The Forsakers closed in.
The clearing exploded with tension.
Shinji rolled his shoulders, breath fogging the rain-soaked air.
Instinctive Surge (本能衝動 / Honnō Shōdō) flickered crimson along rune-scarred arms, muscle twitching, hungry to break.
Opposite him, Hajime's stance lowered, Seiki coiling faint gold beneath his skin like molten dawn waiting to ignite.
Thunder grumbled overhead.
Lanterns hissed, drowning in the downpour.
Moss turned into a swamp. Mud clung and dragged. The scent of iron rot and sap thickened until even breathing felt like work.
The only light now came from veins of Seiki burning in the storm—faint, guttering, alive.
Izumi's lotus browned at the edges, petals curling as her roots clawed deeper for stability.
Rei's sword tilted toward the mud, blue flame guttering against the weight of rain.
Thirty seconds in, and the battlefield held its breath.
The Forsakers stood in a half-circle of chaos.
Iovah's feet sank ankle-deep, unmoving, a monolith carved from scar tissue and spite.
Rain slid off his chest in sheets, tracing the map of old wounds—each a sermon of endurance.
Job's Will pulsed slow, deliberate, a heartbeat that dragged the world down with it.
Megumi's hands trembled, gold light flickering between her fingers like a dying ember.
Her lips moved in silent prayer, but the words tasted of ash.
Hikari's pupils swallowed color. Lament's Call leaked from her throat in a low keen, names of the dead threading the storm like wire.
Takumi's fingers twitched, orange threads forming in the rain, steam curling like a last breath.
Across the cratered pit, Hajime, Rei, and Izumi waited.
No one spoke.
Shinji charged first.
Instinctive Surge (本能衝動 / Honnō Shōdō).
Runes carved into his arms detonated crimson. Muscle tore and reknit in the same heartbeat. He crossed the pit in a blur, cleaver descending in a diagonal arc that parted rain like a guillotine. Hajime met it bare-handed.
Gold-silver Seiki flared along his forearm, hardening into a gauntlet of light. Metal screamed against flesh. The impact threw a geyser of mud skyward, splattering both men in a mask of filth. They locked eyes. Shinji's grin split wider, Hajime's teeth grinding until enamel cracked. Veins bulged in their necks. Mud sucked at their boots.
Both staggered back, boots carving trenches. Shinji spat blood and laughed—short, sharp, wrong. Hajime didn't. He just stepped forward again, fist already chambered.
Takumi's hands flicked.
Doubtweave Threads (懐疑糸 / Kaigi Ito).
Orange cords lashed through the rain, thin as spider silk, sharp as razors. They sought Rei's wrists, his throat, the soft meat behind his knees. Rei swept Uriel's Flame in a tight arc—blue-white fire carving most apart—but three slipped through. They bit. Smoke rose from seared flesh. Rei snarled, ripping free with just muscle. Blood pattered into the mud, hissing where it met Seiki.
Iovah raised one hand.
Endurance Aura (耐久気圧 / Taikyū Kiatsu).
The air thickened. Raindrops hung suspended, trembling, before gravity remembered its job. Izumi's knees buckled. Her vines drooped, thorns wilting. The ground itself seemed to sag, roots groaning under invisible weight. She dug her palm deeper.
Forbidden Fruit Art – Thorn Garden (禁断果術・茨園 / Kindan Kajutsu: Ibarasono).
Roots erupted in a ring around the trio, black-green, thorns longer than fingers. For a heartbeat, they were holding. Then Iovah's Seiki crushed inward. Vines snapped like bones. Thorns shattered into green dust. Izumi coughed blood, the taste of copper.
Hikari's voice sliced the storm.
Mirage Veil (蜃気楼幕 / Shinkirō Maku).
Reality folded. Rain fell up. The clearing stretched into impossible angles—trees leaning inward, the pit yawning wider, Rei's own reflection lunging at him with a blade of blue fire. He slashed through the phantom, blade passing through nothing. The real Hikari was already moving, barefoot, silent, a ghost in the gray.
Megumi stepped through the distortion.
Defiant Light (逆光信仰 / Gyakukō Shinkō).
Eight radiant figures emerged from the haze, golden silhouettes of pleading humanity closing in on Hajime. Their touch left trails of heat in the rain, Seiki shimmering like grief made flesh.
He tore through the first one with a clean swing, and it disintegrated into burning dust.
Then gold-silver Seiki surged through his veins; he drove his hand into the earth, flipped a slab of soaked ground skyward, and slammed it down on the remaining illusions. They shattered beneath the impact, light scattering like embers in the storm.
