The wasteland was silent save for the howling winds sweeping through the jagged, desolate terrain. The air was thick with ash and the faint metallic scent of blood, the remnants of some long-forgotten battle. Dark stood alone, his crimson eyes fixed on the towering robotic figure in front of him. Its humanoid form was sleek but terrifying—cold metal fused with jagged edges, glowing red eyes that burned with malice, and claws sharp enough to slice through stone.
Kyuketsu pulsed in his grip, its dark aura rippling with energy. In its true form, the blade was a masterpiece of destruction—a katana of pitch-black steel, its edge lined with faint crimson runes that glowed ominously. The hilt felt alive in his hand, as though it was waiting, begging to taste blood.
The robotic figure stepped forward, each movement deliberate and heavy. Its voice came out as a distorted growl, crackling with malice.
Figure: Flesh and bone... so weak. You are nothing.
Dark: (coldly) Funny. That's exactly what I'm about to show you.
Without another word, the figure lunged, its claws cutting through the air with a metallic screech. Dark sidestepped, his movements fluid as shadows coiled around his body, almost dancing with him. Kyuketsu's blade flashed, carving a deep gash into the figure's arm. Sparks erupted, but the figure didn't falter.
Figure: (mocking) A scratch. Is that all?
Dark didn't respond. Instead, he crouched low, his eyes narrowing as he focused. The figure lunged again, its claws aimed directly at his throat. Dark parried with Kyuketsu, the clash of steel and metal ringing through the wasteland. Sparks flew as he twisted, driving the blade upward and severing one of the figure's claws.
Dark: (flatly) You talk too much.
The figure roared, its body shuddering as spikes erupted from its back, launching toward Dark like missiles. He leapt into the air, twisting mid-flight as Kyuketsu shifted. In an instant, the katana elongated, its blade becoming a spear. Dark hurled it forward, the weapon impaling the figure's chest and pinning it to the ground.
Dark landed silently, his crimson eyes glowing faintly as Kyuketsu reappeared in his hand, already returning to its katana form. The robotic figure struggled against the weapon's energy, its claws digging into the ground as it tried to rise.
Figure: (snarling) You cannot kill me. I am eternal.
Dark tilted his head, his voice colder than the wasteland winds.
Dark: (softly) Eternal? Let's test that theory.
In a blur of motion, he was on the figure, Kyuketsu slicing through metal and circuitry with surgical precision. Sparks and wires erupted as he severed the figure's arms, leaving it writhing on the ground. Dark grabbed its head, slamming it into the dirt with enough force to shatter the surrounding rock.
The figure's glowing eyes flickered, its voice distorting.
Figure: (faintly) You... cannot...
Dark didn't wait for it to finish. He raised Kyuketsu, its aura intensifying as the blade morphed into a massive axe, its edge dripping with shadowy energy. With a single, devastating swing, he cleaved the figure in half. Its body crumbled, the glowing light in its eyes extinguished.
Dark: (quietly) Eternal my ass.
As the remains of the figure sparked and twitched, Dark turned away, Kyuketsu shrinking back into its katana form. His grip tightened on the hilt as he surveyed the wasteland, the shadows around him rippling faintly.
But then, a low hum filled the air. Dark froze, his instincts screaming at him to prepare. From the horizon, more figures emerged—five, maybe six—each one larger and more menacing than the last. Their glowing eyes locked onto him, their movements synchronized as they advanced.
Dark: (thinking, smirking faintly) Alright. Round two.
He raised Kyuketsu, its aura flaring as the shadows around him surged to life. The wasteland seemed to darken as the figures closed in, their metallic forms glinting in the dim light. Dark took a deep breath, his voice a low growl.
Dark: (softly) Let's dance.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he charged, shadows trailing behind him like living entities. The battle was far from over, and Dark was ready to unleash hell.
The metallic figures advanced in perfect unison, their heavy footfalls shaking the wasteland like thunder. Each step radiated power and precision, their glowing eyes locked onto Dark like predators cornering prey. The air grew dense, charged with an oppressive energy that pressed down on him.
