"Who are you, boy?" she asked, her voice calm, her posture poised. Unlike the cold, imperious presence of the Raiden Shogun, this woman exuded warmth and nobility—elegant, regal, and unmistakably different.
Allen narrowed his eyes. "You're not the Shogun."
"Correct," she answered with a soft smile. "If you refer to Ei, I am certainly not her. My name is Makoto. Or rather, what remains of her. I am—or was—her twin sister."
Allen felt the truth in her words without needing proof. The grace, the calm authority… this was a different entity. Yet one whose power was no less overwhelming.
"Then I should introduce myself properly," Allen said, bowing with perfect Inazuman etiquette. "I am Niwa Allen. Forgive me if I've intruded."
Makoto's eyes sparkled with gentle recognition. "A Niwa... I see. That explains the sword work."
She raised her hand and summoned a glowing portal beside her—an exit, Allen presumed.
"This space is not meant for you," she said kindly. "It is a sanctuary, a place for my sister's soul to reflect and recover. You may not mean harm, but any disturbance here could unravel Inazuma's spiritual balance. Please… do not stay."
Allen looked at the portal. Then back at her.
"I appreciate the warning," he said quietly. "But I can't leave."
Her expression didn't change, though her eyes grew heavier.
"I feel it," Allen continued. "The truth I need—the key to defeating your sister—is here. I don't know why, but I know it."
Makoto's gaze deepened, no longer simply regal but burdened.
"You carry ambition, pride… and darkness," she said softly. "But no hatred. No hunger for destruction. Still, what lies in you is unstable. And this realm is fragile."
Allen slowly drew his sword.
"I'm sorry, Lady Makoto. But I've made my choice."
Makoto sighed, summoning her own blade—Musou Isshin, identical to her sister's. But her hands trembled as she held it.
"You are sincere… but misguided." She stepped forward reluctantly. "This will be your final warning. You cannot die here—but your mind can be destroyed."
Allen readied his stance. "Then I'll destroy anything in my way. Even the gods."
He charged.
But before he could close the distance—
"Idiot! Don't drop your guard!" Kagome's voice rang out behind him.
A sudden impact knocked him aside.
"Kagome?!" Allen stumbled back, stunned to see her materialize. "What are you doing—?"
SHLICK.
Kagome's head flew clean off her shoulders.
A blink later, Allen's own world spun violently.
He didn't even see Makoto swing. Just the sensation of weightlessness. Cold. The surreal sound of his own head rolling across the floor.
—
Gasp!
Allen shot upright, panting—whole again. Kagome stood beside him, her face pale. Yet below them… lay their headless corpses.
Not an illusion. Not a vision. A truth.
"So you are his shadow…" Makoto looked at Kagome with tired eyes, her voice filled with sorrow. "Both of you are his burden."
"She's even stronger than Beel…" Kagome whispered, still clutching her neck, her voice tight with fear. "Allen… we can't win this. You should take the chance and run."
Allen touched his own throat, still feeling the phantom sting.
"A mental realm where I can't die… but I can be broken." His mind raced. "No. I wasn't wrong. This place is the key."
He raised his sword—and let go of control.
The power surged through him like a tidal wave.
His form shifted. The air thickened. Kagome dissolved as Allen surrendered completely to the Delusion.
The figure that emerged stood shorter, more delicate and ethereal, but without doubt stronger.
Columbina.
Makoto raised her sword once more.
Allen charged.
Swiff.
Her head flew again.
Swiff.
Another corpse collapsed, but a third emerged.
Again and again.
Allen advanced step by step, each death feeding the storm within her. Her form flickered. Wavered. But her will never broke.
Makoto's hands trembled as she struck.
And struck.
And struck.
"Be broken…" Makoto whispered, rising through blood and light, "by infinite deaths."
…
Over the high cliffs of Yashiori Island, Kokomi stood atop her command post, her gaze sweeping across the battlefield. Before her, a vast army stretched across the plains—thousands of soldiers clad in Watatsumi's blues and silvers, all prepared for the war that would define Inazuma's future.
"Your Excellency," a scout approached quickly, bowing. "There's still no sign of Allen. It's as if he vanished completely."
Kokomi let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes for a moment.
"So… we'll be acting without him after all."
She pulled a set of tactical documents from her side pouch—contingency plans in the event that Allen disappeared. They were far from ideal. The truth was: without Allen, the odds worsened significantly.
It wasn't just his strength—though formidable enough to rival generals—that made him so valuable. It was the symbol he had become. The hero of the revolution. His presence alone would've boosted morale, united factions, and drawn hesitant warriors to her cause.
And in case things turned dire, Kokomi had kept him in reserve—for sacrifice. To offer him up at the perfect moment. A figure powerful enough to legitimize a negotiated surrender. A trump card.
But now, that card was gone.
"We've done all we can." Her gaze sharpened as she turned to the opposing field.
Across the battlefield, flags of violet and gold billowed in the wind. There, atop a raised dais at the center of the Shogunate's ranks, sat a throne of lacquered steel and sakura wood.
Upon it sat the Raiden Shogun, impassive and divine.
At her side stood Kujou Sara, dressed in full command armor, and flanking the front lines were the bold silhouettes of Arataki Itto and Kamisato Kagome.
Kokomi's eyes narrowed.
"If only the power disparity weren't so absurd…"
Gorou approached her side, expression tense but resolute. "Your Excellency, what are your orders?"
"We strike now," Kokomi said. "We've waited long enough. The Shogun must be drawn into the battlefield herself. We need to demonstrate our resolve—even to the death. With our numbers and position, we can overwhelm them. Once the Shogun spills blood personally, her divine image will shatter. That's when we offer a deal as the other option will be a long guerrilla warfare."
She turned to Gorou.
"This must be overwhelming. Absolute. We follow my battle formations to the letter, and we cannot allow their elite to break our ranks."
She pointed out each target with surgical precision.
"Kujou Sara. Kagome. Itto. Those three must be neutralized."
"Allen's forces will take care of Kagome and Sara," Kokomi added, eyes lingering on the violet banners. "And Itto… Gorou, that one is yours. He's strong, yes—but he's an idiot. Don't confront him head-on. Stick to the plan, play and guide him. Use his strength against him."
Gorou nodded sharply. "Understood."
But Kokomi's gaze drifted again—this time toward the Kamisato crest fluttering on the edge of the Shogun's formation.
Ayato and Ayaka.
"That's the problem…"
"Once Kagome disappears, the Kamisato forces will falter unleaded. But if those two remain active, they may assume command. We cannot allow that."
She turned to a cloaked figure standing nearby—barely a boy in stature, but radiating quiet power.
"Can you take care of her?" she asked.
The boy smiled faintly. "No problem."
"Perfect." Kokomi's lips curled upward just slightly. "Let's show them that we have more than a hero."
She raised her hand.
"Let it begin."
The deep rumble of war drums echoed across the island. Horns blared. The ground shook with marching feet.
And from both sides of the battlefield—
The war began.