Adam's voice was a blade in his skull.
"You've improved so much. Keep pushing them."
Hajime roared. The sound tore from his throat raw, animal. He charged blind, fist cocked. Shinji met him halfway.
They collided like freight trains.
Shoulder to shoulder. Bone cracked. Shinji's forehead smashed into Hajime's nose. The cartilage gave way with a wet crunch. Blood exploded across his face. Hajime's hook snapped Shinji's jaw sideways; the sound was a branch breaking in a quiet forest. Shinji's eyes rolled white for a heartbeat. He laughed through the blood and drove his knee into Hajime's ribs. Something shifted inside Hajime's chest. He answered with an elbow that caved Shinji's cheek, splitting skin to bone.
Takumi darted low, threads spiraling toward Izumi's ankles. She cut them with a whip of vines, but more replaced them, weaving a net. Rei stepped in, boot to Takumi's chest. The kick lifted him off his feet, sent him skidding through mud. Takumi choked up blood, orange light pulsing frantically between his fingers. He grinned through it. "Damn... that hurt like hell."
Iovah advanced.
Each step sank to the knee. His aura deepened—rain slowed to a crawl, suspended like glass beads. Rei's sword trembled; Hajime's arms felt like lead. Izumi's vines sagged, thorns dripping sap like blood. She raised her arm anyway.
Forbidden Fruit Art – Bloom Sanctuary (禁断果術・花守 / Kindan Kajutsu: Hanamori).
Petals erupted around the trio, glowing softly as they healed. For one heartbeat, the weight lifted. Breathing steadied.
Megumi's light flared. "Iovah, stop—"
He didn't. His face was stone, eyes hollow. Mercy was a word he'd buried long ago.
Rei lunged through the haze.
Uriel's Flame carved a burning arc. Steel met bone—Iovah caught the blade bare-handed. The edge bit, carving a groove through the palm to the wrist. Blood sheeted down his arm, mixing with rain. He pushed. Rei's boots carved furrows, sword tip gouging earth.
"End it already. This is pathetic." Uriel hissed inside him.
Rei bit his cheek until he tasted iron. Blue-white fire coiled around his body, haloing his frame in searing light.
"Uriel's Ascension (ウリエル昇天 / Urieru Shōten)."
Izumi's hands rose, trembling.
Forbidden Fruit Art – Verdant Tempest (禁断果術・翠嵐 / Kindan Kajutsu: Suiran).
Wind screamed through the clearing, leaves sharp as shuriken. The storm ripped Hikari's illusions apart—trees snapped back to true, the pit shrank to its real size. Hikari staggered, blood leaking from both ears. Megumi dropped beside her, gold light flaring under her palms, knitting ruptured vessels.
Eve's whisper was faint.
"Don't push yourself and lose control, little one."
"I know," Izumi breathed. Her voice cracked. "Just a little longer."
The ground shuddered.
Iovah's aura pulsed—heavier, crueler. The center of the pit collapsed inward, pulling Izumi's Verdant Tempest—mud, water, roots—into a slow spiral. Rain hung suspended, caught in the pull. Then gravity slammed them into an eruption.
Everyone hit the sludge together except for Rei. Standing in the mud, blue flames now flaring from his body, sword sheathed.
Silence.
Only breathing. Only rain.
Hajime rose first.
Blood poured from his temple, one eye sealed shut. He wiped it with the back of his hand, leaving a dark smear. Shinji climbed opposite, cleaver cracked, grin crooked. Both men laughed—short, ragged, empty.
Rei jumped to Hajime's side, fists clenched. Izumi rose between them, vines faint along her arms, trembling.
Across the pit, the Forsakers regrouped.
Megumi's light flickered like a dying bulb, healing the group. Hikari pressed a hand to her ear, blood streaking her jaw. Takumi clutched cracked ribs, orange threads pulsing weakly. Iovah stood straight, aura wavering, breath ragged. His palm was a ruin of meat and bone.
Lightning struck close—white, blinding.
Thunder followed like a gut punch. Steam rose from wounds, from mud, from Seiki burning low.
Hajime looked across the crater.
Rain slid down his chin, mixing with blood.
"We don't want to fight you anymore. Let's call it. I'm sorry, guys, but I won't leave my friends to join your cause. We're just trying to reach Solarii."
No one answered.
Only the storm.
Seven warriors breathed in the dark.
No sides. No mercy.
Only the next blow.