(Kurogane's POV)
Why? Why does he keep getting up?
I stared at the boy, his battered body trembling as he forced himself upright, defying every ounce of logic and reason. Blood trickled down his arms, and his breathing was ragged, yet his eyes burned with that same fierce determination.
Every movement he made only deepened the ache in my chest. My fists clenched as I watched him stagger to his feet again, his defiance more stubborn than his fragile body could handle. What kind of world allowed this? What kind of organization thrust children into the role of Devil Summoners, expecting them to survive battles like this?
A lump formed in my throat, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to yell at him-Stay down! Let it end! But my voice caught, swallowed by the weight of my own frustration.
Please... just collapse. Don't make me cross this line.
I didn't want to kill him. I couldn't let myself. Not because I lacked the capability, but because I refused to lose the last shred of my humanity. The COMP on my arm buzzed faintly, a reminder of the pact that tied me to this life. Since the moment we bind ourselves to these devices, we start to change. Slowly but surely, we become desensitized to death, to violence, to murder.
But there are limits-lines I've refused to cross. I've seen too many Devil Summoners lose themselves, becoming no different from the demons they command. Ruthless. Cold. Uncaring. They kill anyone who opposes them, no matter their age, gender, or circumstances.
I won't be like them.
This boy... he's just a child. He's younger than I was when I first picked up a COMP. And yet, he stares at me as if I'm the final boss of his world, as if beating me will somehow validate his existence.
He shifted his stance, raising his katana again. My gut twisted.
"I won't fall," he declared, his voice hoarse but firm.
I gritted my teeth, my resolve teetering under the weight of his determination. Every fiber of me wanted to end this quickly, to incapacitate him without taking his life. But I knew the danger. If I held back too much, he'd keep coming. If I pushed too hard, I'd lose control.
And if I crossed that line... there'd be no going back.
For a moment, I hesitated, the specter of doubt creeping into my mind. Could I subdue him without breaking him entirely? Could I fight without losing myself in the process?
The boy surged forward, his katana glinting in the dim light. I raise my arm ready to attack.
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(Minoru's POV)
I won't fall.
The words echoed in my head, even as my vision swam with pain and exhaustion. I could barely stand, let alone fight, but I forced myself to press forward. My body screamed for rest, but my spirit refused to yield.
Then, I caught his eyes-those damn eyes.
Why are you looking at me like that?! The anger burned through the fog in my mind. Why do you look at me as if I'm something fragile, something you're afraid to break? I'm your opponent! Don't you dare pity me!
The rage coursed through my veins, fueling what little strength I had left. He was ruining everything-this sacred conversation, this battle where I'd staked my life. He was tainting it with his mercy, and I hated him for it.
I wanted to shout those words at him, to make him understand how much he was insulting me with that gaze. But I couldn't. My body wouldn't let me. The pain was too overwhelming, each breath a struggle. That I won't fall might have been the last words I could muster in this fight if I didn't heal soon.
So, I charged.
Katana in hand, I sprinted toward him, ignoring the stabbing pain in my chest, the blood pounding in my ears. But before I could even swing, Kurogane moved faster than I could track. A sharp impact struck my side, and the world spun.
I crashed into the side of a crumbling building, the force rattling through my entire body. My vision blurred as I slumped to the ground, coughing violently. Blood spilled from my mouth, staining the dirt beneath me.
I could barely make out anything, my sight already hazy since I had forced myself to stand earlier. Now, following his movements was utterly impossible. My limbs trembled, and my body refused to obey my commands.
This isn't the end. Not yet.
My fingers tightened around the hilt of my katana. Somehow, against all odds, it had remained in my grip. I clung to it like a lifeline, a reminder that I wasn't done. Not until I decided I was.
As I struggled to take in my surroundings, the dust from the crash obscuring everything, a faint green glimmer caught my eye. A tiny light, barely visible through the haze, flickered on the ground not far from me.
No... it couldn't be.
I dragged myself toward it, my body screaming in protest with every movement. The rough ground tore at my hands and knees, but I didn't care. I clawed my way forward, inch by agonizing inch, until my fingers brushed against the light.
I gripped the object tightly and brought it closer to my face. Through the blood and dirt smeared on my hand, the unmistakable glow of a Dia Stone radiated faintly.
"Heh..." I let out a weak, breathless laugh. Of course. Now I understand why my luck is my highest stat.
