Kagenami crawled through the shadows of destruction. His body was covered in wounds, his breathing ragged, and his clothes—what little remained—hung in tatters. But what hurt the most wasn't the flesh… it was what he had seen.
His eyes, once sharp as blades, now trembled with a mixture of despair and emptiness. He had tried to face Enma. He had made that mistake.
Kagenami staggered forward, his body still struggling to hold itself upright, yet his mind was trapped in another moment… one he could barely bear to remember.
It was then that the invisible weight returned to his shoulders for an instant, as if his soul were reliving that torture—
the instant he faced the Omnipresent.
"What the hell is this…?" he muttered in the memory.
Behind him, like a crack in reality itself, opened colossal, ancient, innumerable eyes, floating in a formless abyss. Each one stared at him with an intensity that unraveled reason. And from those eyes began to rain knowledge, images, possibilities…
Past. Present. Future.
His dead parents.
His own birth.
The end of the world.
The beginning of the first sin.
The exact moment his soul would shatter.
"This is the weight of truth, Kagenami," Enma said with serene calm, her steps barely making a sound on the fractured ground. "A truth mortal men should never touch."
He fell to his knees. His body writhed as though every bone were being torn from the inside. He coughed up black blood. He tried to stand, but each thought only led him to another revelation—each one more painful than the last.
"Everything is connected."
"Your suffering doesn't matter."
"Your justice is nothing but ego in disguise."
Reality warped around him. He began to scream, but no sound came. The awareness of something greater, incomprehensible, and eternal was destroying him.
It was then that his Hizumi—his spiritual deformity—awoke.
The shadows consumed him.
They wrapped him like a shroud of death, weaving a living armor over his skin—dark, dense, as though forged from the sins of the world. A red symbol blazed upon his chest. His face no longer looked human.
With a howl that tore through the mist, Kagenami shattered a fragment of Enma's Shinkon, as if tearing a page from a forbidden book.
He did it…
But the price was steep.
He had broken the truth, but also a piece of his own soul. His body was now nothing but a resilient shell. His mind… would never be the same.
---
Kagenami gritted his teeth, his breathing sharp, his gaze tinted with a rage that bordered on despair.
"Damn you, Enma…" he rasped, still trembling from what he had endured only hours before.
But Enma did not answer with fury or mockery. She merely tilted her head with the same calm the Fates use when laughing at men.
Her eyes, strangely serene, swept over each of those present.
"So… what will you do?" she asked in a dry tone, as if throwing a rope into an abyss. "Change the future… or keep rotting it further?"
No one answered.
Only confused stares. No one trusted her words. No one wanted to admit that perhaps everything they had done until now had been meaningless.
"You will all die here," Enma added, without drama. "This coliseum, these bodies, your names… all will be swallowed by an inevitable fate.
Don't you at least want to see how the end looks… before it comes?"
Silence.
The tension was like a cord about to snap.
Narikami clicked his tongue, glaring at Yodaku.
"Do you see? Your crimes opened this hell…"
Yodaku laughed in the same careless tone as always.
"And you didn't, general? You kept it standing…"
They shoved each other, measuring, challenging without needing weapons.
Meanwhile, Reiji panted quietly. His wounds still oozed, but he remained on his feet with the help of Donyoku and Chisiki.
"Master…" Donyoku murmured, seeing the blood at Reiji's lips.
"I'm fine… I can still see. I can still think."
Kagenami, ignoring them all, stepped toward Enma.
"You're nothing but a fraud!" he roared, raising his arm to strike.
But as he tried, a dark mist halted him. It was no illusion. It was the density of knowledge—the weight of the truths Enma reflected from the souls of those present.
The Omnipresent did not blink.
"You are trapped in something greater than yourselves. This is no illusion. No magic. This is what you are. And if you do nothing…
you will die by the truth."
In the stands, the bodies were no longer bodies but shadows, repeating words that had not yet been spoken. The announcer, with a cup of wine, laughed as though watching the final act of a world in ruins.
