"The Soul-Scorched Catacombs?"
Renji's voice was dry, a raspy sound that barely carried over the crackle of distant lightning. He didn't wait for a response from the interface. He looked at the sky—if you could call it that. It was a ceiling of bruised violet clouds, churning with arcs of static that occasionally slammed into the obsidian spires around him.
"I'm supposed to be at the Hall. This looks like a graveyard."
[I cannot determine the precise location immediately, Host. The dimension is heavily shielded. It appears we are at an access point.]
"Guesswork. Perfect," Renji muttered. He shifted his weight, and the scorched earth groaned under his boot. The vibration didn't stop. It traveled up his legs, a rhythmic, violent thrumming that felt like a pulse.
[WARNING!]
[BEASTS APPROACHING—ALL RANKS DETECTED!]
The silence didn't break; it shattered.
To his left, the rubble of a collapsed monolith shifted. Goblins—not the green, chattering nuisances of the lower gates, but grey-skinned, weeping things with elongated limbs—boiled out of the cracks. Behind them, the air grew heavy. A Stone Golem, its hide a mosaic of razor-edged flint, dragged a massive fist across the ground. A Harpy shrieked from a ledge above, its wings shedding oily black feathers.
Then came the heavy hitters. A Troll Brawler, its skin the color of a bruise, and a Blood-Fiend Assassin that moved like a smear of wet paint.
Finally, a figure emerged from the sulfurous mist. The Bone General. It wore rusted plate armor that seemed fused to its skeletal frame, and it held a polearm that hummed with a disciplined, suffocating pressure.
Renji let out a short, jagged breath. He drew the Shadow-Forged Greatsword. The metal didn't just catch the light; it drank the green aura of the System, the edges hissing as the mana stabilized.
"You know what?" Renji said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration. "Let's just finish this."
He didn't wait for the charge. He became the charge.
In a different pocket of the grey wasteland, the Oni-host stopped. Before him stood a gate made of single slab of star-metal, and before that gate stood a god.
Kaito the Undying. An S-Rank Guardian. His armor was ceremonial, etched with the deeds of a thousand years, and his eyes were steady. He didn't breathe. He simply existed as an obstacle.
"Hmph. Pathetic," the boy said. He looked small, his school uniform tattered and stained with the black blood of the tomb. "An S-Rank. Standing watch over a corpse."
Kaito didn't speak. He didn't need to. His greatsword moved in a vertical arc that bypassed the laws of inertia. It was a strike meant to cleave a mountain. It caught the boy dead center.
The Oni-host didn't dodge. He was cut cleanly in half—from crown to groin. The two pieces of the boy fell into the dust like butchered meat.
Kaito began to sheathe his blade, the movement solemn. Then he stopped.
The blood on the ground didn't soak in. It crawled. The two halves of the boy's body twitched, then slid toward each other with a wet, grinding sound. Bone knit to bone.
Flesh wove itself back together like a closing zipper. The black eyes snapped open.
The boy stood up, his uniform still sliced open, revealing pale, unblemished skin. He began to walk in a slow circle around the Guardian, his hands tucked casually behind his back.
"I honestly didn't think the guardian would be an S-Rank," the boy said airily. "Even so... to me, you're just an ant."
Kaito's grip tightened on his hilt, his frame rigid with a shock he couldn't hide.
"I'm a reasonable person," the boy continued, tilting his head. "So I'm asking gently. Step away."
Kaito's response was another strike—a punishing, horizontal arc.
The boy sighed. He didn't move his body. He raised a single index finger.
The massive blade, forged from the heart of a fallen star and fueled by S-Rank mana, hit the finger and stopped dead. The shockwave of the impact blew the dust back in a hundred-yard radius, but the boy's finger didn't even bend.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," the boy whispered.
He flicked his finger.
The Guardian's greatsword didn't just break; it detonated. Thousands of metallic fragments hissed through the air, embedding themselves in the distant rocks.
Kaito stared at his empty hands, his face a mask of abject horror. "Who... who are you? You are not the Mortal King."
The boy vanished. Kaito didn't even have time to blink before he felt a weight on his shoulder. The boy was crouched there, leaning in close, his breath smelling of ozone.
"No," the Oni whispered into the Guardian's ear. "I am the Demon King."
Before Kaito could flinch, a thread of black light flashed. The Guardian's head slid from his shoulders, hitting the ground with a heavy, metallic thud.
"Fool," the boy scoffed. He jumped down and walked through the undefended gate.
"That was... surprisingly fun."
Renji stood in a field of grey dust. The Stone Golem was a pile of gravel; the Blood-Fiend was a stain on the rocks. He wasn't even breathing hard. The A-Rank jump felt like he'd been living his whole life underwater and had finally surfaced.
Then the panel flickered into existence.
[00:23:00]
"What's the clock for?"
[The hostile being has eliminated the Guardian. He will reach the Hall of Essence when this timer expires. Intercept him.]
Renji didn't waste time swearing. He dropped into a low, kinetic stance, his muscles coiling. He exploded forward, a streak of green lightning across the wasteland.
In the wake of Renji's passage, the air shimmered. Shinjo stepped out of the haze, his suit impeccable, his glasses reflecting the violet arcs of the sky. He leaned down, touching the scorched earth where Renji had stood. He inhaled, the scent of ozone and familiar mana filling his lungs.
"Big brother," Shinjo smiled, a sharp, teasing edge to his voice. "What are you up to now?"
Renji's teeth were gritted so hard his jaw ached. The countdown was at 09:00, but the Hall felt like a horizon that never got closer.
"Faster," he hissed. "I need more."
He thought back to the Bone General's movements—the way the lightning had wrapped around its limbs. He pushed his mana into his boots, forcing the necrotic energy to circulate with the speed of an electric pulse.
[WARNING! The hostile entity has reached the Hall.]
"Five minutes left!" Renji roared. "You said the clock—"
[The countdown was for the outer defenses. He is present. The final Array is under attack.]
Renji didn't respond. He activated Electric Necrotic Speed. His boots erupted in a violent, crackling green flame. He shot forward with such force that the ground behind him gouged into a deep, smoking trench.
Inside the Hall, the Oni-host stood before a shimmering veil of light. Behind the veil lay a body—the Fallen Lord.
"A nuisance," the boy muttered.
He raised his hand. A red sword, etched with runes that seemed to bleed, materialized in his grip. An SS-Rank artifact. He smashed it against the barrier.
The first strike did nothing. The second didn't even leave a mark. He struck again, a rhythmic, tireless assault. Finally, a hairline fracture appeared.
"Shadows of Gehenna, Rend the Veil!" the boy chanted. "Kyōkō no Kage!"
A stream of purple smoke hissed from his palm, coiling like a snake before slamming into the crack. The air in the hall rippled with the pressure.
"Rend it!"
With a sound like a thousand mirrors breaking, the array shattered. The body on the altar began to glow, ethereal flames licking at the air. The boy stepped forward, reaching out.
BOOM.
A burst of protective energy threw him back ten feet. He skidded across the stone, his eyes narrowing. "Direct contact is barred. Fine. I'll bind the soul first."
He began to trace a circle in the air, his fingers leaving trails of black ink.
"Hey! You!"
The voice rang through the hall, thick with fury and the static of high-speed travel. Renji stood at the entrance, his clothes smoking, his eyes locked on the intruder.