This little gem in my palm-it was my second chance. My ticket to keep fighting. And I wasn't about to waste it.
I crushed the Dia Stone in my hand, its energy surging through me like a fleeting, warm embrace. Instantly, I felt some of my wounds mend-the shallow cuts closing, the bruises fading. But the deeper gashes, the bone-deep aches, and the relentless burn from Kurogame's earlier attacks remained, though dulled slightly. The pain didn't vanish, but it receded just enough for me to stand again.
Unsteady but upright, I scanned the area, my breathing still ragged. Something gnawed at me-a question that burned hotter than my wounds. Why hadn't Kurogame attacked? During the entire time I was crawling like some desperate animal, he could've finished this. And yet, he didn't.
The realization sent a new wave of anger coursing through me.
Why?
Was it because I was young? Because I was a "kid"? Did he think sparing me out of some twisted sense of morality was an act of mercy? I didn't want mercy. I didn't want pity. I wanted to be seen as an equal, to fight without restraint, to be challenged. And yet, he refused to meet me with the same ruthlessness he would've shown anyone else.
No. I don't want this. What I wanted from him wasn't mercy or restraint. I wanted that cold, calculating look in his eyes-the one he'd had before he noticed my appearance. That was the opponent I craved.
"Enough," I muttered, casting aside the anger that threatened to cloud my focus. I raised my hand, summoning the spell I'd relied on so many times before. "Sukukaja."
A familiar rush of agility coursed through me, heightening my senses and sharpening my movements.
Without another thought, I dashed toward Kurogame, the world around me blurring as I pushed my speed to the limit. As I moved, I felt it-a resistance, like an invisible wall standing in my way. It was as if I were slamming against the sound barrier itself, unable to break through.
Not yet. But I will.
I closed the distance in an instant, appearing before Kurogane with my katana poised to strike. I aimed straight for his heart, every ounce of strength and frustration channeled into the thrust.
But instead of piercing his chest, my blade stopped, biting into flesh but not where I had intended.
It pierced his arm.
Blood splattered as my sword drove through flesh, but Kurogane had raised his arm at the last second to block it, using his own body to stop me. My breath hitched as I registered the faint flicker of surprise in his eyes.
He hadn't expected me to come at him like this.
Good.
But my grip tightening on the hilt. He had chosen to take the hit rather than counterattack. The sight of his blood, the sheer weight of his gaze, and his continued restraint only fueled the fire inside me.
"What will it take..." I growled through clenched teeth, "...for you to fight me seriously?"
Kurogane's gaze hardened as I stood there, my katana still lodged in his arm. He didn't flinch, didn't seem to care about the blood seeping from his wound.
"You want to know why I'm not taking you seriously?" he began, his voice low, but steady. "I've killed countless people-men and women. They all deserved it. But you?" He shook his head, eyes narrowing. "I'll never stoop to killing a child."
He shifted his arm, the katana still embedded in it, and continued with an almost casual air, as if it wasn't worth his time to explain. "If you really want me to go all out, I will. But I won't kill you."
He leaned in a little, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper. "Instead, I'll leave you in such a state, you'll beg for death by the time I'm done. That's the kind of mercy I'm willing to give."
I gritted my teeth, barely holding my ground as his words hit like a hammer. My heart was racing, but there was a fury building up inside me-righteous anger, the kind that burned hotter than any flame. But before I could move, I saw it.
His other hand, the one that wasn't pinned by my katana, began to glow with an intense, flickering light. A ball of flame took shape in his palm, crackling with heat. He wasn't holding back anymore.
I barely had time to react. In a split second, I summoned Eiha, the spell of darkness I had come to rely on. A sphere of pure blackness manifested before me, swirling with cold, consuming energy.
The two forces collided.
The moment the flame and darkness met, there was a massive shockwave. The air seemed to bend and warp as the two opposing elements clashed violently. The flame surged against the darkness, hissing and crackling as it fought for dominance.
But the darkness was stronger. It consumed the flame, wrapping around it, snuffing it out. However, the energy was too much for even my spell to absorb completely.
The resulting explosion shook the ground beneath my feet, throwing me back like a ragdoll. My katana-my one weapon-was ripped from my hand, caught in the blast. I watched helplessly as it flew through the air, the blade now lost somewhere in the ruins.
