Location: Tier 3 – Main Lift Access
Present: Lila Butters, Maximillian Arcturus, Allelujah Mason
Status: Tier 3 – Stable Right Now
The air shivered—not wind, not motion. Pressure. Like the prison itself held its breath.
Faint red emergency lights lined the corridor. Flickering. Waiting.
Lila Butters shifted, tapping her staff restlessly.
"Why's it dead silent up here if Tier 4 sounds like hell broke loose?"
Allelujah Mason, leaning by the lift gate, sword slung casually, cracked his neck softly.
"Quiet's worse. Means we're about to get bit."
Maximillian Arcturus adjusted his cuffs meticulously.
"War doesn't announce itself—it warms up backstage. The acoustics here are troubling."
Lila sighed. "The poet and the prophet having bad feelings? Just great."
Footsteps echoed. Three guards appeared, tense but controlled.
"Tier 4's collapsing," one reported urgently. "War Dogs breaking loose. Kai and Rin are still pushing forward."
"You're the holdouts," another added. "If this line breaks, everything above collapses."
Lila's grip tightened nervously. "Define collapsing?"
Max sighed softly. "Means the curtain's rising, and we're up next."
The floor shuddered—a distant impact below. Max looked up briefly.
"Aria's fighting. Pitch spike on her third strike. She always hits that note before bones crack."
Allelujah smirked. "I hate when he's right."
Suddenly, the lift snapped open. Three prisoners emerged—dangerous, unstable auras flaring wildly.
Enemies:
Bran Kessler (Martial-Elemental, fire fists)
Cameron Drahl (Spatial, rift-blade)
Mira Volkova (Psychic, mental bursts)
Bran charged first, fists erupting in flames.
Max didn't move, humming softly.
Snap.
"Backstage: Soul Funk Mode."
Reality twisted. Velvet curtains formed, lights dimmed, a phantom crowd murmured.
Bran stumbled, caught by rhythm.
"Taste her lips, cherry mixed with danger," Max sang quietly, each lyric sending vibrations that fractured Bran's flame fists instantly. Bran crumpled.
Lila swung her staff, confidence rising. A jet of pressurized water knocked Bran unconscious.
Mira screamed, psychic blades slicing towards Max. He raised one hand.
"Fortissimo Wall."
A vibrating barrier shattered Mira's attack. She collapsed, mind overwhelmed.
Cameron rift-slid forward, slicing the air. Max pivoted.
"Echo Bang Drive."
A burst of sound slammed Cameron into a wall, unconscious.
Allelujah chuckled softly. "Warm-up's over."
A sudden chill silenced their victory. The prisoners parted silently, revealing Grace Fallon.
No shoes, jumpsuit torn, scars lining muscular arms. One cybernetic eye glowed coldly.
Max tensed slightly. "She's no opening act."
Grace vanished. "Blink Step."
Reappearing instantly, she palmed Lila's chest—"Spacelock Pulse." Lila froze momentarily. Grace smoothly elbowed Allelujah, disrupting his aura.
She swept her foot, releasing "Horizon Break," sending Lila tumbling away.
Max stomped. "Tremor Drive Pulse." A sonic blast drove Grace back, barely fazing her.
"You fight mathematically," Max noted. "But I rewrite rhythms."
"Echo Shred Spiral," triple sonic blades hurtled forward. Grace calmly folded space—"Fold Veil"—absorbing the sound.
The ground shifted beneath Max—"Reverse Gradient"—disorienting him momentarily.
Lila rose fiercely. "Aqua Bloom Lance!" Water spiraled sharply, raining razor droplets. Allelujah slammed his palm down—"Collapsing Form"—launching Grace skyward.
Grace spun midair—"Inverse Step"—landing effortlessly behind them, smirking.
She drew a shimmering square—"Eulogy Geometry"—the corridor twisted impossibly. Max's sound echoed incorrectly, Allelujah struck empty air, Lila's water spiraled sideways.
Grace kneeled swiftly, tracing a rune—"Mirror Gate Array." Nine shimmering gates opened, projecting multiple Graces attacking simultaneously. Allelujah's ribs cracked under a sudden strike; Max deflected barely.
Lila rallied breathlessly. "She's beatable if we match her rhythm!"
Allelujah smirked painfully. "Then we strike together."
Max nodded sharply. "Symphony of pain—let's compose."
Lila coated Max's boots with water, Allelujah matched his blows to Max's beat. They attacked simultaneously—"Water Pulse Echo, Iron Drive, Backbeat Detonation."
Grace staggered under the combined strike, bleeding slightly.
Smiling darkly, she whispered, "So, this is real pressure."