Dark: (thinking, gritting his teeth) They're faster... stronger than the first one.
He dodged a swipe aimed at his midsection, rolling to the side as another figure lunged toward him. Kyuketsu morphed into a long, curved scythe in his hands, its edge gleaming with dark energy as he spun, carving through the air. The blade met resistance, cutting deep into one of the figure's torsos, but it didn't falter. Instead, it grabbed the scythe mid-swing, wrenching it from Dark's grip.
Dark: (thinking, frustrated) Shit.
Before he could react, another figure struck, its clawed hand slamming into his side and sending him skidding across the cracked ground. Pain lanced through his body as he struggled to stand, shadows flickering weakly around him.
The figures didn't relent. They closed in, their synchronized attacks leaving him no room to counter. A devastating blow struck his shoulder, forcing him to drop to one knee. Another slammed into his chest, the force driving the air from his lungs.
Dark: (gasping) Damn it...!
One of the figures raised its massive arm, energy gathering at the tip of its claw. The air shimmered with heat as it prepared to deliver the killing blow. Dark's crimson eyes widened as he braced himself, shadows coiling protectively but too weak to shield him fully.
And then... it happened.
The world seemed to stop.
A heartbeat. Slow, deafening, and heavy. The sound echoed through the wasteland, drowning out everything else.
The figures froze mid-motion, their glowing eyes flickering as if sensing something primal, something far beyond their understanding. The camera—or perspective—zoomed in on Dark's face, his eyes wide with shock and then... they changed.
The crimson hue faded, replaced by a swirling abyss of black and purple, an otherworldly glow radiating from their depths. His gaze turned cold, calculating, and merciless—inhuman.
The heartbeat came again, louder this time, vibrating through the air.
The figures staggered backward, their once-relentless assault broken. Their synchronized movements faltered, and for the first time, they hesitated. Their glowing eyes dimmed slightly as if bowing to an invisible force, one they couldn't comprehend.
Dark—or what appeared to be Dark—slowly rose to his feet. His posture was different now, relaxed but exuding a palpable, suffocating menace. The shadows around him flared to life, no longer flickering weakly but roaring like a tidal wave. They twisted and coiled with malicious intent, enveloping the wasteland in a choking darkness.
The figures backed away, their mechanical limbs trembling as their sensors failed to process the overwhelming energy radiating from Dark. The ground beneath him cracked and splintered, unable to bear the weight of his presence.
Dark's lips curled into a faint, twisted smile, his voice low and dripping with malice.
Dark: (softly, but with an edge-Speaking through Dark's body and soul) Oh, you thought...how could you..Dark.
The voice wasn't his.
Sukojo strolled forward, his hands buried deep in his pockets. His steps were leisurely, almost playful, but the sheer pressure of his presence weighed on the atmosphere like a storm about to break.
Sukojo: (casually, almost teasing) Look at you crazy bastards. Running around, pretending to be strong.
One of the figures shifted nervously, their metallic limbs trembling. Their synthesized voice crackled with fear.
Figure 2: Y-You... You're-
Sukojo's smirk twisted into something sharp, cruel. His voice cut through the figure's stuttering like a blade.
Sukojo: (interrupting) Sukojo. The Devourer Of All. And you...
He raised a finger lazily, as though pointing out something insignificant. The figure didn't even have time to react. In the blink of an eye, they were sliced into four perfectly symmetrical pieces, the remains collapsing to the ground in eerie silence.
Sukojo: (softly, mocking) ...are weak. Teehee.
His light laugh echoed in the still air, chilling and unnerving. He tilted his head back slightly, breathing in deeply as though savoring the moment. Then, his expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he turned his head sharply toward the horizon.
Sukojo: (to himself, smirking) Oh? What's this? Company.
In the distance, shadows shifted, and the outline of a group began to take form. Cron led the charge, his movements calculated, his golden eyes fixed on Sukojo. Behind him were Gilmuar and Leona, each carrying themselves with tension coiled in their bodies like springs ready to snap. Tier trailed at the rear, visibly uneasy, his steps hesitant as though every instinct told him to turn back.