The explosion's force had thrown me hard, but I managed to plant my feet and steady myself, gritting my teeth against the throbbing pain that pulsed through my body. There wasn't time to recover, not when Kurogane was still standing. I forced myself to focus, every muscle coiled, every sense on high alert. I couldn't let him catch me off guard.
Then, I felt it-a presence rushing toward me at a terrifying speed, cutting through the chaos like a predator honing in on its prey. My body tensed instinctively, ready to move, but something felt... wrong. A sudden, uncomfortable sensation washed over me, like a part of me had been torn away. The energy of Sukukaja was gone.
He's used Sukunda.
I clenched my fists, frustration bubbling inside me. Without Sukukaja, avoiding him would be much harder, maybe impossible.
And then he was on me.
Kurogane closed the gap in an instant, his arms raised high, a blade in his hand gleaming ominously in the flickering light. I barely had time to react as the weapon came crashing down, its edge cutting through the air with lethal precision. With a desperate twist, I avoided it by a hair's breadth, the blade whistling past my ear and slamming into the ground with enough force to leave a big jagged crack in the stone beneath us.
As I staggered back, I caught a glimpse of his face. The pity was still there, but it had diminished, replaced by a sharper, colder resolve. It wasn't gone entirely, though, and that made my blood boil.
Better, but not enough.
I swallowed the urge to scream at him, to call him out for holding back, for daring to insult me with his restraint. But I couldn't waste my breath. Not yet. I had a plan-a way to wipe that pity from his eyes for good-but I needed my katana first.
For now, I kept him at bay, dodging and weaving as his relentless strikes came at me. Kurogane's speed was undeniable; each attack came faster than the last, forcing me to stay one step ahead. But as I defended myself, something became clear: he wasn't relying much on his weapon. His strikes were powerful, but they lacked the precision and fluidity of someone trained in martial arts.
It wasn't inexperience, not exactly. It was... a lack of discipline.
Kurogane fought like someone who had learned to survive through raw power and instinct, not through years of honing technique. He was strong, fast, and deadly, but his movements lacked the refinement of a true martial artist. And that, I realized, was something I could use.
I pressed my advantage, channeling everything I'd learned from years of practicing countless martial arts. Each move was calculated, each step measured. I used my smaller frame to my benefit, slipping inside his guard, landing quick strikes where I could, and forcing him to retreat.
But I couldn't afford to slip up. Not even once.
Kurogane's raw power crashed against me like a tidal wave. Though we were evenly matched in strength and resilience, his speed created a dangerous gap between us. Every swing, every motion was quicker than I could comfortably follow. But where he held the edge in physicality, I had something he lacked-magic. The energy coursing through me wasn't just a weapon; it was my lifeline, my equalizer.
As the fight wore on, I felt the strain in every muscle. His strikes came relentlessly, forcing me to respond faster than I thought I could. The katana, still embedded in his grip, glinted with every motion, taunting me with its absence.
Then, he raised his weapon high, his stance unwavering, preparing a brutal slash aimed at my left arm. My mind screamed for a solution.
Bufu.
A sharp chill filled the air as I conjured a wall of ice between us. The barrier erupted into existence, thick and imposing, and Kurogane's blade came crashing down into it. The impact shattered the wall into countless fragments, shards scattering like jagged stars across the battlefield.
The distraction was just enough.
In the chaos of flying ice, I lunged forward, my eyes locking onto his feet. A surge of freezing energy coursed through me as I cast again, trapping his legs in a solid layer of ice. He faltered, the sudden immobilization rooting him to the ground. It wouldn't last long, but it was all the time I needed.
I focused the Magatsuhi swirling in the pit of my stomach, letting it flood my arm like a raging current. My muscles tensed as the energy concentrated in my hand, my focus zeroing in on his weapon-bearing arm.
"Lunge!" I roared, the words pulling the power to life.
I threw everything I had into the strike, aiming directly for his forearm. The impact was deafening, a resounding crack echoing through the space. His arm bent at an unnatural angle, the force of my attack completely breaking it.
The katana slipped from his grip, spinning through the air in a lazy arc.
But Kurogane didn't cry out, didn't even flinch. His expression remained calm, stoic, as if the pain were a distant, irrelevant thing.
The blade glinted above me, and I leapt into its path, snatching it mid-air. The weight of it in my hand felt right, like a missing piece returning to its place. My grip tightened on the hilt, and I turned to face him, determination blazing in my chest.
