The golden sky of Kogane no tori had completely dissolved into a bruised, pulsing purple. The air was cold—not the cold of winter, but the cold of the Void, a chill that felt like it was freezing the very memories out of your head.
Kojo looked around in horror. The island was no longer a sanctuary; it was a sieve. Portals were popping up everywhere like open wounds in reality. One tore through the Upper District, one cracked open the Middle District, and a massive, swirling vortex dominated the Lower District. The island of gold was being swallowed by the purple night.
The Lower District
Ato and Lemon were sprinting through the narrow, gilded alleys. Every time Ato's boots hit the ground, a puff of gray ash rose up—the stone was literally dying. Suddenly, a portal burst open directly in their path, blocking the street. A horde of shadow monsters, long-limbed and eyeless, began to crawl out.
Ato didn't hesitate. He pulled back his fist, his "Beast" instincts screaming. But as he threw the punch—a strike that should have shattered stone—his hand passed through the shadow's head as if it were smoke.
"What?" Ato yelled, stumbling forward from the lack of resistance. "It went through! My hand went through it!"
Lemon skidded to a stop beside him, his hands already glowing with a dark, swirling aura. "Oh, I forgot! Only I can touch the shadows with my technique!"
"What is this technique?" Ato asked, watching as Lemon took a combat stance.
"My technique's name is Naraku No Kobushi—the Fist of the Abyss," Lemon explained, his face hardening. "But even I have a limit. I can only push them back. I can't damage them. They are made of the same nothingness that powers my family's bloodline."
Suddenly, a heavy, crushing presence drifted through the air. It wasn't the shadows. It was something deeper, coming from the heart of the island.
"Ato," Lemon whispered.
"I know," Ato said, his face becoming uncharacteristically serious. "I'm going to the Middle District. That presence... it's at the castle."
"Ok! I will hold them off!" Lemon roared. "Naraku no Kobushi: Thousand Hands!"
Lemon's arms became a blur, a thousand phantom strikes slamming into the shadow horde, physically shoving the mass of darkness back toward the portal to clear a path for his Captain.
The Throne Room
While the city screamed, Faramis was running through the palace halls. He wasn't heading for the exit; he was heading for the one person who might still have the answers he lost when the book vanished. He burst into the Throne Room, gasping for air.
The room was silent. King Luka sat on his throne, but he wasn't acting like a king. He was slumped over, staring out the massive balcony windows in total horror.
"I'm very sca—" Luka whispered.
"King!" Faramis shouted.
Luka turned, his eyes bloodshot. "Oh... Mr. Faramis. What are you doing here?"
"I was looking for Ato and Lemon," Faramis panted, "but looks like they are not here. I need the truth, King. Before the Void takes it all."
Luka let out a hollow laugh. "Looks like you have many thoughts in your mind, Faramis. I can answer them. My family has guarded the secret of the Sinking for a thousand years."
Faramis stepped closer. "Who was the God of Creation?"
Luka's voice dropped to a whisper. "The God of Creation, huh? His name was Raij—"
CRASH.
The massive golden doors of the throne room were blown off their hinges. A cold wind swept through the hall. A voice, smooth and terrifyingly calm, came from behind Faramis.
"How are you doing, King Luka?"
Faramis froze. "What is that voice?" He turned toward Luka and saw the King trembling so hard his crown fell to the floor.
A figure stepped through the dust. "Last time I came here, there was a different king... but it's okay."
Luka's voice was a whimper. "How do you know my name?"
"Don't you worry about that, King Luka," the figure said, stepping into the light. "Now, I have to kill you so that I can go back quickly."
The Upper District
Kojo was drowning.
Not in water, but in his own blood. He stood in the center of the practice ground, surrounded by the corpses of knights who had been turned to ash. He swung his sword again—a perfect, lethal arc—but it passed through the shadow monster as if it weren't there. The monster counter-attacked, its smoky claw slashing across Kojo's shoulder.
He fell, the iron taste of blood filling his mouth. He forced himself to stand up. "Thirty-three..." he wheezed. "It's my thirty-third time getting knocked down by these things."
He wiped the blood from his eyes. I have to be faster, he thought. If they phase through my blade, I just need to be faster than the light that creates them.
Suddenly, the massive portal in the Lower District flared. A man stepped out who didn't look like a shadow, but he didn't look human either. He had long, dark hair, skin as pale as a ghost, and he carried a massive black scythe that seemed to eat the surrounding light.
Kojo didn't wait. He channeled every ounce of his remaining strength. "Tiger's Wrath!"
He launched himself at the stranger, his blade humming with killing intent. But the man didn't move until the last microsecond. With a casual flick of his wrist, he blocked Kojo's katana with the handle of his scythe. The shockwave rattled Kojo's teeth.
The pale man looked at Kojo with bored, empty eyes. "Huh," he said softly. "Who are you?"