Grace drew a vicious spatial glyph—"Fracture Bloom." Four dimensional panes twisted reality dangerously. Allelujah's shoulder dislocated violently, Max stumbled tangled by his own sound.
Max adjusted desperately—"Backstage Recalibration." He hummed gently, syncing their movements. The trio launched another coordinated strike—"Symphonic Cross Delay." It shattered Grace's panes, striking her chest directly.
She crashed brutally into the wall, bleeding heavily. Rising slowly, she laughed weakly.
"You fight like soldiers. Good."
She sliced reality open—"Mirror Exit"—a dimensional tear formed behind her.
"We'll meet again. Grow stronger," she said evenly, stepping through and vanishing.
Silence lingered briefly, then the corridor darkened. A cold, oppressive presence descended.
The air grew heavier, the corridor walls groaning as if protesting the arrival of something unnatural. Crimson threads began to seep from the shadows, snaking forward, weaving into a macabre tapestry that distorted reality itself.
Allelujah's hand tightened around his blade, knuckles whitening. His heart drummed a savage rhythm of unease, instincts screaming louder than ever before.
Maximillian took a small step back, voice uncharacteristically low, nearly whispering, "This isn't like before… this aura… it's alive."
Lila trembled slightly, her breath visible in the suddenly frigid air. "What is that…?"
From the darkness, deliberate footsteps echoed. Each step rippled through their bones, a symphony of dread. The shadows seemed to bend inward, forming around the silhouette that slowly emerged into the dim emergency lighting.
Doctor Caligros stepped forward. His presence radiated pure malice—a cold, insidious bloodlust so tangible it slithered through the air, crawling beneath their skin. His white coat hung starkly against the encroaching gloom, splattered with dark crimson stains. One eye gleamed, calculating and surgical; the other burned with savage hunger.
Allelujah murmured, almost inaudible, "Malice…"
Caligros raised a gloved hand, aura threads winding from his fingertips, shaping into gleaming constructs: scalpels, hooks, and needles dripping with spectral venom. "Malice is bloodlust given form," he spoke, voice chillingly calm, "it's not anger or hatred. It's desire—unfiltered, absolute, and relentless."
Suddenly, he lunged forward, aura scalpels slicing the air toward Maximillian. Max barely lifted his microphone stand in time, aura-infused sound vibrating defensively to halt the blades inches from his throat.
Allelujah moved instantly, sweeping low, blade whistling toward Caligros's legs. Threads burst forth, intercepting the strike, binding his sword mid-air. Caligros smiled coldly, flicking his wrist and hurling Allelujah backwards into the wall.
Lila charged, water coiling tightly around her staff. "Jet Vein Crash!" Her strike erupted into a focused torrent aimed straight for Caligros's heart.
He raised a single finger, slicing through the air. Threads expanded, forming a barrier that shattered her attack effortlessly, sending razor-sharp fragments back towards her. Lila staggered, her cheek bleeding from a sudden cut.
Maximillian quickly spun his mic, sending a rhythmic blast of sound that vibrated violently through the corridor. "Echo Fang Drive!" The sonic strikes rippled forward, briefly dispersing the crimson threads.
Caligros laughed—a cold, mirthless sound. "Interesting harmonics." He snapped his fingers sharply, threads spiraling rapidly around Max, constricting him like a serpent.
Max strained against the threads, gasping, aura flickering erratically. Lila and Allelujah regrouped, desperate determination blazing in their eyes.
Suddenly, the threads froze mid-contraction. Everyone paused, bewildered. A ripple distorted the space around them, folding and unfolding rapidly.
Jeremiah Abel appeared in an instant, his fist glowing intensely, blazing with martial and spatial energy. Without hesitation or a word, he drove forward, slamming his fist directly into Caligros's chest. "Khaybar Breaker!"
The impact was cataclysmic. Spatial distortions rippled outward violently, threads dissolving instantly. Caligros staggered backward, coughing blood, eyes wide with disbelief. He collapsed heavily, aura flickering out, malice dissipating like smoke.
Jeremiah stood silently, his breathing steady. Calmly, he glanced at the fallen enemy, then at the Seekers.
Allelujah, shocked yet relieved, spoke first. "Jeremiah Abel… how'd you—?"
Jeremiah interrupted gently, yet firmly, "The fight isn't here. It's deeper."
Max caught his breath, rising slowly, realization dawning. "You're heading for Seizen."
Jeremiah nodded slowly, eyes solemn. "If I don't stop him, this entire prison becomes his playground."
Allelujah steadied himself, determination firming his resolve. "Then we fight with you."
Jeremiah turned quietly, spatial distortions already folding around him. "Hold this line. Keep Tier 3 stable. I'll handle Seizen."
