Facing the blazing, high-temperature beam roaring toward him, Ren Kuroda's first instinct was to trigger his Half-Oni Transformation.
But hesitation flickered through his mind.
If he deliberately stepped outside the boundaries of "human"—
Would Aẕ Dahāka's power, in turn, surge even further?
There was no time to test that theory.
"Blade Spirit Release!"
"Divine Thunder Rampage—Heaven's Blessing, Momentum of the Thunder Star—Move Like Thunder: Rokuzon!"
He made his choice in an instant.
If Half-Oni Transformation carried unknown risks—
Then he would stake everything on another path.
A flash of white lightning erupted without warning.
In that moment, Ren resembled a thunder god descending upon the battlefield, his entire body wreathed in crackling arcs of electricity.
Empowered by the divine blade spirit, Move Like Thunder exploded forth—no longer a mere slash, but a white bolt that seemed to pierce the sky itself.
It collided head-on with the golden beam spewing from Aẕ Dahāka's jaws.
White lightning and golden radiance clashed midair.
The storm generated by their collision tore across the battlefield, hurling nearby combatants away in a violent shockwave.
Yet the stalemate Ren had hoped for never materialized.
The white lightning held for only a fleeting moment—
Before it began to buckle.
Gradually.
Inevitably.
Forced backward by the overwhelming golden beam.
Ren understood the reality of it.
Even with Blade Spirit Release amplifying the power of his strike, without Half-Oni Transformation, he was only barely within the four-digit realm.
Aẕ Dahāka, on the other hand—
Even setting aside his monstrous Gifts and the horror of Avesta—
Was a bona fide top-tier three-digit Demon King.
Even if "Move Like Thunder," as a Gift, surpassed this particular dragon breath in raw quality—
The difference between their users was insurmountable.
Ren reached into the void and drew forth a massive gourd.
Pulling the cork free, he stood bathed in lightning—blade in one hand, gourd in the other—and began to drink.
The liquor stored within the Endless Gourd had aged for an extraordinarily long time.
Its quality now was the highest it had ever been.
Originally, Ren had planned to save it as one of his final trump cards.
But the bitter irony was clear—
Aẕ Dahāka had casually exhaled a single breath, and Ren was already forced to fight with everything he had.
The liquor burned down his throat.
His aura surged.
The lightning dancing along his blade grew wilder. More violent.
The golden beam that had nearly crushed him into the earth began to falter.
White lightning roared back with renewed fury.
Condensed into a single piercing thrust, it transformed into a spear of pure thunder—concentrated at a single point, shattering the golden beam from the center and ripping it apart inch by inch.
Even Aẕ Dahāka, whose gaze had thus far been laced with amusement—
Showed a flicker of surprise.
Clearly, he had not expected Ren to reverse the tide from such a disadvantage.
The lightning's acceleration was overwhelming.
By the time Aẕ Dahāka sensed the shift and prepared to intensify his breath—
Ren, cloaked in thunder, was already upon him.
The golden beam disintegrated.
But the storm did not subside.
Appearing before Aẕ Dahāka with the force of a lightning strike, Ren thrust forward without hesitation—
His target:
An eye.
After witnessing Aẕ Dahāka casually receive Izayoi and His Highness's world-shattering punches without so much as flinching, Ren had reached a conclusion.
The dragon's body was monstrously durable.
Even the strongest technique in his arsenal might fail to inflict meaningful damage.
But no matter the creature—
Eyes were vulnerable.
Soft.
Lethal.
He refused to believe his blade couldn't pierce even that.
Aẕ Dahāka seemed to read his intent.
And he had no interest in becoming one-eyed.
As the thunder spear screamed toward him, one of his massive jaws snapped open and lunged at Ren.
Ren's speed was extraordinary—biting him mid-charge wasn't guaranteed.
But if Ren insisted on driving his blade into the eye, his velocity would inevitably drop at the moment of impact.
Would he trade injury for injury?
Or retreat?
Aẕ Dahāka was curious.
He had three heads.
Six eyes.
Losing one was trivial.
But for Ren—
A single miscalculation wouldn't mean injury.
It would mean death.
Notably, Aẕ Dahāka did not dodge.
Nor did he blink.
He widened his eyes instead, staring directly at Ren.
The message was unmistakable.
As a Human Final Trial—
He welcomed those who dared to challenge him.
"Interesting," the three voices echoed.
"I accept your challenge."
Would Ren retreat?
Of course not.
He knew full well that trading wounds was reckless.
One mistake—and he'd be finished.
But he also knew something else.
An opportunity like this—
To severely wound Aẕ Dahāka—
Might never come again.
The storm howled across the sky.
Thunder split the heavens.
Ren's blade plunged forward—
And pierced through Aẕ Dahāka's eye.
The divine blade sank in to the hilt.
Blood erupted from the ruined right eye.
But before the crimson liquid even touched the ground—
It transformed.
Each droplet twisted and expanded into Divine Spirit–class twin-headed dragon split bodies, roaring as they surged toward Sara, Black Rabbit, and the others.
Aẕ Dahāka, even with an eye destroyed, did not cry out.
He did not flinch.
Instead—
At the very moment he suffered that grievous wound—
His jaws snapped shut toward the now-stationary Ren.
Just as he had anticipated—
No matter how fast lightning was, once the thrust struck its mark and failed to fully pierce his skull, Ren's forward motion would cease.
Before Ren could withdraw his blade—
Aẕ Dahāka's massive mouth closed in.
A blood-drenched maw aimed to swallow him whole.
Yet—
Ren seemed prepared.
With his left hand, he thrust forward—
Directly into the dragon's mouth.
The next instant, Aẕ Dahāka felt something jam between his upper and lower jaws—
Forcing them apart with brutal strength.
His bite failed to close.
Through the vision of his remaining two heads, he saw it clearly.
The object wedged between his fangs—
Was the very same oversized gourd Ren had been drinking from moments earlier.
That unassuming wine gourd—
Was stopping his bite.
..
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