.
Epilogue — The Cursed Light
The survivors gathered at the surface of the broken labyrinth. The skies above had changed—no longer gray, but tinged with faint violet, like twilight bleeding through ash.
Minagami looked toward the horizon. "This isn't over."
Hosogiri nodded, quiet. "No. It's just begun."
Hoguro rested his blade against his shoulder, voice low. "We buried fire… but fire doesn't die."
Gomi said nothing.
He stood apart, his silhouette outlined by the faint cursed light that lingered over the pit's edge. His eyes reflected both flame and shadow—two halves of the same ruin.
When he finally spoke, it was almost to himself.
"If fire only sleeps…
then I'll be the nightmare that wakes it."
The wind shifted. The ash rose, swirling around him like a crown.
And in that breath of ashes and cursed light—
Season Two began...