Without another word, Jeremiah stepped into the folded space, disappearing entirely. The Seekers exchanged a glance, shaken yet resolute.
Max exhaled, a nervous smirk forming. "Encore, anyone?"
Allelujah cracked his knuckles, his eyes fierce. "Always."
POV: Seizen Kairo
The silence down here wasn't silence.
It was waiting.
Seizen moved alone now. Vonn had broken off two levels ago to divert the Inner Guard's patrol routes. That left him walking the central descent bridge of Tier 7—the Black Spine, where the floor moaned like an old god trying to breathe.
Ahead of him: the Red Order Seals.
Behind him: bloodstained staircases, echoes of screams that had already been swallowed by the void.
Seizen's Makugan: Reimei pulsed once, then dimmed. Even the Eye grew cold this deep.
"Almost there."
He passed the 7th Circle's final marker—a carved scripture in soul-ink, written in the lost tongue of Molok's Judges.
"Those who wake what sleeps below… owe the world their ending."
He smirked.
"Then let me pay in full."
The chamber was massive. A sunken pit of soulsteel, with nine colossal cages suspended in air by red-threaded chains. Eight were dormant.
One… trembled.
Seizen stepped to the override terminal, aura surging through the keypads like fire in a frozen pipe.
That's when he paused.
He didn't look.
He didn't need to.
He just spoke.
"Took you long enough."
No flash. No teleport scream.
Just a fold in pressure, a ripple of dimension smoothing itself back into place.
Jeremiah Abel stood behind him—quiet, composed, the scent of blood still faint on his collar from Tier 3.
His eyes narrowed at the cages.
"You can't open that."
Seizen didn't turn around.
"You said the same thing about leaving Master Elric."
Jeremiah stepped closer. Not hostile. Not ready. Waiting.
"You're better than this."
"No," Seizen said. "I'm clearer than you."
POV Shift: Jeremiah Abel
His fists were calm, but his fingers twitched.
Not from fear. From calculation.
Seizen wasn't flaring his aura. No threats. No bloodlust.
But the Reimei was watching him.
"Where's Vonn?"
"Doing what you never could," Seizen replied. "Trusting me."
Jeremiah's brow furrowed. "You're trying to wake the Red Order."
"Correction."
"I'm waking two."
"The rest are just… background music."
He finally turned. The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes.
"We don't need more gods, Jeremiah. We need instruments."
Jeremiah tensed.
The Makugan pulsed again. But not with aggression.
With… anticipation.
"I'm not here to fight you," Jeremiah said.
"You should be," Seizen replied.
"Because I'm not here to lose."
Their eyes met.
And in that single breath—
The entire chamber went black.
Tier 7 Spiral Core Hall — beneath the Guan Diego Prison Fortress.
Massive obsidian rings hang in the dark, rotating in silence. Everything hums with suppressed malice.
POV: Seizen Kairo
He stood at the gate, fingertips brushing the aura-sealed sigils.
"Two more," Seizen whispered. "Then we're free."
But the air folded inward.
A shimmer. A shift.
A sound like thunder choking in reverse.
Jeremiah Abel.
He stepped out of warped space, robes fluttering, gaze calm.
"Step away from the lock."
Seizen smiled faintly, Makugan: Reimei opening with pale heat.
"Was hoping you'd catch up."
Jeremiah cracked his neck, sliding into Hakurōtan stance. Feet gliding. Arms loose. Aura rippling like wind over still water.
"Last chance."
"You always say that."
They moved at once.
Jeremiah vanished, reappearing above with a diving heel, wind-forged and pulsing.
Technique: Kazenagi — Sky Talon Drop
Seizen sidestepped, but Jeremiah flickered sideways mid-air—Hakurōtan footwork bent space like reeds.
BOOM!
Floor cracked. Seizen appeared behind him, palm raised.
Technique: Tsukikage Satsu — Moonshadow Execution.
Jeremiah ducked, countering with a burst of compressed gale that spun into an elbow.
Technique: Hakurō Utsusemi — Crane's Empty Echo.
Their strikes collided—flashes of blue flame and silver wind lighting the chamber.
They fell into rhythm. Crane vs. Illusion.
Student vs. student.
Elric's disciples.
Seizen used ghost-step pressure reads. Jeremiah predicted based on wind-field reaction.
Counter for counter. No wasted moves.
Phase III – Makugan Unveiled
Seizen's eye pulsed.
Technique: Sakkaku Rengoku — Illusion Purgatory.
Jeremiah staggered—trapped for half a breath in six mirrored timelines. In one, he was crushed. In another, blinded. In all, he lost.
He grit his teeth, flaring his aura to cut through the loop.
