The building is dead silent. Not a single sign of life.
Ren’s breathing is steady, but his pulse thrums in his ears.
Across the room, Akira presses his fingers against the cold floor. His voice is low but absolute:
“Take Form—Raikou.”
A drum materializes before him—its golden surface shimmering faintly in the dim light. He doesn’t hesitate. He simply raises one hand—
And a single raindrop falls.
The moment it hits the drum—
“Zekkai.”
A pulse ripples outward.
The world shifts.
Suddenly—Ren sees everything. The entire facility unfolds before him. Every corridor. Every hidden passage. The entire yout burned into his mind. His breath catches.
This is what a Hoju is capable of?
Then—something shifts.
A hole in the scan.
Right next to them.
Akira’s eyes narrow. His entire body stills. He stares hard at the missing space in the Zekkai’s feedback, eyes scanning, piecing it together.
Something’s wrong.
Ren sees it too.
The whole floor below them is clear. No movement. No life. No reason for anyone to be right there. A slow chill crawls up his spine.
Akira knows before he sees it. His gaze snaps forward.
“DODGE!”
?The wall explodes inward.
Ren’s body moves on instinct, leaping back just as a barrage of eight katanas slices through the air—
The men next to him aren’t as lucky.
Blood paints the walls.
The dust barely settles before a figure steps forward.
Not running. Not rushing.
He simply walks.
A sharp contrast to the chaos he just unleashed.
Long, silk-like hair falls over his shoulders. His shirt—bck as void. His fingers twitch slightly, recalling the bdes he’d just sent flying. His voice is light, amused—like he’s enjoying himself.
“Intruders, huh?”
A smirk pys at his lips.
“He did tell me you’d be coming but……You should’ve knocked.”
Ren freezes.
The way the air shifts. The sheer presence this man radiates.
Even before the name fully registers—
He knows.
The Unbreakable Shield.
Mori.
Ren tightens his fists.
But before he can act—
Something worse happens.
The fallen bodies of the men who were sshed… begin to change.
Some of them erupt into fmes.
Others are suddenly encased in ice.
Ren’s stomach drops.
What the hell…?
The room is no longer just a battlefield.
It’s a death trap.
Half of it burning, half of it frozen solid.
There’s nowhere to run.
Mori tilts his head slightly. He hasn’t even moved yet.
Ren can feel it—the sheer gap in ability between them.
Mori exhales, tapping a finger against one of his floating katanas.
“Still standing? Adorable.”
Akira steps forward, unshaken. His drum hums softly.
He doesn’t flinch.
He doesn’t back down.
The air crackles with the weight of what’s about to happen.
Akira exhales. He turns slightly, voice low, firm.
“Rookie. Get the core. Run. Now.”
Ren stiffens.
Not again.
His entire body locks up.
The same way it did back then.
He can feel the hesitation coil in his gut, the split-second of indecision—
The same hesitation that cost him her.
A sharp voice cuts through the tension—someone calling his name.
It jolts him forward, the world snapping back into focus.
Move. Move, damn it.
He clenches his fists. Every instinct screams at him to do something—to stay, to fight—but he knows.
If he acts now, he dies.
His jaw tightens. His knuckles go white.
He hates it.
But he forces himself to move.
He starts to turn—
“Shinra Banshou.”
Akira sms the drum down.
The room shatters.
A violent shockwave tears through the battlefield, fracturing the very ground beneath them.
The fire and ice distort, ripping apart the death trap Mori created.
A moment of pure chaos.
Ren sees his chance.
He runs.
Behind him, the battlefield erupts.
Fmes surge.
Ice cracks.
The walls colpse inward.
Ren doesn’t dare look back.
Then—
The entire b begins to fall apart.
Explosions.
Shattering walls.
The st thing he hears before he disappears into the wreckage—
Mori’s voice, still calm. Still amused.
“Oh? You’re trying to bury me, Akira? As long as Japan stands, I will stand.”
A low, deep chuckle.
“I wonder which one of us will be left standing.”
?