Cron: (thinking, watching Sukojo) Is this man being for real?
Sukojo's smirk widened without even glancing at Cron.
Sukojo: (amused) You know I can hear you, right?
Cron froze, his jaw tightening as Sukojo's mocking voice rang out again.
Sukojo: (lightly) And yes, I'm being for real real.
He chuckled softly, the sound a cruel mockery of mirth. But then his laughter abruptly stopped. His expression shifted, and he stared at Cron, his gaze brimming with disdain and superiority.
Cron: (sternly) Which Sukojo are you?
Sukojo tilted his head, his grin spreading wider. His tone turned darker, colder.
Sukojo: (smoothly) The real one. Not the puppet who fought Nature in Dark's body. No... I'm the one who doesn't need a host. I just decided to connect with Dark for a moment. Nothing bad.
Cron's eyes widened slightly. His usually composed expression faltered as the weight of Sukojo's words sank in. Slowly, he glanced toward Gilmuar, giving him a subtle nod.
Gilmuar stepped forward without hesitation. He shrugged off his heavy jacket and tossed it to the ground in one smooth motion. The fabric landed with a muted thud, but the action carried weight, a signal that things were about to escalate.
As Gilmuar moved, the air seemed to shift, growing heavier with each step. His gravitational aura rippled faintly, distorting the space around him. His eyes glowed with a fiery intensity, burning with a mix of anger and anticipation.
Gilmuar: (calmly, with a smirk) So, you're the real Sukojo, huh?
He tilted his head slightly, locking eyes with Sukojo, his gaze steady and unyielding.
Gilmuar: (smirking wider) Oi... Sukojo.
Sukojo: (raising a brow) Hmm?
Gilmuar: (mocking yet serious) You'd better not hold back. Because if you do... I'll be forced to grasp the No-Bidding Sword. You know what that means, don't you?
At this, Sukojo's laugh burst out, loud and sharp, echoing through the cavern. It was a laugh that spoke of amusement and contempt, but just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. His expression morphed into one of utter disgust as his gaze flicked back to Cron, as though Gilmuar wasn't even worth addressing.
Sukojo: (coldly) Hmm. If you can block this next attack... I might consider taking you seriously.
Cron: (thinking, wary) What kind of attack is he abou-..
Sukojo extended his right arm forward in a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers spreading out. The air around him seemed to twist and distort, a ripple of dark energy radiating outward as if the very fabric of reality was bending to his will.
Sukojo: (softly, sinister) Show me. Don't disappoint me.
The weight of his presence pressed down on them like a tidal wave as the attack began to form.
The air around them became suffocatingly heavy as Sukojo tilted his head slightly, his cold gaze piercing through Gilmuar.
Sukojo: (coldly, tilting his head) Open.
A deafening silence filled the space, and then, with an ominous rumble, four massive gates materialized behind Gilmuar, their intricate designs glowing faintly with an ancient, malevolent energy. Each gate was larger than the last, and behind them all, a fifth gate loomed. It dwarfed the others, its sheer size making it feel like the entire space was bending to accommodate it. The air rippled around it, distorting like heatwaves.
Gilmuar's breathing hitched. Slowly, he turned his head to glance behind him, but the moment his eyes moved, an instinctual dread gripped his body. His every instinct screamed at him not to look, yet his curiosity pushed against his better judgment. His body, however, refused to obey, frozen in place.
Gilmuar: (shakily) What... is this?...
Sukojo's lips curled into a faint, chilling smile, his tone dripping with mockery.
Sukojo: You wanted me to take you seriously, right? So I'm just showing you a mere fraction of what I can do.
He exhaled softly, a thick black smoke escaping his lips, dissipating into the already darkened atmosphere. The smoke seemed alive, swirling and twisting unnaturally, adding to the suffocating tension.
Sukojo: (coldly) Die.
In an instant, a thin, almost imperceptible line appeared in the air in front of Sukojo. It was like a line drawn on a blank canvas—so simple yet utterly terrifying. The line wasn't just black; it was an absence of everything. No light, no matter, no existence. It was nothingness incarnate.
