Rehan's fist met Gluttony's gaping maw dead center.
There was no sound in the vacuum — only the visual violence of it, Gluttony's bloated form rupturing outward in a silent supernova of black-gold light, its stolen hunger finally choking on more power than it could ever hope to swallow. It didn't scream. It simply ceased, scattering into the dark like ash caught in a wind that didn't exist.
Two down.
The Scarlet King's whole body jolted as if struck, one knee buckling in the void. "You—" he gasped, clutching at his own chest. "That's not just a Sin dying. That's my strength you're tearing out—"
"Then stop hiding behind it," Rehan said, already moving.
Envy came next, its jealous green flame lashing out in a desperate, uncoordinated frenzy — the panic of something that finally understood it might not survive the hour. Rehan caught one grasping tendril mid-strike, followed it hand-over-hand straight to its source, and closed his fist around the Sin's core with the flat, merciless efficiency of a man closing a door.
Envy unraveled with a final, resentful hiss.
Three down.
The King dropped fully to one knee now, blood — his blood, Scarlet's blood, both fused into one — leaking freely from his nose and eyes. "How," he choked, "how are you not even slowing down—"
Lust tried its final gambit, its illusion flickering into Ishita's exact face, voice, warmth — a cruel, desperate weapon aimed at the one wound Rehan couldn't armor against.
For half a second, Rehan's fist froze in the air.
Just half a second.
"She would never," Rehan said quietly, "hide behind someone else's pain to save herself."
The illusion shattered along with the Sin wearing it, dissolving into humiliated crimson dust. Lust didn't even get the chance to scream.
Four down.
Greed and Wrath, the last two, finally understood the shape of the thing they were facing and broke formation entirely, no longer coordinating, simply trying to survive — which made them easier, not harder. Rehan tore through Greed's hundred grasping arms in three efficient strikes, and Wrath's screaming mirror-army shattered the instant its central core lost the will to keep splitting itself apart.
Six down.
Only Pride remained — untouched, unmoved, still standing exactly where it had first appeared, crowned head slightly tilted, watching everything with cold, patient curiosity.
And kneeling in the open void before them both, stripped of his court, his crimson glaive trembling in one weakened hand, was the Scarlet King — breathing hard, bleeding from a hundred sympathetic wounds he'd never physically taken, his stolen godhood flickering like a candle in a hurricane.lls
"Impossible," he rasped. "Six sins. A goddess's own corrupted essence. And you're not even breathing hard."
Rehan floated down in front of him slowly, his shoulder wound still open, black-gold blood still drifting off him in the vacuum — the only visible proof that any of this had cost him anything at all.
"I told you already," Rehan said, voice flat, final, utterly without mercy. "I don't need to survive this. I only need you gone before I do."
He raised his fist, aura condensing into something impossibly dense and bright around his knuckles — the first true killing blow of the entire battle, aimed squarely at the Scarlet King's core.
Pride, still silent, still watching, finally moved — stepping directly between them at the last possible instant.