The battlefield was a twisted masterpiece of destruction and rebirth.
The lake of blood, once a deep crimson expanse reflecting the false moonlight, had darkened into black tar, coagulating into thick, gelatinous masses that slithered toward the massive crater. The intense heat from Izaya's inferno had warped the environment itself—sections of the battlefield glowed molten, releasing slow, sluggish plumes of smoke that coiled into the suffocating air. The ground hissed where stray embers clung to the broken stone, and the very air shimmered with residual energy.
Izaya stood at the center of it all, untouched by the destruction he had wrought.
The tornado of fire had dissipated, leaving behind only the charred remains of his attack's aftermath. Yet despite the obliteration, the domain did not waver.
That was his first sign that something was wrong.
Izaya narrowed his eyes, scanning the destruction. At the base of the crater, where the curse had once stood—so full of life, hunger, and lust—all that remained was a dark, viscous smear, like a shadow burned into the very earth.
Silence.
No movement. No resistance. No lingering presence of cursed energy.
For a moment, just a fraction of a second, doubt flickered in Izaya's mind.
"It took only this much to destroy you?" he muttered, his voice a low, unreadable murmur.
Suspicion laced his tone. This outcome didn't make sense.
The strength she displayed earlier doesn't match this result.
Izaya slowly lifted his gaze to the starry sky, the eerie, manufactured heavens of the incomplete domain. A fully collapsed domain would have shattered by now, vanishing into the void like broken glass. Yet this one remained intact, its oppressive weight pressing down on him.
'The domain is not breaking down either…'
A slow, crawling unease spread through him.
Then—
A sound.
It was faint, wet, unnatural.
A squelching, churning noise, like something sliding against itself, reforming, writhing.
Izaya's eyes snapped downward.
At the base of the crater, the impossible was unfolding.
A massive swirl of violet blood was spinning violently, churning like a sentient storm. The dark smear that had marked her destruction was now pulsing, expanding, breathing. The liquid twisted and folded into itself, its movements too precise, too intentional—like a living thing.
Then, it began to take form.
Izaya's breath slowed. His mind raced.
'Huh?'
It was not just reconstructing itself.
It was regenerating.
The violet blood coiled, solidifying into a humanoid outline. Tendrils of rich crimson muscle wove together in impossible synchronization, knitting themselves over the violet structure, twisting like pulsing vines, layer upon layer.
Next came skin.
A deep, haunting red, smooth and flawless, stretched over the exposed flesh like liquid silk, forming a grotesque yet unnervingly perfect humanoid body. The figure stood there—reborn, untouched by the destruction that had consumed her moments ago.
But it wasn't complete.
Her hand rose to her bald head, her long, delicate fingers gliding across the smooth surface. And then—like a response to her touch—golden hair burst forth from her scalp, cascading down her back in radiant waves, shimmering like molten sunlight.
Izaya felt her cursed energy spike.
It was vast, intoxicating, suffocatingly powerful—and growing.
She tilted her head slightly, lips curling into a mischievous smile, her dark, gleaming eyes locking onto Izaya's with a dangerous, sultry intensity.
Her fingers trailed to her bottom lip, biting it slowly, dragging it into her mouth before letting it slip free, her grin widening.
"Say… did you miss me?"
Izaya exhaled, the remnants of his unease vanishing in an instant.
"Not really."
Then he moved.
A sonic boom erupted as Izaya launched himself forward, his form blurring as he propelled himself across the battlefield. The sheer force of his departure left a second crater in his wake, the broken ground shattering beneath him.
His fist rocketed toward her face—a direct, precise strike aimed to obliterate her before she could regenerate again.
But she reacted instantly.
The curse arched her body back, dodging his strike with inhuman grace, her movements eerily fluid, almost serpentine. As she evaded, she retaliated—her own fist shooting toward him in a counterattack.
Boom!
Their fists collided in mid-air, the impact producing a devastating shockwave that tore through the battlefield, obliterating the ground between them. The air itself cracked, rippling outward in a concussive blast.
Both fighters leapt back, landing on opposite sides of the crater, their gazes locked.
Izaya's mind worked with cold, methodical precision.
'I need to analyze her technique.'
The curse's breathing grew heavier, but not from exhaustion—from exhilaration.
Her eyes burned with a manic frenzy, and suddenly, she ran her hands over her face, fingers trailing down her neck, sliding across her body in a slow, sensual motion.
A soft moan escaped her lips.
Then—
A burst of crimson tendrils erupted from her back, slithering and snapping like living weapons.
"Now THIS is fun!" she screamed, voice trembling with delight.
The tendrils shot forward at blinding speed.
Izaya leapt, twisting mid-air as one of the tendrils whipped past him, crashing into the ground with enough force to shatter rock.
The others pursued him relentlessly, their movements unnatural and precise, adjusting to his every maneuver.
Izaya exhaled sharply.
'I can't activate my cursed technique mid-air.'
He lacked the level of mastery required to manipulate the fine cursed particles in the air, meaning he needed to land—fast.
The tendrils twisted, tracking his every movement.
Then, Izaya executed the impossible.
With pure, explosive strength, he propelled himself straight upward, gaining distance from the tendrils—then instantly redirected himself, launching diagonally toward the ground at an even greater speed.
For a moment, he appeared to be flying.
The tendrils followed, twisting like vipers, but they were a fraction of a second too slow.
Izaya landed with a force that shattered the battlefield, cracks splintering outwards in every direction. Dust and rock flew into the air.
Before the tendrils could strike—
He placed his hand on the ground.
"Chijo no Ha—Earth's Grasp."
A gargantuan stone hand—as tall as a three-story building—erupted from the ground, its colossal fingers slamming down, crushing the tendrils into oblivion.
And then—
Izaya saw it.
The blood receded.
Again.
A pattern. A reaction. A flaw.
A realization struck him like lightning.
His mind pieced together every fragment of data, assembling the final truth.
A slow, cold smirk spread across Izaya's lips.
"I see it now."
He had found the key to her demise.