After MOHITO brought down the black Tiger with a single cold touch…He remained standing alone atop the cliff, while the air groaned around him.
The DEMON MONKEY stood upon a towering rock formation, his black coat fluttering slowly, his mask gleaming beneath the setting sun.
The DEMON MONKEY, in a deep, calm voice—void of any emotion:
"At last… You are ready, MOHITO."
MOHITO stood firm, gripping MORASAMI with only one hand. His face was expressionless. His eyes burned with a terrifying stillness.
He is in lethal coldness:
"This is the end… or the beginning."
The DEMON MONKEY let out a short laugh, tainted with nostalgia:
"Perhaps… the ending that should have happened years ago."
Then—
💥 An airburst!
Both vanished in an instant.
No sound.
No movement.
Nothing but a violent vortex tearing across the cliffside.
Suddenly—
CLAAAAANG!!
They reappeared midair, two swords blazing with sparks, the shockwave shaking the surrounding mountains.
MOHITO moved straight—clean, lethal.
The DEMON MONKEY was beautiful chaos—twisted, ghostlike, unpredictable.
The DEMON MONKEY appeared behind MOHITO:
"Do you remember this move?"
A lightning-fast strike—But MOHITO barely tilted his head…
The blow missed.
"You used to be faster."
The DEMON MONKEY laughed—mockery mixed with pain:
"And you… used to be darker."
They clashed again—This time, the impact split the ground beneath them.
The DEMON MONKEY attacked wildly, yet the closer he came…something broken surfaced in his eyes.
And MOHITO noticed.
The DEMON MONKEY whispered between strikes:
"BALI… the forest… the blood…Don't you remember?"
A sword slash from below—MOHITO blocks it, sparks flying.
He closes his eyes for a moment.
Two children flash through his mind.Voices.Crying.Betrayal.
He opens his eyes—
now glowing with dull crimson embers.
MOHITO, softly:
"I remember."
He lunges with a power he had not shown in years.
The DEMON MONKEY staggers back several steps—for the first time, losing his balance.
The DEMON MONKEY, stunned:
"This… isn't just MORASAMI's power…"
MOHITO advances—calm, unwavering. Each step is like a war drum.
"This… is my power."
A rapid, razor-sharp exchange erupts—each strike ending before it truly begins.
The DEMON MONKEY slashes horizontally—MOHITO blocks without even turning.
The DEMON MONKEY vanishes behind him—MOHITO lands a precise backward kick to his ribs.
The DEMON MONKEY attacks from above—MOHITO raises MORASAMI at an impossible angle, colliding with him.
The DEMON MONKEY is hurled two meters back.
His breath rises in the cold air—ragged, heavy.
From beneath his black mask, a crimson drop of blood slips free, falling onto the soil like the sky releasing the first drop of a storm.
At that very moment—
They launch again like two shadows fighting over the light.
Rocks collapse around them from sheer speed.
Their blades clash in a dance of death, each strike birthing sparks upon sparks, until the battlefield resembles a volcano of flying embers.
They appear atop the rocks—then vanish, reemerging mid-path, as if the earth itself were carrying their impossible steps.
Then—
They collide at the centre with a force that shakes the mountain, each pressing their blade against the other, veins bulging on their foreheads.
The DEMON MONKEY whispers in a hoarse voice, His words tangled with pain:
"You always… won in battles of strength…"
They recoil simultaneously.
The DEMON MONKEY grips his sword with both hands, muscles trembling, then lowers his stance slightly, his eyes burning with desperate ferocity:
"Why don't we end this forever…Wolf?"
MOHITO does not answer.
He shifts his stance in solemn silence—leaning forward slightly, holding MORASAMI inverted in one hand, the other resting behind his back with lethal stillness.
He looked like a statue carved to sever the thread of life.
Then—
With the first gust of wind—
They launch.
Two lines of black shadow slice through the air.
A red spark explodes between them—
And in a single instant…
They pass through each other.
Movement stops.
The world exhales.
MOHITO stands with his back to the DEMON MONKEY.
MORASAMI hangs loosely in his hand… dripping calm.
The DEMON MONKEY freezes—Then drops to his knees.
A faint cracking sound…
His mask splits in two, revealing a weary, exhausted face—scarred by childhood memories and blood.
A face that once belonged to BALI.
The DEMON MONKEY laughs bitterly—a short laugh soaked in pain:
"It's funny… really…"
Footsteps approach from behind him—calm, steady, like the steps of a death-king arriving to finish a fate long delayed.
Dark whispers return inside MOHITO's mind—from MORASAMI:
"Yes… Yes… let us add his blood to us."
Crimson veins pulse along the blade, glowing… igniting…as if the sword itself thirsts.
MOHITO slowly raises MORASAMI.
BALI closes his eyes.
He does not resist.
As if accepting his sentence.
"…No."
MOHITO voice cuts through—soft, yet absolute:
BALI's eyes snap open in shock.