The line surged forward, cutting through the very fabric of the verse. It moved soundlessly, its sheer presence erasing everything in its path. As it approached Gilmuar, his instincts screamed louder than ever, but his body betrayed no fear. Instead, his lips curled into a smirk.
Gilmuar: (thinking, smirking) You thought.
In a blink, Gilmuar vanished, leaving only an afterimage in the path of the deadly line. The line sliced cleanly through the afterimage, erasing it as if it had never existed.
Sukojo's expression didn't falter. His eyes rolled to the side, following the faint ripple in the air. The perspective shifted, and the camera moved to where Sukojo's gaze landed.
It was Gilmuar. Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl. His body was coiled with tension, every muscle primed as his fist hovered inches away from Sukojo's face. The sheer force behind the punch warped the air, and for a moment, it felt as though the entire verse held its breath.
But Sukojo wasn't there to meet the blow. He walked slowly around Gilmuar. He was behind him, standing calmly as though nothing had happened.
Sukojo: (casually) Hmm. This man can easily avoid Linear Lines. Impressive.
Sukojo raised his right hand and starts patting Gilmuar's head.
Before Gilmuar could even react, he felt a strange sensation—something soft brushing against his hair. Sukojo's hand rested gently on his head, patting it as though he were a child.
Sukojo: (softly, almost amused) Good job. You did well. And in return, I shall show you... another fraction.
Time seemed to catch up all at once. Gilmuar's body, now moving in real-time, fell toward the ground with a heavy thud. But before he could hit, he repelled himself with a burst of gravitational energy, propelling upward into the air. He twisted mid-flight and landed cleanly on his feet, his hand instinctively reaching for his hair.
Gilmuar: (thinking, confused) The hell? Did he stop time? Or was he moving so fast that time itself stopped?
He looked up at Sukojo, his usual confidence replaced by something rare: fear. His eyes bore into Sukojo, searching for answers, but all he could feel was the overwhelming, oppressive spiritual pressure radiating from the man before him.
Gilmuar: (thinking, trembling) What... are you? This man... he actually lived as a normal human once? No... this is no human.
Sukojo's smirk returned, his gaze filled with an almost playful malice as he tilted his head again, watching Gilmuar with the calm detachment of a predator toying with its prey.
Sukojo: (mockingly) You wanted to see what I can do, didn't you? Well, don't stop now. We're just getting started.
Sukojo takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his aura rippling faintly like an untamed storm. His eyes glinted with cold amusement as he spoke, his tone sharp and condescending.
Sukojo: Tell me, Gilmuar. Do you know what truly stands between life and death?
Gilmuar: (thinking) What the hell is he asking? Is this a trick?
Gilmuar: No. Should I?
Sukojo: Oh, come on. Isn't your brother Kenzo? Surely, someone of his caliber would know.
Gilmuar's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and confusion flashing across his face. His voice faltered as he responded.
Gilmuar: Yeah. How do you know him?
Sukojo's smirk disappeared in an instant. His expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with a cold intensity that sent a shiver down Gilmuar's spine.
Sukojo: The reason I'm here now is because of him. I am currently fighting him in another world.
The weight of his words crushed the air around them. Gilmuar staggered, disbelief evident in his voice.
Gilmuar: What?! How are you this strong?
Gilmuar: (thinking) Initiate Magic? No way. That magic has a range limit—it caps at the Supernova Level in both power and precision. There's no way this man can be fighting Kenzo in another world simultaneously... unless...
Gilmuar: (thinking) Unless his Initiate Magic exceeds every known boundary. But that's impossible. Just what is this man?
Gilmuar clenched his fists, trying to steady his breathing. Finally, he forced the words out.
Gilmuar: Hey, Sukojo. Is Kenzo holding up? Is he... worthy?
Sukojo tilted his head slightly, his expression almost mocking.
Sukojo: Ehhhh, nah. Right now, he's just throwing around attacks that could erase every verse that exists.
The words hit Gilmuar like a hammer. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, his hands pressing against the cracked wasteland as if the earth itself could stabilize him. He could barely whisper his response.