Donyoku, trembling, asked in a firm voice:
"Why… why did you trap us here?"
Enma looked at him as one might a lost child.
"Because you are the problem. Because you… are the plague that has bled this world dry.
And only by facing that… will you know if you deserve to keep existing."
---
The air grew heavier, as though the very atmosphere had turned to lead.
Enma, seated with impossible elegance upon a throne woven from countless gazes, spoke in a voice soft yet slicing like a blade:
"One last trial to shatter this reflection of death:
One of you must die here…
Only then will the truth cease devouring you."
No one answered at once.
Donyoku and Chisiki locked eyes in silence. The first swallowed hard; the second lowered his gaze, as though weighing every possible escape. Both knew the same thing: this was no mere illusion. It was a prison of possibility… one that fed on the fear of change.
Then, without warning, Narikami drew his blade. Lightning coiled around him like a starving serpent, his gaze fixed on Yodaku's throat.
"You and I… should not exist in the same world," he said, without a trace of emotion.
Yodaku clicked his tongue and unsheathed his dark blade with contempt.
"Finally. I was starting to get bored. Let's see if your justice outweighs my cruelty."
A shadowed specter emerged behind Yodaku—tall, hooded, with scythes for hands. His Shinkon:
[Shokeisha – The Executioner]
It had fully awakened.
The battle began.
A storm of lightning clashed against the Executioner's precise, merciless strikes. The thunder echoed through the empty tiers of the illusory coliseum. Narikami moved with impossible speed, yet Yodaku was no less relentless—every missed strike brushed the air with surgical accuracy, and when it found flesh, it cut to the soul.
"You can't beat me, Narikami!" Yodaku roared, blood on his lips. "You fight for order, I fight for desire! That makes me stronger!"
Narikami gave no reply. He simply snapped his fingers and a chain of lightning fell from the false heavens. The Executioner intercepted it, but cracks began to spread across his form. Even so, Yodaku pressed forward, his sword gleaming like a death sentence.
---
From afar, Chisiki watched the clash with fevered intensity.
"This doesn't make sense," he murmured. "If this is truth, why does time itself tremble?"
He looked down at his hands—and saw the edges of his body beginning to fade, reintegrating into the air. Then he understood.
"It's not a trial of death… it's a trial of will."
He turned to Donyoku, who was still tending to Reiji.
"Donyoku! Listen! This world is built on certainty! If we truly desire to change fate… the truth will rewrite itself, and we'll return to reality!"
Donyoku's eyes widened in sudden comprehension.
"And what about Narikami and Yodaku?"
Chisiki gritted his teeth.
"They're trapped… but if one of them dies for a conviction that's real, then maybe… they'll be freed too."
---
At that moment, Yodaku landed a strike across Narikami's back, leaving a black line not of blood, but of a soul split in two.
Narikami seized him by the throat, shouting into his face:
"If the world must burn to be reborn then I'll be the lightning that sets it ablaze!!"
And with that, he hurled Yodaku away in a discharge that roared like a thousand dragons.
The duel raged on. Yet something in the air began to crack.
The "truth" was trembling.
Fate… could change.
---
The collision of the two titans kept tearing at the firmament of that "truth."
Thunder coiled like celestial serpents around Yodaku, who, panting, moved with equal mastery and malice. The Executioner was no mere phantom—it moved in perfect unison with him, as though both shared the same consciousness of death. Every slash was a sentence; every step, an execution.
Narikami, wounded yet unbroken, yielded only inches. A thin stream of blood traced his face, but his gaze stood firm, like a mountain weathering a storm. Lightning poured from his hands, divine hammers striking from the false sky—but even that could not halt the executioner of chaos.
Meanwhile, Reiji could no longer speak. His body trembled; his soul teetered on the edge of shattering. His wide, unblinking eyes were the only sign he still fought to endure. Donyoku worked to bind his wounds, though he knew there were no bandages for a torn soul.
