The ground steamed where his blood met it.
Yuu stood only because he refused to fall. Every muscle trembled; every bone felt splintered from within. Breath rasped through him, shallow and irregular, as if each draw of air might be his last.
The forging of Arsenal Blade 0 had nearly ended him. Time had lost meaning during the fire. Pain had not. It had reached beyond the flesh—an agony that pulled at the roots of who he was.
Then silence.
And after silence, awareness.
He woke in the ruins of the training arena, the air around him thin and metallic. Above, the Goddess watched with folded arms and the faint shimmer of broken wings.
"You're alive," she said.
He forced a dry laugh that ended in a cough. "No thanks to you."
Her smile was light, almost amused. "You wanted power. Power answers only in pain."
He tried to lift the new blade. His arm shook under its weight. The weapon pulsed with a black light, layered sigils running down its rough edge—a monstrous thing, forged from his own soul and reversed time. It was heavy enough to crush him simply by existing.
"Arsenal Blade 0," the Goddess said softly, "is not a weapon. It's a burden. It mirrors the pain of its wielder. Now it mirrors you."
Yuu pushed himself upright. Bones shifted. The sound that escaped him was neither word nor cry, just the breath of someone forcing existence to obey.
He stood.
A tremor rolled through the arena.
The sky peeled open.
From the wound between dimensions, something vast descended—an armored creature, its body ringed with rotating obsidian plates and hearts of crimson light.
Vult'ira, Devourer of Evolution.
An S-plus predator. Intelligent. Unforgiving. It had not been summoned; it had found him.
The beast's roar broke the clouds. Air folded beneath its voice as it lunged.
The blow hurled Yuu backward. Stone burst apart where he struck. Pain rippled through his ribs, but he forced his feet beneath him once more. He tasted iron and dust.
"I can't move like before," he whispered. His mana was ash, his aura shattered. Yet the blade still pulsed, feeding on whatever was left of him.
The monster blurred. Shadows split into three images; the real one fell from above. Yuu raised the blade in time. Impact shook the ground. Sparks cut the air.
He slid back, leaving trenches in the stone. His body swayed but did not yield.
"You're not going to kill me," he said, voice a hoarse murmur.
The creature answered with motion—its claws a storm of metal.
He turned, meeting the next strike. The shock flung him sideways. Pain surged along his shoulder; his breath caught. Still he rose.
"She's watching me suffer again," he muttered.
But the Goddess did not speak. This was his battle.
The beast charged once more, jaws spreading wide. Yuu twisted aside, but the edge of a blade tore a shallow line across his side. Warmth ran down his skin. His fingers tightened on the hilt.
The blade's pulse quickened, hungry.
He let the breath leave him slowly. A black haze unfurled from his core—steam made of shadow.
"Fine," he whispered to the weapon. "If you want pain… take it."
He drove the blade into the ground.
The earth answered. Black veins raced outward, forming sigils that burned against the marble floor. The coliseum shook beneath a surge of inverted mana.
The beast hesitated, then screamed and leapt.
Yuu met it head-on.
Each step felt like walking through fire, but precision guided him. His first strike severed one of its legs. Dark ichor sprayed. The creature recoiled, then spun and struck him with its tail. The world reeled. He hit the ground, vision flaring white.
He forced one eye open. A corner of his mouth lifted. "Still here."
The monster gathered its strength.
He waited, silent. When it dove, he moved with it—blade turning in his ruined grip. The weapon glowed, not with heat but with the echo of his own suffering. He twisted his wrist and released that stored torment.
Light exploded upward.
A black spear of aura pierced the creature's torso. The Devourer convulsed, its roar breaking apart into air. Still, it refused to die.
Yuu advanced again.
For long minutes there was nothing but motion—steel and claw, the rhythm of destruction. Dust drowned the arena; the walls collapsed into smoke. When at last the noise faded, only one figure remained standing.
Yuu.
The sword buried beside him like a marker over the dead.
Behind him, the creature lay in ruin. His body trembled; his breath came thin and broken, yet his eyes still carried that quiet fire.
Above, the Goddess's voice drifted down, almost tender.
"You should have died. But you didn't."
He spat blood and answered, "I don't die until I decide to."
He collapsed.
The blade clattered beside him, its metal hissing as it cooled. Steam rose from his body; the scent of ozone hung in the air. Consciousness slipped away and returned in uneven waves.
Footsteps approached—soft, deliberate. The Goddess knelt beside him, her expression unreadable.
"I said you wouldn't die," she murmured, placing a hand on his chest. "I never promised comfort."
A faint glow passed through her fingers. His breathing steadied, barely. He coughed, eyes finding hers.
"You healed me?"
"No. I kept the pieces from drifting apart." Her smile was thin. "Your suffering belongs to you."
A convulsion seized him. His frame arched against the ground as raw energy tore through what remained of his nerves. Breath failed; light crackled from his fingertips. Then, just as suddenly, the tremor eased. He lay still, gasping.
The Goddess exhaled softly. "You truly are broken."
The coliseum dissolved.
He lay now on a moonlit cliff, a ritual circle beneath him, its lines glowing pale blue. The Goddess lifted one hand; a single spark fell and bloomed into a fire that cast no shadow.
"This is your reward," she said. "You've earned Bonefire access."
He lifted his head. "What is it?"
"A fragment of rebirth. Sit before it. Let it burn your broken spirit clean."
He crawled toward the flame. Every motion scraped against the edges of exhaustion. Yet he reached it and sat.
The world vanished.
He floated in darkness filled with reflections—hundreds of versions of himself suspended in glass. Some young, some weary, some cruel. Each watched him in silence.
One stepped forward, a copy draped in shadow, a crown dangling from its hand.
"You think you're special?" it asked.
"No."
"You think you're a hero?"
"No."
"Then why keep going?"
Yuu's fists tightened. "Because I haven't lost yet."
The reflection's gaze cracked; a sound like glass under pressure filled the void. One by one, the others shattered, their voices lost in the rush of breaking light.
When all was still again, a whisper came from the fire that existed beyond the dark:
Pain remembered. Pain accepted. Pain refined.
He opened his eyes.
The cliff returned. The Goddess stood above him, arms folded. His own eyes now burned with faint gold.
She smiled. "You've survived the Bonefire."
Yuu rose, slow but steady. The Goddess turned to leave.
"One more thing," he said.
She paused.
"Why did you really give me Arsenal Blade 0? You said it wasn't meant to exist."
Her expression barely shifted. "Because you weren't meant to exist either."
Silver wind swept through the night. She was gone.
Yuu looked down at his hand. The blade flickered back into being, its edge pulsing with quiet light—as if it, too, had passed through the fire.
He tightened his grip.
"I'll become the reason this world breaks," he murmured, "or the reason it survives."