But just before I could land a blow, a searing heat hit me. A wall of fire erupted between us, the inferno roaring to life like a living, breathing beast. I could feel its heat licking at my skin, its ferocity daring me to back down. But there was no backing down. Not now.
Kurogane stood just beyond the flames. I couldn't see him, but I could feel him-his presence, his disbelief that I'd even consider crossing this inferno.
This wasn't a choice. It was the only path forward.
Move.
I surged into the fire, my katana gripped tightly in my hand. The heat was unbearable, clawing at my skin with a ferocity that made my nerves scream in agony. My flesh burned, the air around me so suffocatingly hot that every breath felt like inhaling molten iron. My vision blurred, the flames blinding me, but I didn't care.
Pain was irrelevant.
I couldn't see, couldn't think beyond the heat and the agony. The world was reduced to searing pain and faint instincts. I didn't even use Bufu to cool myself-every ounce of Magatsuhi I had needed to be reserved for the fight ahead.
I just kept moving.
Time slowed, stretched, each second feeling like an eternity as I pushed through the fire. The flames clawed at my skin, my nerves screaming louder with every agonizing step. It was as though my very soul was burning.
Then, finally, I emerged.
The sudden shock of cooler air hit me like a slap, but I couldn't afford even a second to recover. Through my blurred vision, I could just make out Kurogane, his expression wide-eyed with shock.
"Huh?!"
His disbelief was all I needed.
I raised my blade without hesitation, its edge aimed for his already broken arm. I didn't give him time to react, time to counter. With a single, decisive swing, the katana cleaved through his arm, severing it completely.
The sound of it was visceral-a wet, brutal crack followed by the thud of flesh hitting the ground. Blood sprayed in a sharp arc, the red painting the battlefield in stark contrast to the flames still dancing behind me.
Kurogane staggered, but his face didn't twist in pain.
I surged forward, ready to capitalize on Kurogane's stagger, aiming for his remaining arm. My katana swung in a sharp arc, but before the blade could connect, his remaining hand shot up.
With a flash of raw power, his fist collided with my blade, glowing faintly with the unmistakable charge of Magatsuhi.
The impact was deafening, a sharp, metallic clang that reverberated through the battlefield. An explosive shockwave followed, whipping the air around us into a frenzy and forcing me to brace myself against the force. My arms trembled violently under the strain, the power behind Kurogane's strike so overwhelming that I thought they might shatter.
Pain shot through my wrists and elbows, spreading like wildfire. It felt as though every bone in my arms might give out at any second.
Then, I saw it.
Small cracks spidered along the blade of my katana, faint at first but rapidly spreading like jagged veins of destruction. My heart sank at the sight.
He must have used Lunge, no other strike could carry this much power.
If I pressed forward, my weapon would shatter. And without it, this fight was as good as lost.
Gritting my teeth, I stepped back, retreating just as Kurogane's fist crashed into the ground where I'd been standing moments before. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the sand, lifting it in a blinding cloud.
A haze of dust and debris enveloped us, obscuring everything from view. The battlefield was plunged into a suffocating silence, broken only by the faint echoes of the explosion and my own ragged breathing.
I tightened my grip on the damaged katana, trying to calm the trembling in my arms. I couldn't afford to lose focus now.
As I scanned the swirling dust for any sign of Kurogane, my instincts screamed at me just a moment too late. A fiery glow cut through the haze, growing larger and brighter—a fireball hurtling straight toward me.
I barely managed to raise my hand, summoning Bufu in desperation. A wall of jagged ice erupted in front of me, crackling under the strain of the immense heat.
But it wasn't enough.
The fireball collided with the ice shield, detonating with a deafening roar. The force slammed into my chest like a battering ram, lifting me clean off the ground. The world spun as I flew through the air, sand and fire swirling together in chaotic motion. I gritted my teeth and braced myself, somehow managing to land on my feet.
The impact sent a jolt of pain up my legs, and I stumbled but stayed upright. My vision swam for a moment, and I gasped for air, struggling to steady myself.
But then, the reality of my situation sank in. That was when I noticed it—the searing agony radiating from my right arm.
I glanced down and my forearm was a mess of blistered, charred skin, blackened and raw from the blast. It felt like my nerves were on fire, every movement sending new waves of pain coursing through me.
But worse than the arm was the sight of my katana.
The blade had been snapped clean in two, the fractured edge jagged and useless. I held the broken hilt tightly in my burned hand, staring at it in disbelief. My one weapon, my one edge against Kurogane—gone.
