Dust floated like slow-moving snowflakes across the ruined battlefield. For a moment, everything was silent—not peaceful, but the kind of silence that comes after something irreversible has happened.
Akira exhaled, a shallow, uneven breath.
He couldn't feel the left side of his body.
The Blue Aura that had surrounded him a moment ago flickered out, collapsing like a dying flame. The air was thick with the scent of burnt stone and scorched metal. A long crack ran through the ground between him and Kaerath, splitting the earth like a scar.
Slowly… painfully… the dust settled.
Akira blinked his right eye—the only one still responding. His vision cleared just enough for him to see the truth.
His left hand was gone.
Not shattered.
Not crushed.
Cut cleanly at the wrist.
Blood dripped onto the broken ground, forming small red circles that evaporated in the leftover heat from their attacks.
And his left eye—
Akira tried to blink it.
Nothing.
A searing, empty ache ran across the socket. Warm blood slid down his cheek, mixing with dust. His head throbbed with a rhythmic sting, each heartbeat echoing the loss.
For a moment, his body simply refused to understand what had happened.
Shock made everything feel distant… dim… unreal.
Kaerath stood several meters away, dusting debris off his shoulder with casual disinterest. His upper-left face—the skeletal side—was untouched. But on his right, the living side, the demon wiped a thin trail of blood from where his left eye had been cut open.
A clean slash marked the wound.
Not deep.
Not fatal.
Just enough to take the demon's left eye.
Kaerath clicked his tongue.
"Hmph. Not bad."
His tone wasn't impressed.
It was irritated—like someone annoyed that a game had been interrupted.
Akira swayed. His vision doubled for a second. His knees almost gave out, but he managed to steady himself on one foot, sword trembling in his only remaining hand.
He wasn't fully conscious of his breathing.
He wasn't fully conscious of anything.
But he stayed standing.
Kaerath tilted his head, examining the damage with a slow smile.
"Impressive. Truly."
He pointed at his missing eye casually.
"Only one other human ever wounded me like this. You're the second."
He stepped closer. Each footstep cracked the ground beneath him.
"But that boy—Rehan—had something you don't."
Akira clenched his jaw, refusing to react.
Kaerath continued, voice turning sharper.
"He had purpose. He had destiny. You… have only delusion."
He pointed at Akira's missing hand.
"Look at yourself. Barely alive. One eye gone. One hand gone. Aura leaking like a dying animal."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"And you still stand there like you matter."
Akira's breath grew heavier. His right eye stung from the dust and blood. The blue flames inside him flickered faintly, barely a spark.
Then Kaerath said it.
The sentence that pierced deeper than any wound.
"Now you will die and join your fake siblings."
The world stopped.
Akira didn't breathe.
Didn't blink.
Didn't move.
He simply froze.
Kaerath saw the change in his expression and laughed—a deep, mocking sound that echoed across the ruined dimension.
"Oh? Did that trigger something?"
He stepped closer.
"That girl… Hyjein… she died believing she was protecting you."
Akira's grip tightened dangerously.
"And that boy—Ethan—your little golden hero…"
Kaerath shrugged.
"They liked each other. But they were too shy to say it. They died before even confessing."
He smirked, leaning forward.
"Isn't that hilarious?"
Akira's breathing stopped for one second.
Then he inhaled slowly—so slowly it felt like drawing the entire world into his lungs.
Kaerath wasn't done.
"You called them your comrades? Your partners? Your family?"
He leaned closer until Akira could smell the burning rot of his aura.
"You were nothing to them. Just a weak human they pitied."
Akira's pulse spiked.
The ground beneath his feet vibrated.
Kaerath noticed the tremor and stepped back, amused.
"Ah… there it is. The anger. The delusion. The pathetic human light."
He pointed at Akira's empty wrist.
"But even with one hand, even with one eye… what will you do?"
The blue spark in Akira's right eye shivered.
It wasn't flickering due to weakness.
It was awakening.
A faint hum resonated around him. The broken sword in his right hand pulsed with energy. Aura from the ground lifted, swirling towards him in small blue currents.
Kaerath's smile faded slightly.
Akira lifted his head.
His voice was low—calm, almost emotionless.
"…Don't," he whispered.
Kaerath raised a brow.
"Don't what?"
Akira's right eye glowed faintly, the blue flame beginning to gather.
"Don't speak about them."
The temperature dropped.
The air thickened.
The blue light grew sharper.
Kaerath sensed the shift and instinctively took a half-step back.
Akira's aura wasn't rising in bursts or explosions.
It was condensing—becoming heavier, denser, sharper.
The surroundings darkened as if all light were being pulled toward him.
Akira lifted his sword higher, even as blood dripped from his arm.
"I lost them," he said quietly.
"I wasn't enough. I know that."
His right eye glowed brighter.
"But they weren't fake."
He pointed the sword at Kaerath.
"And neither am I."
Blue flames wrapped around him, gentle but terrifying.
Kaerath inhaled sharply.
So he HAD struck something deep.
Akira stepped forward, limping slightly but steady.
"I am Akira Tanka," he said softly.
The flames rose around him like a blooming flower of light.
"And this—"
His aura surged.
"—is the cost you will pay for touching my family."
The dimension trembled.
Kaerath's smirk wavered for the first time.
Akira's aura exploded in a silent burst of blue radiance—