I land, my body on the brink. I vomit blood—not only from my mouth and nose; my eyes now weep red.
"Don't joke. Do you think you've won just because you're the one collapsing? Where's the entertainment?" he says, a thin smile forming at the end.
He smiles, sharp and cruel.
"Was what I said before wrong? Is this the moment of proof? This is my stage, HUH?!" His grin widens.
Loki walks toward me as I struggle to rise, my body refusing to answer.
"Is it over?" he says, standing before me.
I struggle to rise.
"Right. Get up. Stand—because that's what you're supposed to do," he says.
I refuse to bow before him, yet my body teeters on the brink—burning, trembling uncontrollably, collapsing again and again at his feet.
"Finished. That's it," Loki says, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.
Did what I wanted before end differently? Or does it end the same? I cannot change anything, can I?
The steady streams from my eyes, nose, and mouth dry. My body stops shaking. I rise slowly—without resistance. Loki opens his eyes.
But before they fully open—C-TAS—another strike to his heart staggers him back and forces distance. His expression now—
"This is how it should be. THIS IS THE FIGHT IT WAS MEANT TO BE," he says, brimming with excitement, a wide smile on his face.
My body is healing? This absolute crystal power has fused completely with my soul. So I am invincible now, am I?
"Hah. This feels good," he laughs. "It stirs my hunger and my envy—ha." His grin spreads freely.
"Delightful. Truly delightful. I will crush your skull right now, bastard." He lifts one leg, taking his earlier stance.
I close my eyes, yet my vision opens to something new. I see his soul—
Adrenaline. Inferiority. It is overwhelming to see them fused into a single spirit now.
"Sorrow to inferiority in a fifth breath, huh?" I asks.
"Hm?" He murmur.
I will provoke them until his adrenaline and inferiority spiral out of control—then finish it with a strike that leaves him utterly exposed.
"Oh, yeah? Try it." I take the stance he is about to use next. His face fills with genuine astonishment.
So he no longer falters to the same feints as before.
He charges. I charge. We clash—my eyes read his lines of attack and I evade. There is no opening on his body, yet I strike the very places he guards, breaking through and absorbing half the impact.
His face is all smiles, feeling no pain—adrenaline.
"I feel nothing, boy."
"Is that so?" I strike his head. C-TUST—I twist him into the ground. Even then, the face that holds back laughter feels no pain.
The light in the darkened space grows dimmer. I no longer know how this fight will end. My body, pushed past its limits—my fatigue, everything—heals slowly now.
"Is that all you can do?" he says. He lands. I land.
At this point, a long fight holds nothing special. I will end it the way I choose. I do not expect him to falter—but I will try.
I use the Jiza technique—the one he calls his brother's. I use it now, and—
He freezes.
He freezes and leaves himself open. This is it.