Ayy we back again Bruzzahs and it didn't take weeks of waiting for the update. Which of Mahito's monsters do you like the most?:
Gorehounds?
Corpsebrutes?
Harvesters?
Stalkers?
Seekers?
Curse Marines?
Dil, Doe, Gob, and Blair?
Freed?
~Start~
Inside the domain, the world was swallowed in a suffocating darkness, lit only by a sickly purple glow that pulsed from Mahito's cursed energy like a heartbeat. Everything felt wrong—the air was too thick, like it was crawling across your skin, whispering threats straight into your soul.
Behind Mahito, something monstrous shifted—an enormous writhing mass made entirely of hands, all reaching, twitching, clawing at the void. Interlocked fingers surrounded the interior of the domain like fleshy prison bars, forming a grotesque cocoon that sealed them in.
Mahito's missing arms casually regenerated—flesh bubbling and twisting until they snapped back into shape like nothing ever happened.
Then the sure-hit effect kicked in.
Kiba gasped, and collapsed to his knees. His sword clattered to the ground beside him.
He clutched his chest, eyes wide in pain, jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might shatter.
"What… is this?" he thought, his breath catching in his throat. "It's like… like my soul is being stretched—torn apart. Piece by piece."
Inside him, for the first time, he saw it—his own soul, its edges fraying, cracking like glass under pressure. The only thing keeping it from snapping completely was his Sacred Gear—Sword Birth. It was straining to hold him together, glowing with desperate light, spectral swords forged around his soul, acting like stitches keeping his soul from falling apart.
But it was barely enough.
"This won't hold… not for more than thirty seconds, tops," he realized. His vision blurred, knees trembling.
Mahito watched with sick delight, arms crossed, head tilted like he was admiring a painting. "Awww," he cooed, mockingly. "You look like you're about to pop."
Kiba's grip faltered. It was over.
Then—just as the last thread was about to snap—
[DRAGON SHOT!]
CRACK!
A blast of pure energy ripped through the top of the domain, shattering it like glass. Purple shards flew in all directions like broken mirror pieces.
From the hole came a blur of red and emerald—Issei, Boosted Gear burning bright.
He slammed into the ground between Mahito and Kiba like a meteor.
Kiba barely processed it—just the sight of his best friend standing in front of him, fists clenched, fury burning in his eyes.
The sure-hit broke.
The domain crumbled.
The cursed hands peeled away, collapsing into nothing as Mahito's twisted realm dissolved under the sheer force of Issei's counterattack. The darkness faded. The air cleared.
And they were back in the ruined street, under the open sky.
Issei stood tall, shielding Kiba without a word.
"Awwww~ Why so tense, Mr. Protagonist?" Mahito grinned wide, arms spread mockingly, voice oozing taunt. "You really had to go and cockblock him, huh? Your friend was this close to busting!~" He giggled, then leaned forward with that manic sparkle in his eye. "But it's too late, lil Bitchsei. His soul's already hanging by a thread. Won't be long before it snaps~"
Mahito yapped away. Trying to buy himself some time for his burnt out technique to come back after using his domain.
Issei clenched his teeth, fists tightening as the words hit him like a hammer. He snapped a glance at Kiba—hoping, praying, please say it's not true—but the look Kiba gave him? That quiet nod, that forced calm?
It said everything.
"Shit…" Issei muttered, chest twisting.
Still, he didn't charge. He stayed in front of Kiba, arms up, ready. Protecting. Guarding.
But Kiba? He wasn't even looking at Mahito anymore.
He was somewhere else.
'...So this is it?'
His heart pounded like a war drum in his ears. That burning feeling in his chest—it wasn't just pain. It was realization.
'I'm really gonna die… and I didn't even destroy those damn swords.'
That old rage bubbled up again. That grief. That helplessness. That hatred that had chained him down for so long. But then… something else broke through.
Images. Flashes.
Issei training, getting back up after every loss.
That dumb grin every time he called him "bro."
Sparring matches late into the night.
Koneko throwing a rice ball at him.
Akeno laughing over tea.
Rias smiling as she handed out club assignments.
All of them. Together.
That's what matters.
Not the past. Not the ghosts. Not the revenge.
Them.
The people still here. The people worth dying for.
He grit his teeth, forcing his body upright with every bit of strength he had left. His voice came out ragged, but clear.
"Issei."
Issei blinked, looking back.
"I need you to listen." Kiba's eyes locked with his—steady, intense, alive. "I've been hung up on the past for way too long. I was so obsessed with what I lost… I almost forgot what I have now."
A deep breath.
"You guys. This life. This second chance."
He staggered forward a step, pain twisting his face. "So now… I'm entrusting everything to you. Protect them. Rias, Akeno, Koneko—everyone. Get them the hell out of here."
"Wait—Kiba—" Issei tried to step forward but Kiba stopped him with a sharp look.
"You're stronger than you think, Issei. I've seen it. You're not that hopeless perv anymore. You're the one who never gives up—who always fights for others. So do that now. Be the shield. Be the guy I know you are."
Kiba smirked, blood dripping from his lip.
"I'll buy you time."