MOHITO does not look at him.
His gaze is fixed on the sky—as if listening to a soul only he can hear:
"I won't repeat the mistake of the past… BALI."
BALI's body trembles.
At last, MOHITO looks at him.
A calm, shattered gaze, bearing the weight of a lifetime of guilt.
As if he is not speaking to BALI—but judging himself:
"I'm sorry…But I won't do what you want me to."
MORASAMI's voice roars inside him:
"W-What are you doing?! Finish what we started…"
But MOHITO lowers MORASAMI.
The blade that screamed for blood is silenced for the first time.
MOHITO whispers, his voice choking:
"I know… I don't deserve forgiveness."
He looks down at his hands—heavy with blood, far older than today.
"I took everything from you…with these hands."
That day in the forest…a wound that never healed in either of them.
MOHITO freezes in place, his eyes lost in the past, as time drags him back against his will.
His voice emerges low, fragmented—each word carrying years of weight:
"Do you know…?When I was a child… I had no one."
He runs his trembling hand along MORASAMI:
"All I had was MORASAMI—a sword forged from my twin's soul."
BALI's eyelid flutters—as memory stirs.
"But you…You and the others…You were the first to see me as human…not as a weapon."
"GILAN, YASSO OTHMAN, LAYLA… and LUCY."
BALI's eyes gleam at the last name.
"You remember everyone's names?"BALI asks, shock plain in his gaze.
MOHITO smiles faintly—broken:
"Of course I remember."
"I remember the nights we used to escape the guards…We'd sit in the old ventilation room…and stare at the stars."
"I remember how we used to fight among ourselves…We invented names…chose parents from imagination…"
He exhales, something breaking inside him:
"But deep down, I always knew it wouldn't last…that I'd end up alone in that cold laboratory."
He lifts his eyes to BALI—not as a fighter…not as a master…But as a brother who lost his other half:
"You were truly my family."
BALI's features falter,a small tremor shaking his shoulders.
"But we weren't alone…There was an eye hiding in the dark—watching us."
"Then the order came…the order that shattered my world."
"The choice was cruel: Either I bring down my comrades…Or watch them fall one by one."
His hands tremble.
"I froze…all I could hear were the devil's whispers."
"I chose the easy path…and let the voices decide."
"I let MORASAMI choose my fate."
His voice cracks:
"That day…I lost my entire family at once."
He steps closer, sets MORASAMI on the ground:
"BALI…"
He says the name slowly—as if reviving it:
"You were my brother too…and I was never ready to admit it."
BALI tries to speak—But no sound comes.
MOHITO continues:
"I didn't betray you because I didn't love you…but because they taught me to kill before being killed."
"I was just a child…holding a sword bigger than himself."
Silence.
"And this regret will follow me until my end—the regret of not facing my darkness…and failing to protect my family."
MOHITO's gaze lowers to BALI—not as a victor, but as one who finally understands.
"You know…I always knew."
BALI lifts his head slowly, eyes trembling:
"Knew… what?"
MOHITO steps closer, light washing over his exhausted face:
"That you never wanted to kill me."
BALI freezes—years of weight falling away.
MOHITO continues, voice quiet—reading his soul:
"From the first strike…I saw your hesitation."
MOHITO smiles sadly:
"You wanted one thing…to be killed."
BALI whispers:
"Stop…"
But MOHITO shakes his head:
"You wanted death…but not by just any hand."
"You wanted to die…by my hand."
BALI looks down.
Everything—his strength, pride—shatters.
MOHAITO, with a gentle voice:
"Why…?"
BALI raises his eyes, lips trembling:
"Because…no matter what…I couldn't hate you."
"You were…My last brother."
MOHITO smiles—not victorious, not triumphant—But as a man who found a painful truth:
"And you…Was my brother, too."
Silence reigns.
Only BALI's trembling breaths remain.
MOHITO steps forward.
Then, He extends his hand.
Not a warrior's hand.
Not the cold hand BALI had chased in despair.
It was a brother's hand.
BALI stares at it—heart pounding.
Slowly…He lifts his trembling hand and places it in MOHITO's.
Skin meets skin—a simple sound, yet it shatters years of darkness.
MOHITO tightens his grip, pulls BALI up.
BALI rises—not as an enemy…But as a survivor.
A heavy moment of silence hangs between them, brimming with all that was left unsaid:
Each looks into the other's eyes and sees the shadow they cast, and the light they were waiting for.
They take just one step forward, yet it is enough to cross the chasm they thought impassable.
Then... the wall falls.
They embrace each other. Smiling like the children they once were.
The wind howls, BALI's coat billowing like dark wings, MOHITO's hair swaying like flames calmed by truth.
BALI speaks softly:
"Welcome back…"
MOHITO exhales…and smiles—small, broken, honest:
"I'm back."
High atop the cliff—MORASAMI pulses with angry crimson veins, as if realising a new era has begun—
And that blood will no longer be MOHITO's path.