The clash of steel and the roars of battle echoed like thunder across Onirokami's coastlines. The undead mermaids still poured in waves, dragging their sea-soaked, decayed bodies across the sand, shrieking with hollow throats, and slashing with coral-encrusted weapons. Though Onirokami's warriors fought valiantly, the tide seemed endless, an ocean of death surging against their defenses.
Michi's chest heaved with exhaustion, his sword dripping with brine and blood. His arms ached from the relentless swings, yet he refused to falter. Around him, Yotto's scythe carved entire groups down, but even he, the roaring giant, breathed heavier than before.
Then—out of the smoke and blood—came a familiar voice.
"Michi!"
Michi turned, blinking through the haze, as a boy with blazing orange hair strode across the battlefield. His yukata was torn, blood splattered across his chest, but his eyes burned with determination. At his back was a long cloth-wrapped weapon.
"Asahi…" Michi whispered, stunned.
Asahi unwrapped the weapon and revealed a katana unlike any Michi had ever seen. Its sheath was pitch black, edges rimmed with faint crimson lines like veins of magma. The hilt was bound in dark leather, and when Asahi slid the blade free, it gleamed with an obsidian sheen, its edge rippling with restrained fury.
"This is your blade," Asahi said firmly, pressing the hilt into Michi's hand. "Forged from Onirokami steel, tempered under seven nights of storm and flame. I promised you a katana worthy of you, and here it is. A black blade for the one who will carry despair but not be consumed by it."
Michi grasped the weapon, a jolt of power rushing into his veins the moment his fingers closed around the hilt. The weight was perfect, the balance flawless. He drew it fully, its black edge whispering through the air, resonating with his heartbeat.
"…Thank you, Asahi," Michi said, his voice steady though his body trembled. "I'll fight with this until the end."
Asahi smirked, pulling his own katana free. Its silver edge gleamed under the crimson eclipse. "Then let's fight side by side. Onirokami will not fall!"
With a shout, Asahi leapt into the fray, cutting through two mermaids with one blazing strike. Michi followed, his black katana slicing effortlessly through the thick scales and rotten flesh of another. The blade sang with every swing, as if rejoicing to be wielded.
On every front, the Onirokami generals pushed hard.
At the south, Rikuya's katana flashed in a storm of deadly arcs, his precision perfect even as blood ran down his cheek from a wound. Lior fought beside him, frost bursting with every swing of his blade. The shoreline was littered with frozen fragments of shattered corpses, but still, more dragged themselves forward from the sea.
At the north, Disdas drew his bow again and again, his arms trembling from exhaustion. Tekia shouted encouragement to the soldiers, his voice still carrying, even though he, too, panted hard. The arrows struck true, but the horde pressed closer.
At the west, Kael's blade was slick with blood, his earlier seasickness long forgotten in the adrenaline of battle. Tiana's serpents lashed out, devouring undead flesh with horrifying efficiency. Yet her eyes darted nervously to the horizon—there was no end to the tide.
At the central district, Kaori's daggers spun in blurs of silver, carving down enemies that slipped through gaps. Onoe fought fiercely at his side, his spear shattering through skulls and torsos alike. But sweat poured down his brow; even his strength was being tested.
And at the east, Michi and Yotto stood shoulder to shoulder. Yotto's booming laughter had dulled into a grim growl as he swung his scythe, while Michi's new black blade cut like shadow through the chaos.
But no matter how many fell, more came. Their numbers were unending, crawling, biting, slashing, hissing like the sea itself wanted to drown Onirokami. The soldiers began to stumble, fatigue pulling at their limbs. A heaviness grew in the air—the realization that victory was slipping.
Then, above the battlefield, the sky shifted.
On the palace rooftop, Junia and Tieu stood locked in their chanting, their bodies glowing with opposing auras—gold for Junia, silver for Tieu. The eclipse hung overhead, the sun completely swallowed by the moon, plunging the world into darkness rimmed by a blood-red halo.
Junia raised her bow high, the string burning like the sun itself. Tieu's grimoire spread open, pages glowing with the runes of the moon. Their voices rose in unison, echoing like thunder across the battlefield:
"Eclipse Harmony—Sun and Moon in unison!"
The air split open with a deafening crack.
A massive bolt of lightning, searing gold and white, slammed into the northern coast, incinerating an entire swath of undead mermaids. Simultaneously, torrents of silver-blue flames cascaded from the sky like falling stars, striking the southern and eastern shores.
The mermaids shrieked, bodies turning to ash, the ocean itself steaming from the ferocity of the strikes. Hundreds were obliterated in moments, their rotting forms reduced to nothing under the fury of the eclipse-born storm.
The Onirokami soldiers cried out in astonishment, their morale reignited. Generals barked renewed orders, pushing forward with desperate vigor. For a moment, it seemed the tide was turning.
But the victory was incomplete.
Though countless undead lay smoldering, still the waves did not cease. The ocean continued to churn, birthing more corpses that clawed toward the land.
The battle dragged on, tireless and unending, and despair crept back into the hearts of the weary.
Michi slashed another mermaid down, panting, blood streaking his face. The black blade pulsed faintly in his hand, as if feeding on his willpower. His eyes narrowed, refusing to yield, but his arms trembled with fatigue.
Then—suddenly—everything stilled.
Not outside. The war still raged around him. But within his mind, silence fell, heavy and unnatural.
And then, a voice.
"Hello, Michi."
Michi froze, his blade mid-swing, his breath caught in his chest. The voice wasn't one of his comrades. It wasn't Melancholy. It wasn't Umbryel.
It was something else. Smooth, calm, resonant. Like a whisper curling inside his soul.
"At last… we speak."
Michi's eyes widened, his heart hammering as the world blurred around him.
"Who… who are you?" he whispered under his breath, unheard amidst the clash of war.