And then, sword in hand, soul crumbling, he turned to face Mahito.
"One last stand."
Tears stung Issei's eyes, his throat tight with the kind of pain that didn't just sit in your chest—it crushed it. He didn't want to run. He didn't want to leave Kiba alone with that monster. Every instinct screamed at him to stay, to fight, to do something. He tried to speak, to say something—anything—to convince Kiba to come with him.
But nothing came out.
Nothing felt right. Nothing felt strong enough to break through.
So instead… he thought of helping. If he couldn't drag Kiba away, then maybe—just maybe—he could give him something to even the odds.
And the Boosted Gear answered.
["Dragon Booster—Second Liberation!"]
A surge of power pulsed through his gauntlet. Another emerald gem snapped into existence beside the first, the whole thing glowing hotter, brighter, heavier with potential.
Ddraig's voice echoed in his mind.
["Partner, a new ability of the Boosted Gear has awakened—Transfer. Use it on your ally."]
Issei didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, slapped a hand on Kiba's shoulder, and then.
["TRANSFER!"]
All eight of his built-up boosts roared out of him and into Kiba in one massive pulse of power. It felt like draining every last drop of fire from his soul—but it was worth it.
He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, voice shaking, barely keeping himself from sobbing.
"Hey… I'm coming back, alright?" he said, forcing a grin through the tears. "So don't you dare die before I get here. We'll finish this bastard together, yeah? You and me."
Kiba just smiled—soft, eyes closed, calm like he'd already made peace with everything.
He nodded.
And that was enough.
Issei turned and took off, boots pounding against broken ground, running like hell to get to the others—because now, more than ever, they needed to live.
And Kiba needed his chance to go out like the knight he truly was.
Kiba could feel it.
A weight lifting from his chest, like the chains he'd carried his whole life had finally snapped. That heavy, choking hatred… gone. All that was left now was clarity—and a purpose that burned brighter than ever.
"This is what it feels like… to let go."
He wasn't just a knight out of duty anymore. He wasn't fighting just because of his past or revenge. He was fighting for them—for his people. His friends. His family.
"I'm not just Rias Gremory's knight. I'm their friend. Their brother."
He looked ahead, eyes sharp and calm as steel.
"Mahito! I—Kiba Yuuto—with my strongest, I shall beat your strongest!"
He tightened his grip on the feeling Issei had passed into him. That power. That raw, surging energy, full of hope and desperation. It sang through his body, calling to the core of his being.
And for the first time ever… he heard his Sacred Gear calling back—clear, bright, alive.
"I am the unholy knight."
Power surged from within, wrapping around him in crackling silver light as he rose slowly from the ground. Not flying. Ascending.
Mahito blinked, watching from afar before his mouth twisted into a mocking grin.
"The hell is this? Is this devigga fr powering up in front of me? BAHahaha! IDIOT!"
Mahito bolted forward, sprinting full speed, ready to strike mid-transformation.
But Kiba's voice cut through the air, calm, steady, unshaken.
"I am the blade of my King's might.
Forged through pain and sorrow… my will, ignite."
In a flash of blinding silver, swords materialized from the stump of his missing right arm—not summoned blades, but living steel, fusing and shaping into a massive wing of shimmering, jagged blades. Each sword hummed with life, each one a piece of his soul reborn.
Mahito was almost on him, his technique had just returned from burnout. His hand reaches out to Kiba, eyes glowing with killing intent.
"This wing I bear…
to slay all in my sight."
Faster than Mahito could see, faster than he could even react, Kiba's sword-wing sliced through the air in a wide, arcing slash.
FWOOOSH—CLANGGGG!!!
Mahito was torn through mid-charge, the force of the slash sending him ragdolling across the battlefield, body ripped and torn. The shockwave from the attack didn't stop with him—it kept going, carving through everything in its path. Houses, walls, buildings—an entire city block was sliced clean in half, the horizon now lined with jagged edges of ruined stone and steel.
Kiba hovered in the air, bathed in silver light. Calm. Focused.
Mahito slammed into the ground hard, but before he could bounce again, he jammed his clawed arms into the concrete, dragging a long, tearing trench as he skidded to a brutal stop. His body was mangled, twitching, but already starting to reform with grotesque squelches and stitches as he screamed out.
"The FUCK was that?! HEY! You can't just power up and attack at the same time! That's ILLEGAL, bitch! That's not how the rules work!"
Up above, Kiba didn't even acknowledge him. The silver glow around him pulsed harder, brighter.
"I summon forth this unholy steel,Sharp as the fury, my foes shall kneel."
Dozens of silver swords erupted into the air around him—floating, shimmering, humming like a choir of death. Each one an extension of Kiba's soul. Of his resolve.
Mahito's eyes bulged.
"AWWWW HELL NAH, JIGSAW!"
He spun on his heel and took off like a cursed bat outta hell, sprinting at full speed, flailing as he screamed and started summoning his forces through his link with them.
"ALL UNITS GET YOUR ASSES HERE RIGHT NOW! EVERYONE! I NEED BACKUP BEFORE THIS TWINKY RAZOR ANGEL WANNABE SLICE ME INTO FUCKING RIBBONS!"