Gilmuar: Huh?
Sukojo: (coldly) In short, your brother is weak. You? You have far more potential than him.
The statement hung in the air like a death sentence. Before Gilmuar could respond, Cron stepped forward, his movements deliberate, every step exuding a quiet but overwhelming authority. His aura began to grow, expanding like an infinite storm, a chaotic blend of countless energies that twisted and writhed in harmony.
Cron: Sukojo.
Sukojo: Eh? What do you want?
Cron: Gadora.
Sukojo's eyes widened—just for a fraction of a second—but the reaction didn't go unnoticed. His smirk returned, though there was a tension behind it now.
As Cron walked closer, another presence materialized beside him, her movements as fluid as the wind itself. Nature emerged, her form radiating an ethereal brilliance, the embodiment of balance and destruction. She cast a sidelong glance at Cron, her voice carrying a subtle warmth laced with power.
Nature: Long time no see, Cron.
Cron: Yeah. Let's end this...
Nature: Together.
Their steps synchronized, and as they moved, the very air seemed to sing with energy. A blinding radiance enveloped them as their bodies dissolved into one another. The fusion was seamless—light and darkness intertwined, creating a figure of impossible beauty and terror.
The combined entity stood tall, their form cloaked in an ever-shifting mantle of light and shadow. Their eyes burned with a golden hue, streaked with veins of emerald and black. The aura around them was not just oppressive—it was reality-altering. Space bent and fractured under their presence, the wasteland itself trembling in submission.
Sukojo's smirk widened. He clenched his fists, the veins in his arms pulsing as his aura surged, rippling through the air like a tidal wave. In a single, incomprehensible motion, he vanished from where he stood.
In an instant, he was directly in front of Cron.
Sukojo's fist was already in motion, tearing through the air with a force that obliterated everything in its path. The blow carried enough destructive energy to shatter not just worlds but entire verses. The sheer pressure created cracks in the surrounding fabric of space, rippling outward like a cataclysmic shockwave.
Cron—or rather, the combined entity of Cron and Nature—reacted with precision. They raised an arm, their movements almost casual, and caught the blow. The resulting impact was deafening, an explosion of light and sound that carved a crater into the earth beneath them. The ground trembled, fissures spreading outward for miles.
The two figures stood locked in place, their auras clashing violently, creating a storm of energy that tore through the wasteland. Sukojo's grin widened, his voice dripping with amusement.
Sukojo: Not bad. But this? This isn't even scratching the surface.
He twisted his body, throwing another punch with his free hand. Cron shifted slightly, deflecting the blow with the back of their hand. The deflection alone created another shockwave, the force ripping apart the ground behind them.
Nature's voice echoed from within the fusion, calm and unwavering.
Nature: (coldly) Is this all you have, Sukojo?
Sukojo: (laughing) Oh, you haven't even seen what I can do.
His aura flared, tendrils of dark energy lashing out like living entities. The tendrils snaked through the air, aiming for Cron's core. In response, Cron's aura erupted outward, forming a barrier of pure, blinding energy. The tendrils struck the barrier and disintegrated instantly, but they reformed just as quickly, relentless in their assault.
Cron: (calmly) You're persistent. I'll give you that.
Sukojo: (grinning) And you're predictable.
In a sudden burst of speed, Sukojo darted to Cron's side, his fist already mid-swing. Cron turned, their movements fluid, and blocked the attack with a glowing hand. The impact sent another shockwave ripping through the air, but this time, Cron retaliated.
With a flick of their wrist, they sent Sukojo flying backward, his body skidding across the wasteland before coming to a halt. He stood up slowly, brushing the dust from his shoulders as if nothing had happened.
Sukojo: (smirking) Alright. You've got my attention.
Cron: (sternly) Good. Because we're not holding back.
Their aura flared once more, the sheer intensity of it dimming the light around them. Sukojo laughed, his voice echoing through the chaos.
Sukojo: Finally. A challenge worth my time.
He lunged forward again, his movements faster than ever, and the fight resumed with even greater ferocity.
To Be Continued.
End Of Arc 4 Chapter 5.