| The Cyber Ascension | Arc 7 — "The Bloodlines and Carnage" | Volume 7 | Chapter 68 : "Sanji Youta VS Kanizake"
The air itself trembled.
Ash fell like black snow over the charred remains of the Second Heaven's forests, and the mountains groaned under the weight of flame and smoke. Every crackling ember was drowned out by a more primal sound—the heartbeat of a battle about to erupt.
At the center of the inferno, two figures faced each other.
Kanizake. Calm, collected, eyes burning with purple fire, his daggers gleaming black with red outlines, trembling with deadly intent.
Sanji Youta. The King of Hell. Towering, armored in black and crimson, his massive katana dripping ominous energy, radiating absolute domination.
The world seemed to pause. Even the flames hesitated.
Kanizake gripped his twin daggers tightly, and a twisting purple aura began to coil around them like living serpents. It pulsed with anticipation, warping the very air.
Kanizake
(low, dangerous)
"Kiosaei…"
A single word—but it carried the weight of the Zenōnuke bloodline.
With a blur, Kanizake lunged. The twin daggers became streaks of lethal intent.
Sanji Youta moved like he was dancing through reality, the massive katana intercepting the first dagger in a crescendo of sparks and twisted metal energy. The second dagger slammed against his armor—but it was no ordinary armor; it absorbed, deflected, mocked the assault.
Sanji Youta tilted his massive weapon, his grin spreading across his pale, blood-streaked face.
Sanji Youta
"Pathetic…"
He leapt into the air, dragging a shadow of darkness and blood behind him, aura bending reality with every motion.
Sanji Youta
"Nouraishino…! HAAA! HAAAA! HAAAA! HAAAA!"
A wave of hellish fire and blood-soaked energy erupted outward, incinerating the remains of trees, sending mountainsides collapsing into molten rivers. The very sky screamed as purple lightning danced across the crimson clouds.
Kanizake barely recovered, rolling through the debris, daggers slashing arcs of purple light that cut through air and fire alike.
They collided again.
Blow for blow.
Strike for strike.
Daggers met katana. Sparks ignited the air.
Every swing Sanji Youta made felt effortless, as if the laws of physics and pain were meaningless to him. His laughter, low and cruel, echoed like the death rattle of an entire world.
Kanizake countered, purple energy screaming from his daggers, forcing Sanji Youta to react—but even then, the King of Hell's movements were fluid, unstoppable, like he was sculpting reality around his swings.
The ground beneath them shattered. Mountains cracked. Rivers of fire bent away from the shockwaves.
And yet, they continued.
Toe to toe.
A clash of bloodlines.
A confrontation not just of skill, but of absolute terror.
Kanizake's daggers flared violently, but Sanji Youta didn't sweat. He didn't need to. Every block, every dodge, every counter-strike was measured—not effortful, not panicked—pure domination.
The Second Heaven quaked. The air thickened. Even the remaining generals and Zenōnuke members watching from afar felt the oppressive pressure—fear unlike anything they had ever known.
Kanizake's eyes burned brighter.
Sanji Youta's grin widened.