Technique: Tenpō Kaiten — Heavenstep Pulse Break.
He surged forward. Elbow. Palm. Flash kick.
Seizen bled from the mouth, but laughed.
"That's more like it."
Jeremiah drew his hand through the air. Glyphs spun.
"Ryōiiki: Hakurōtan no Tenrin — Sky Talon Heavenly Ring."
The world went white-blue.
Feather sigils spun around them. Wind reversed gravity. Pressure warped.
Every movement became a cut.
Every breath, a threat.
Seizen stepped forward.
"Ryōiiki: Kokushinden — The Black Shrine."
The sky vanished.
Corridors opened. Candles flickered. A shrine of endless choices.
Jeremiah blinked—already walking into a door.
Seizen's voice echoed.
"Each door is a death. Choose your ending."
Jeremiah's wind bent the shrine, cracking illusion.
But one door stayed open.
His own face stared back at him.
Broken. Alone. Forgotten.
Jeremiah slashed the illusion with a crane-wing blade of aura.
He shouted.
"I already chose."
Wind surged. Hakurōtan reasserted its grip. The shrine groaned.
But Seizen was there.
Behind him.
Fist into gut.
Elbow into ribs.
Makugan illusions split into twenty Seizens.
Jeremiah fell back, breathing hard.
"You fight like a god who forgot what mercy feels like."
Seizen paused. Then whispered:
"I remember it. That's why I kill fast."
Final Clash – Ryōiiki Taigen Echo
Jeremiah howled. Wind exploded.
His Ryōiiki Taigen appeared—a spectral crane god diving through a sky of swords.
Seizen answered.
From the shrine's deepest door, a dark figure emerged—his Ryōiiki Taigen: Kokuyō-En no Shinigami.
Scythe. Mask. Death.
The two avatars collided in the center.
Aura shattered.
Flame met wind.
Seiken vs. Crane Talons.
And somewhere in the eye of it all—Elric watched.
They stood about fifteen meters apart—surrounded by shattered pillars, cracked sigil-plates, and faint streaks of blood cooling on stone.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them smiled anymore.
Both were breathing steady—but harder now. Heavier.
This wasn't sparring.
This wasn't a warning.
This was the beginning of something final.
Jeremiah stepped forward.
Wind stirred around him, spiraling along his back like a current preparing to lift him.
"We can end this now. You walk away, the Tier holds. No one else dies."
Seizen slowly rolled his neck, Makugan eye glowing faint blue.
"You're not here to stop me. You're here to prove you still believe in him."
Jeremiah: "I don't need belief. I've got memory. And fists."
Seizen's lips curled—half a smirk, half a scar.
"Then let's see what Elric's memory taught you."
⚠️ Both men activated their Ryōiki.
The floor cracked under Seizen's feet.
The ceiling peeled open above Jeremiah's head.
The entire chamber shifted—two spiritual realms fighting to overwrite the same space.
🔲 Seizen's Ryōiki – Kokushinden (The Black Shrine)
Law: "Every door leads to something you've tried to forget."
The walls transformed into an endless shrine corridor—flickering candles, rotting wood, smoke curling around the floor. Dozens—no, hundreds—of doors lined every wall, stretching into infinity.
Behind each one? A different memory. A different regret.
Each one designed to break the mind, not the body.
Seizen controls which one opens.
His Ryōiki Avatar, Kokuyō-En no Shinigami, rose behind him:
A towering black-robed reaper, with a broken mask and a scythe made of flickering obsidian fire.
It didn't move like a summon.
It moved like a sentence waiting to fall.
⬜ Jeremiah's Ryōiki – Hakurotenkū (Sky-Piercing Crane Palace)
Law: "If you don't understand motion, you don't deserve to move."
The shrine bent upwards—like gravity was trying to escape itself.
Wind howled in from every direction. The ground beneath Jeremiah's feet shifted to floating steps—hovering islands of cracked stone held together by wind pressure alone.
Above him, a massive storm spun around a golden palace in the sky.
His Ryōiki Avatar, Tenshūkaku no Hakurō, circled overhead:
A silver-winged heron spirit, covered in glowing glyphs and prayer wraps. Every wingbeat carved through gravity itself, sending blades of compressed air down like guillotine arcs.
Here, Jeremiah controlled momentum.
No one could teleport without being countered.
No one could escape without earning it.
The chamber—now split by two competing Ryōiki—began to shake.
"Last chance," Jeremiah said, raising his guard. His stance was light, crane-based, but locked with perfect control. "I don't want to kill you."
Seizen stepped forward, arms relaxed, aura spiraling like ink in water. "You won't have to."
The avatars flared behind them.
The reaper took a step forward.
The heron screamed into a dive.