"Just perfect," I muttered under my breath, my voice trembling with frustration.
I tightened my grip on the broken hilt, trying to ignore the searing pain in my arm. He wasn't going to wait for me to recover. I knew that much.
Every part of my body screamed at me to stop, but I didn't have the luxury of giving in. My injuries were stacking up fast, and if I didn't end this soon, I wouldn't be able to fight at all.
I had to think—fast.
Kurogane's speed, his ability to strike and vanish, was making this impossible. If I wanted a chance, I needed to force him to stay in the open. To make him stop using his skills.
Wait.
I had a skill for this.
The Oni's ability—Taunt.
The drawback, though, was terrifying. If I used it, Kurogane wouldn't just come after me—he'd throw everything at me, attacking like a mindless beast, single-minded in his desire to kill.
But I was out of options.
Before I could put the plan into action, a bolt of lightning cracked through the air, heading straight for me. My instincts took over, and I barely managed to raise another Bufu, conjuring a thin wall of ice to intercept the attack. The impact shattered the barrier instantly, and I staggered back, my burned arm screaming in protest.
No more delays. It was time.
Step one: Find him.
I sharpened my senses, searching through the dust and shifting ruins. But in the end, I didn't have to—Kurogane revealed himself, lunging at me from the shadows. His attacks came in a relentless flurry, and I dodged, barely keeping up. Every movement sent fresh pain through my limbs, but I endured. I had to.
I forced some distance between us, my breath ragged. Then, I cast Sukukaja one final time and leaped as far as I could. Not too far—just enough to stay within range for what came next.
I landed, and before I even had time to catch my breath, Kurogane was already charging toward me.
Perfect.
I raised my hand, channeling every drop of Magatsuhi I had left, and spoke the word.
"Taunt."
A wave of energy surged toward him, wrapping around him like unseen chains. His body stiffened for a moment before his entire posture shifted.
And then he roared.
Pure, unfiltered rage took over his eyes. His reason, his tactics—gone. There was only the overwhelming urge to destroy.
I didn't wait.
I conjured a path of ice between us, lining it with thick, jagged walls. Then, I braced myself.
The sound that followed was deafening.
Explosions of ice. Walls shattering.
I'd seen this before—I knew exactly how this would play out. Kurogane wouldn't stop. The effect of Taunt was too strong. He wouldn't try to go around the barriers. He'd tear straight through them.
It was time.
I lifted my broken katana, channeling Mudo through it. The remaining Magatsuhi within me surged into the blade, dark energy crackling along its fractured edge.
Then, I poured everything I had left into one final Lunge.
One by one, the walls crumbled under his assault. Each time he crashed through, I could hear the impact of his own body slamming into the ice. When the last wall finally shattered, he emerged—his body battered, left arm hanging limply, some bones twisted at unnatural angles. His skin was torn, blood trickling down from fresh wounds.
But his eyes—
They still burned with insatiable fury.
The moment Kurogane stepped forward, I moved.
Faster than before. Faster than ever.
My katana struck true—piercing straight through his chest.
The force behind it was beyond anything I had ever unleashed. I could feel it—every bone in Kurogane's body shattering under the impact. His ribs, his spine, and most importantly—his heart.
A spray of blood erupted from his mouth, splattering against my face, soaking my hair.
The rage in his eyes dimmed. The effect of Taunt had finally disappeared.
At the very least, he wouldn't die like a mindless beast.
Just as the darkness at the edges of my vision threatened to consume me, a familiar voice echoed in my mind.
"The 'Maragi' skill has been assimilated."
Burroughs.
For a second, I barely processed the words. But then, I felt it—a surge of Magatsuhi, flowing from Kurogane's broken body into mine. His power—his very essence—was now part of me.
I felt stronger.
But my wounds remained.
And now, with the battle over, the adrenaline that had kept me standing was fading fast. The searing pain, the deep burns, the fractures—I could feel all of it now, no longer dulled by the rush of combat.
I had to move. Find shelter.
If I passed out here, I wasn't waking up.
I took a shaky step forward—
Crack.
The hilt of my katana—already hanging by a thread—finally gave in, snapping apart in my grip.
At the same time, Kurogane's body slumped to the ground with a heavy thud.
And, as if my body had been waiting for permission, so did I.
The world tilted. My vision blurred. And then—
Everything went black.