Chisiki stared in silence. He had found the way to break this "truth," yet a sinister echo pounded against his reason.
"It's not enough to understand it… they all have to want to leave. Every single one. If even one doesn't… we're stuck."
His eyes went to the duel—and he realized: they didn't want to leave. They were too consumed by hatred, by the clash, their lust for destruction feeding the prison itself.
Chisiki stepped forward then stopped. The battle was beautiful, devastating. It was like watching two living myths collide, the weight of worlds behind every blow.
Donyoku noticed his hesitation, clenched his jaw, and turned. With his uninjured hand, he drove a fist into Kagenami's face, snapping him from his internal chaos.
"Wake up! Do you want to die here wrapped in a lie?!"
Kagenami's body hit the ground, rolled. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the world began to tremble.
The illusory sky flickered as though with static. The marble walls of the coliseum blurred, revealing ruins beneath.
What had been a partial truth… was becoming real.
High above, Enma watched without blinking, eating a cluster of black grapes. Beside her, the announcer laughed softly, as though this were all part of a script already written.
"They're close," Enma said, her ageless voice serene. "Soon they'll stop pretending to be the saviors."
Feeling the trembling of the plane itself, Chisiki sat in the center of the arena. Placing both hands to the ground, his Shinkon shuddered. He tried to distort the "truth"… but it was like trying to bend a mountain barehanded.
"I can't…" he growled through his teeth. "Not yet!"
And in that moment—
Kagenami rose.
Blood and sweat covered his face; his breathing was that of a caged beast. His voice was almost a whisper, but it cut through the air:
"…that damned witch is going to lock us here forever."
He lifted his gaze—and for the first time since his arrival, his soul burned not with desperation, but with conviction.
"Then… I'll break it myself!"
---
Kagenami advanced.
His steps were steady, deliberate. No rush, no fury only a cold determination etched into a face that no longer knew relief.
His mind shattered.
His body broken.
His soul bearing invisible scars.
Yet still… he walked toward Enma.
"I have no faith, no homeland, no face," he whispered to himself. "But if this is truth… I'll tear it out at the root."
From above, Chisiki trembled, watching as though he were witnessing a painting tearing itself apart. His Shinkon faltered not from weakness, but from doubt.
"What if there's no way out…? What if this isn't a prison… but the inevitable future?"
Donyoku gripped his shoulders. His body was battered, but his voice was steady.
"Chisiki… you saw the crack. And if there's a crack, there's a way to break it. Don't tell me the thinker among us is giving up now."
Chisiki closed his eyes. His soul was shaking, but those words anchored him. He took a deep breath. They were still alive. They could still act.
The metallic rhythm of the duel still tore through the air.
Narikami and Yodaku were chaos in motion.
Their bodies bore deep wounds; their blood painted the arena in symbols of war.
Lightning ripped the false sky, as though the storm itself had been trapped within the coliseum. The Executioner mirrored Yodaku's movements, every cut a flawless echo of his own.
A direct thrust into Narikami's side.
A bolt through Yodaku's thigh.
Blow for blow. Cry for cry. A sacred dance of death.
And through it all, Enma did nothing only watched, sipping thick wine, eyes half-lidded. The scene seemed to please her… yet bore the weight of her boredom.
"Fate is already sealed," she said quietly, caressing the rim of her glass. "Some are born to fall, others to watch the world fall. And some… are born simply to suffer until the end."
Kagenami walked on. The ground quaked, the air thickened but he did not stop. He had left behind his fears, his promises, his doubts.
And then for a single second everyone present felt a deep, unshakable shiver. Not in their bodies… but in their souls.
As though the "truth" itself screamed in silence that the end was near.
---
Everything was about to break.
The air trembled. The "truth" began to collapse in on itself.
The heartbeat of the world was chaotic, uneven, sick.
And then…
"Tell me something, Omnipresent…" the Presenter said with a twisted smile. "Why do you think I admire you so much?"
Enma didn't reply. She simply raised an eyebrow, a gesture blending disdain with amusement.
