The Fetid King staggered under the invisible weight of Crunchyroller's rating manipulation. Its monstrous form, once bending reality itself, flickered as if corrupted code was being forcibly patched. Limbs slowed. Probability threads snapped midair. The aura of absolute death wavered.
Above the battlefield, Crunchyroller's hair flowed like a stream of viral clips, fingers dancing over a holographic interface. "There. Much better," she said, her voice casual, almost playful. "Now we can actually have fun."
Hikaru gritted her teeth, feeling the shift. The impossible threat—the aura of death—was no longer an unstoppable tide. A window opened, however brief.
And she seized it.
Her katana flared suddenly, flames bursting along its blade in ethereal patterns. Hinokami Kagura—the sacred dance of fire and fate—awakened within her. Each step she took ignited the ground beneath her with crimson light. Every swing of her blade traced fiery arcs that burned through probability, corruption, and decay.
The Fetid King turned, void-like eyes narrowing at the sudden eruption of heat and light. "…Impossible," it hissed, its faceless visage twisting.
Brush's eyes widened. He could feel the threads of fate bending alongside her dance, the raw energy of a chosen warrior's devotion aligning with the probability streams he commanded.
Beside him, Mia Nikka—Daji—shimmered faintly, tails flicking, golden markings glowing. She could feel the flames resonate with her own awakening, but she remained cautious. This was Hikaru's moment, a surge of power born from love, duty, and unbroken determination.
Hikaru leapt forward, the dance unfolding in a blur of red and gold. Each strike of her blade collided with the Fetid King, cutting through the weakening corruption like a lantern in the void. Sparks of corrupted energy evaporated before they could touch Brush.
"Brush! Stay close!" Hikaru called, sweat and blood mixing with soot. "I've got this… I will protect you!"
Her words weren't just a promise. They were a lifeline, a shield against impossible odds. The Fetid King recoiled under the combined assault: Crunchyroller's nerfing streams, Hinokami Kagura's blazing strikes, and the unwavering will of the party's center—the Chosen One.
Brush clenched his fists, threads of probability shimmering faster, gacha summons ready to spring into action. This was the moment to strike back.
Above the battlefield, Crunchyroller floated with a grin, rating streams still pulsing, ensuring the fight stayed "balanced" enough to be entertaining. And for the first time, the Fetid King sensed that it might not win.