"Each cut I make, my determination made real,
With every swing, my power I feel."
And then—BOOM.
The swords launched.
Blades streaked through the air like missiles, moving faster than sound. Mahito tried to juke, duck, and weave, but it was like dodging a rainstorm made of death. The swords hit him from every angle, slamming into his back, his legs, his ribs—impaling him and pinning him into the cracked street like a pincushion.
Mahito wailed as he hit the ground, writhing with silver sticking out of him at all angles.
And then—
They came.
The horde.
A tidal wave of twisted, transfigured monsters poured into the war-torn streets.
Gorehounds screeched and howled as they flooded in from every alley—skin taut, stitched, their maws foaming with cursed bile. Massive Corpsebrutes thundered down the cracked streets, their fused torsos flexing grotesquely. Stalkers lurked low between shadows and broken rubble, their camouflaged skin shifting. In the air, Seekers flooded the skies above, circling like vultures. Their sheer number nearly blotted out the sun, casting dark shadows over everything, their eyes twitching in every direction. And then came the Curse Marines—hulking humanoids standing 8 feet tall, draped in gray, flesh-stitched priest-like robes. They wielded transfigured weapons—part bone, part metal, all nightmare. Moving in disciplined squads, they marched through the streets howling mad with psychotic laughter, following behind the advancing tide of transfigured abominations.
Then came the Cursed Custodians.
All of them were clad in dark, living flesh exo-suits—grotesque armors that covered them from head to toe, each towering at 10 feet tall. Every one of them possessed the power of a high-tier High-class being, and each carried enhanced, deadlier weapons far beyond those given to standard Curse Marines. Leading the formation were The First Four—marching at the forefront—each adorned in their own specialized, uniquely transfigured exo-suits.
Dil marched forward like a relentless soldier, his flesh exo-suit bristling with barbed tendrils that whipped and writhed from his back. In his hands, he carried an enhanced, transfigured bolter, radiating cursed energy and ready to tear through anything in his path.
Doe wore the bulkiest exo-suit of them all, packed with extra-dense muscle fibers that amplified his already monstrous strength. His armor left his mouth exposed, revealing a bloody grin—still smeared with fresh human flesh from a recent meal. In each hand, he effortlessly carried a heavy bolter, as if they weighed nothing.
Gob moved like a silent ghost, clad in the leanest flesh exo-suit of the four—built for speed and stealth. He dragged two transfigured chained blades behind him, their edges scraping softly against the ground. As he advanced, his form began to shimmer and distort… until he vanished completely from sight.
Blair—now reborn as a woman after pleading for transformation and being bathed in her lord's semen—emerged anew. Her flesh exo-suit clung tightly to her muscular body, as she whispered constant prayers beneath her breath to the god she worshipped. Cradled in her arms was a transfigured bile thrower, a grotesque weapon that spewed combustible acidic bile, melting flesh and armor alike. Mounted on her shoulders were twin cursed bomb launchers, designed to ignite the bile in a hellish blaze and leave nothing but scorched ruin in her wake.
All four were each a Peak High-class being on their own right.
And finally came the only CursedPrimarch.
Freed.
He marched behind the cursed custodians like a hulking juggernaut, towering at 14 feet tall, clad in layers of dense, dark purple cursed armor. Every inch of his body was encased—no gaps, no weaknesses—yet the armor moved with terrifying fluidity, offering full protection without sacrificing mobility. Beneath it, a specialized flesh-based exo-suit melded to his form, further enhancing his monstrous strength and already insane regenerative capabilities. Both the outer armor and the exo-suit could rapidly regenerate, making him near-impossible to disable.
In one massive, gauntleted hand, he wielded a newly transfigured greatsword—an enormous, brutal weapon veined with glowing purple lines that pulsed with cursed energy, radiating malice with every step.
This new form made Freed a walking nightmare—an unstoppable, immortal tank capable of killing even low-tier Ultimate-class beings, holding his own against mid-tier Ultimates, and utterly overwhelming armies of anything below that level.
Mahito's laughter returned, loud and mad and giddy.
"HA! YOU'RE FUCKED NOW! THAT'S RIGHT! LOOK AT 'EM ALL! MY BOYS ARE HERE! YOU AIN'T SHIT, YOU SWORD-LOVING DEVIGGER TWINK KNIGHT! THEY'RE ALL COMIN FOR THAT ASS BITCH!"
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~~~
To clarify, Gorehounds are low to high-tier low-class level, Corpsebrutes are mid to high-tier middle-class level, Stalkers are mid-tier high-class level but could kill peak high-class beings if a pack catches them off guard, Seekers are low-tier low-class but they can do peak middle-class damage for a single instance if they dive bomb a target but if they do a kamikaze dive bomb kinda like Mei Mei's bird strike they can do peak high-class damage, and lastly the standard Curse Marine is now low-tier high-class level after their upgrade and equipment upgrade.
Anyways, enjoy the cliffhanger Bruzzahs. It's Glorious4eyedking's fault if you wanna blame anyone. He said cliffhangers are the best on discord so here we are. Join the server if you haven't yet: HrPrTeam