"Because you and I aren't so different," he went on. "You embody absolute knowledge… and I, the voice that turns truth into destiny. People fear you… and silence me. But both of us are inevitable."
He rose slowly. His ceremonial robe shimmered with a pattern of impossible symbols, carved like curses into sacred cloth. His eyes were no longer those of a jester… but of a doomed prophet.
"Even if you believe all the truths you've seen will come to pass… you're wrong. Because I… can rewrite them."
He lifted his hand.
And then he activated his Shinkon:
「Kuchihateru Kami no Koe — The Voice of the Rotting God」
His voice changed.
It was no longer human.
It was a rending, ancient, almost cosmic echo. It didn't come only from his mouth, but from every corner of the air itself.
"Enough."
That word…
It wasn't a command.
It was a sentence.
Time and space shuddered and stopped.
Narikami's lightning froze midway through the sky.
Yodaku's sword halted just millimeters from his rival's body.
Chisiki couldn't think his mind had become a cracked crystal.
Donyoku trembled, as if his soul were bound in invisible chains.
Kagenami couldn't take another step.
His muscles collapsed, as if crushed by the weight of the universe.
Even Enma…
closed her eyes. Not out of fear but out of respect.
The Presenter descended slowly, as though the very air carried him.
"Kuchihateru Kami no Koe… isn't just a voice.
It's the whisper of a god who was once glorious…
and who now… only wants everyone to hear his agony."
---
Silence.
Not an ordinary silence.
Absolute. Sharp. As though the universe itself had held its breath.
Everyone remained frozen.
Bodies still. Souls trapped in the echo of the cursed Shinkon.
And then, the Presenter… spoke.
With graceful steps, he descended the stands into the arena.
His robes swayed like the tongues of a sacred fire.
His gaze, no longer mocking… but filled with dignity.
"Well, well… it's about time I introduced myself, don't you think?"
He gave a small bow elegant, theatrical, steeped in history.
"My name is Yugameru Koe…
The Twisted Voice…
The one who tried to speak when the world forced me to be silent.
The one who saw it all from behind the curtain…
Who turned his silence into a performance…
And his scream into a curse."
Enma looked at him not with indifference or mockery for the first time,
but with respect.
"Now I understand why you're the Presenter," Enma murmured with a faint smile.
"Not to entertain…
but so everyone could hear what you were always denied."
Yugameru nodded.
"Exactly."
He raised a hand.
And of everyone present, only one could move.
Donyoku.
The boy gasped, trembling.
He didn't understand why him? Why not Reiji, or Narikami, or even Chisiki?
"Me…?" he whispered, afraid.
Yugameru met his gaze with grave seriousness.
"Yes. You.
Because you're the only one with a soul young enough not to be broken…
and marked enough to understand pain."
Donyoku stepped back.
"But… I'm nobody special."
"Exactly," Yugameru said, circling him.
"The special don't change the world. They only decorate it.
It's the broken… the desperate… the ones who suffer without heroic reasons…
They rebuild it."
Donyoku fell to his knees. His body hurt, but his soul even more.
"What… am I supposed to do?"
Yugameru extended his hand toward the distorted horizon.
"Break this 'truth'.
Not with your strength… but with your will.
Show that you don't want to just survive… but to live."
---
Yugameru watched him as though witnessing the birth of a new star.
"Come on, Donyoku… Show me if your soul is willing to give everything…
to change what everyone else has already accepted as inevitable."
Donyoku didn't answer.
He only trembled.
Not from fear… but from something deeper:
a mixture of the weight of expectations, long-accumulated pain… and a contained fury he had never fully understood.
Then, something inside him resonated.
An echo within.
A deep vibration beyond flesh or bone.
A heartbeat not of the heart but of the soul itself.
His Shinkon…
Began to change.
The pressure in the air shifted.
His body started to burn from within but not from pain… from pure fire.
An invisible flame.
A desire.
A refusal to accept reality as it was written.
