After Natasha Romanoff and Katie Dee retreated, the training field was suddenly swallowed by a transparent cube of light.
Mist poured inside like ghostly breath.
Ryuuto stood in the center, his palms raised, veins glowing faintly red. This was his Original Realm Stripping Technique—a jutsu that peeled away reality itself.
Hela had been toying with him earlier, blinking in and out of the same courtyard like a cat playing with a dying mouse. So Ryuuto made a bet: if he locked the entire area inside his own created realm, could she still escape?
The answer came in an explosion.
When the world reformed, the school's backyard was gone—replaced by a massive crater. Smoke curled up from the rim as if the ground itself had been scorched from existence.
Ryuuto stood at the edge, his breath steady but his shirt shredded by the gale. The wind had torn his sleeves and pants until he looked like he'd been through a blender.
Still, his lips curled in that familiar half-smirk.
"If that doesn't kill her," he muttered, "then I might need divine insurance."
He waited—five minutes, then ten. Nothing.
Just as he turned to leave, a soft cough echoed through the haze. Not deliberate. Weak. Human.
Ryuuto's eyes narrowed.
Hela emerged from the far end of the crater, her once-imperious poise broken. Her gown was torn in several places, a long slit exposing a flash of black beneath. Her hair hung loose, wild, as if she'd just crawled out of the underworld itself—which, to be fair, she had.
The Original Realm Stripping had torn through her essence, leaving faint cracks in her pale skin. Even now, they glimmered faintly before healing shut, one by one.
She leaned on her death-scythe for support, glaring across the pit.
"In your current state," Ryuuto said coldly, "your reaction speed's trash. If you care about living another century, go back to your kingdom. Underworld Queen or not—" he pointed two fingers at her "—you're still just another target to me."
Hela scoffed softly. "You shouldn't be this strong. A human body can't endure such speed. The wind pressure alone should've sliced you to pieces."
"Guess my body didn't get the memo," he said.
"Arrogant little mortal…" Her aura rippled with cold fury. "Still, you've earned something. You're the first human who's ever forced me to kneel."
Ryuuto tilted his head. "So what, you want a medal or a marriage proposal?"
"Perhaps both," Hela said, dead serious.
"…Excuse me?"
Her tone softened. "I once swore—whoever defeats me shall be my husband."
Ryuuto blinked. "...You can keep that promise to yourself, thanks."
She smiled faintly, wounded pride twisting into amusement. "Oh? Afraid of me, Red Mirage?"
"Not afraid," he said, voice dry. "Just not into corpses."
That made her laugh—low and dark, echoing like a funeral bell. "I could make you king of the underworld, Ryuuto. You, me, and every soul beneath us. Doesn't that tempt you?"
"You're tempting me," he said flatly.
"Correct."
"Then sorry." He cracked his neck, the air warping with residual chakra. "I'm not interested in you… or your little hellhole."
Hela stepped closer, her ruined gown dragging like shadows. "Impossible. I am still a beauty."
Ryuuto gave her one long look and sighed. "You are. But beauty doesn't mean warmth. And I prefer someone alive."
Her expression froze. Then she smiled again, half-mocking, half-impressed. "How fascinating. Even gods don't reject me this way."
Ryuuto turned his back, walking toward the edge of the crater. "Guess I'm not a god."
A faint shimmer of green energy rippled behind him—Hela's realm calling her back.
"Until next time, human," she whispered.
Ryuuto didn't turn around. "Don't die before then, Queen of Corpses."
And with that, both vanished—one into the underworld, the other into the storm.