"Damn it... it rained... Great timing..."
Itoshi muttered as he watched in silence as the rain fell.
Above the battlefield, Ayro and Kara loomed, their presence as heavy as the storm itself. Below, Ryujin and Roger clashed—element against element—light and fury colliding in the heart of the downpour.
Yet strangely, not a single drop of rain touched them.
A field shimmered faintly around the two combatants, invisible yet absolute. The storm bent around it, repelled as if by an unseen barrier. Whatever force protected them, it was clear: this was no ordinary fight.
"With that speed.. I feel... not even rain can touch them... Can I really do it? Ayro-san?"
Itoshi asked.
Ayro turned his sharp gaze toward his ally. With a slight nod—barely perceptible through the rain—he gave his silent approval.
Itoshi felt a wave of relief wash over him, though it came tangled with unease. The move had been agreed upon, but executing it was another matter. Timing would be everything.
He gripped the edge of his cloak tighter, eyes locked on the duel below. All he needed now was the perfect moment.
"Just one opening... I can do it..."
Ryujin's breathing grew heavier, each inhale more ragged than the last. The weight of exhaustion clung to his body like chains, slowing his strikes, dulling his reflexes. His once-fluid movements now carried the stiffness of fatigue.
Above the clash of powers, one thing became clear—even to those watching from the shadows. Ryujin was running out of steam. And if nothing changed soon, he was going to lose.
"At this rate... I'm gonna fall... Damn it Roger! You've never changed... Still. I ain't letting you have fun with Ashura."
Ryujin thought to himself.
"Aw... I didn't know you're quite possessive, Ryujin-kun~"
Ashura teased in Ryujin's mind.
"Shut up!"
But Ryujin refused to yield. His body screamed for rest, his vision blurred at the edges, and yet—he stood. Teeth clenched. Eyes burning. Not out of pride, but out of purpose.
He couldn't let Ashura out. No matter how desperate the battle became, no matter how close defeat loomed, unleashing Ashura was not an option.
He had sworn it long ago. Because if Ashura surfaced... Roger wouldn't be the only one in danger. The battlefield, the sky, the world itself could suffer the consequences.
Ryujin dug his heels into the cracked earth, his energy flickering like a dying flame—yet still burning. Not yet. Not like this.
"I need to make an opening... for..."
Just as the edge of collapse threatened to claim him, a thought struck Ryujin—sharp and sudden.
An idea. His eyes flicked sideways, fast but deliberate, toward his squad watching from the ridge.
It was a glance that lasted only a fraction of a second, but it carried weight. A silent message passed through it—urgent, unspoken, understood only by those who had trained beside him long enough to read such things.
His squad straightened, tension crackling through their stance like static. Ryujin didn't need words. The plan had shifted. And now, it was up to them to act.
"No! He might do better than Ayro!"
As Ryujin's mind raced, piecing together the threads of a desperate opening, his focus drifted—just for a heartbeat.
A fraction of a second.
But on a battlefield like this, that was all it took.
His guard dropped ever so slightly. His stance faltered. And in that fleeting moment, he was exposed.
Roger saw it. Like a predator sensing weakness, his eyes lit up with brutal precision. His footing shifted, ready to strike with the full force of his advantage.
Ryujin's gamble had bought him an idea... but it might cost him everything if he couldn't recover fast enough.
Roger didn't hesitate. He lunged low, the air around him twisting into a concentrated force. Wind coiled around his leg like a serpent as he drove a sweeping kick toward Ryujin's abdomen, sharp and fast as a scythe through wheat.
Ryujin barely managed to react. He dropped his arm, intercepting the strike just in time—but the wind-infused blow still carried devastating power. The air itself exploded outward with the impact, howling as it launched Ryujin off his feet.
That single attack caused the rain between the two of them to stop for a whole second.
Ryujin flew backward, crashing through shattered stone and skidding across the drenched battlefield. Mud and water erupted around him in a violent spray. His breath caught in his throat, pain flaring through his ribs. But he was still conscious.
His body ached, but the idea remained. Now, all that mattered was whether his squad caught the signal—and moved.
"Distracted, are we?... Ryujin."
Roger teased.
"This rain is troublesome... I need to make an opening for Itoshi..."
In that moment, as the rain crashed back down and the tension hung heavy, a familiar alarm shattered the stillness.
It blared through the air, cutting across the battlefield with a sharp, unnerving sound.
It was Seele's. The unmistakable warning—echoing across the land like a herald of impending chaos.
Roger's gaze flickered briefly, his focus momentarily split. The storm of battle paused, just for an instant, as the alarm rang out its urgent call.
Ryujin, Itoshi, and Ayro.
In a heartbeat, their minds synchronized—a silent agreement forged in the chaos.
Each felt the pull of a shared purpose, the weight of what came next.
In unison, they screamed the word—not aloud, but within—their voices echoing through the shared bond of their resolve.
It was time.
"Ugh... That's just great."
Floods of Menschlich-class Seele units, their earthbound forms hulking and unyielding, began to pour from the dark waters of Omura Bay.
The ground trembled as they marched, their massive footsteps sending ripples through the rain-soaked earth.
Each step was like the pounding of war drums, heralding the arrival of overwhelming force.
Ryujin, Itoshi, and Ayro could feel the shift—like the sky itself had grown heavier.
This was no longer just a battle between two warriors. It was the beginning of something much larger.
"I have to... We have to make the Seele focus on Roger... But, will I make it in time?... Going back with the others is not an option. It leaves all of us open for him..."
Ryujin paused, mid thought.
"Kirashi won't be able to face all these Seele by himself... Assuming the kunoichi won't return... Roger helping us is not an option... Unless..."
"Dang!"
Roger shouted from the bottom of his lungs.
"Those bitches are now gonna allow us to have fun! I know your struggles as a leader, Ryujin... I do..."
"Is he really giving us this time?... No way..."
Itoshi muttered, loud enough for Ayro and Kara to hear.
"He's giving us time?"
Kara asked,
"Nah. Something is up."
Ayro replied,
"Kara-san. Care to join Kirashi?"
Ayro ordered.
"O-Ok!"
"Hoh?"
Roger's eyes flicked across the battlefield, narrowing as he saw Kara sprinting toward Kirashi. Her movements were fluid, purpose-driven—a warrior ready to stand against the incoming tide.
Kirashi was already preparing, his hands weaving through the air, taking a deep breath to fend off the Earth-type Seele. His energy crackled with intent, each step a declaration of defiance.
"Ryujin! Your new squad has a huge sense of duty, huh?!"
Ryujin smiked, proud and confident.
"Of course... They're mine, after all."
Roger raised a brow, confused.
"Eh..."
Roger's eyes lingered on the battlefield for a moment longer before his hand moved instinctively.
He pulled out a sleek phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up in the rain-soaked gloom.
His thumb hovered over the contact list for a second before he selected a name—a name that would change the course of the conflict.
With a cold breath, he pressed the phone to his ear, the sound of the dial tone ringing out, almost lost amidst the chaos of battle.
The call connected.
"Hello, sir?..."
"No, no... it's important this time, I promise..."
"Well, Seele are flooding right now. Should I continue the mission?... Ah... Yeah, he's proving that he ain't making this operation easy for me..."
"Mhm... Mhm... Ok!..."
The phone call ended abruptly, the faintest click echoing in the silence between the chaos. Roger's thumb slid the device back into his pocket, his gaze never leaving the battlefield.
A sinister smile stretched across his face, slow and deliberate, as if he were savoring the inevitable.
The tension in the air thickened—something darker swirling beneath the surface of his calm.
"Roger that... sir."
~~~To be Continued~~~