"Ugh…!" Donyoku dropped to one knee, gasping. "What… is happening to me?"
Yugameru smiled.
"Don't be afraid.
You're just awakening to what you always were.
I… only gave you a push."
He had used a fragment of his Shinkon to unlock the next latent level within Donyoku.
Not a forced evolution… but an inevitable awakening.
A new aura surged from Donyoku.
Black, but not dark.
Bright, but not divine.
A mixture of chaos, will, and twisted hope.
His Shinkon roared to be released.
And then… something began to unravel.
The "truth" around them all that illusory and spiritual prison began to crack.
Enma frowned.
"What kind of soul is this…?
A mere boy… altering my reflection…?"
The false sky quivered.
The ground began to shake.
Ethereal cracks ran through the air.
Yodaku and Narikami, still paralyzed by Yugameru's technique, didn't understand what was happening.
But Chisiki did.
He saw it.
That spark.
That break.
"It's him," Chisiki murmured with a weary smile.
"The will that can break the curse."
---
The veil of truth shattered.
And with it, the illusory prison Enma had created finally collapsed.
The sky was real again.
The air heavy, but free.
The echoes of battle now seemed distant.
Enma, the Omnipresent, no longer floated as an untouchable entity.
She stood…
With a human expression for the first time.
Her eyes swept over the ruined coliseum, the broken souls, the open wounds…
and she nodded.
"You've done it,"
she murmured in a grave yet serene voice.
"You've shown me that even in a mire… flowers can still bloom."
Narikami and Yodaku, however, were still locked in their meaningless fight blows, lightning, cuts, growls.
The inner war of those who had forgotten why they fought.
Kagenami, exhaling shadows as if his soul were fracturing, stepped between them.
"Enough…!
This is no longer a duel…
It's stubbornness."
He held them back with his last reserves, a weary but resolute sentinel.
In the stands, the nobles, merchants, and cowards who had once screamed for blood… slowly returned to themselves.
Many clutched their chests.
"Weren't we… dead?"
"Was it a dream?"
"Or a warning?"
Their eyes were wider than ever.
The trauma of "almost dying" in such a real illusion had left its mark.
They no longer laughed.
They no longer applauded.
They only… whispered.
---
In the heart of that transformed hell, Donyoku cradled Reiji, still unconscious.
"Chisiki," he said, his voice trembling but urgent. "Take him with you.
Find Aika. Make her save him…
Bring him back."
Chisiki nodded without a word.
"Trust me."
He warped the space, and in the blink of an eye disappeared carrying his mentor through flickering light.
---
Suddenly…
the sky trembled.
Hooves.
Wings.
The roars of Kuzuryū.
From the horizon…
the Kingdom's elite cavalry descended like a storm.
The war was not over.
It had only changed shape.
---
The night had died.
But calm… had not yet been born.
The sun filtered through the towers of Kinzoku no Hana,
illuminating a battlefield that looked like a reflection of hell.
The streets, still steeped in fear and confusion, shook under the rumble of hooves, armor, and wings.
A flawless formation the Elite Cavalry of the Kingdom of Hokori descended like a wave of steel and authority.
At the front, three figures needed no introduction:
— Kenshiro Gai, with his steady stride and sealed sword.
The soldier who brought justice where the gods had stayed silent.
— Kyomu, in spotless Royal Guard armor, eyes empty as if his soul had been extinguished to obey without hesitation.
— And in the center…
The King.
He wore ceremonial robes barely touched by the dust of travel.
But his expression was the most unsettling thing of all.
No smile.
No game.
Only dangerous, almost divine severity.
Without a word, they crossed the coliseum gates.
The stands still void of emotion.
The air heavier than ever.
When they stopped in the middle of the chaos
the wounded bodies, the shattered illusions, the directionless ruin the King spoke.
He didn't need to raise his voice.
Every syllable was a verdict.
"This is no longer entertainment…
This is no longer fun.
Tonight… has been the funeral of the old order.
And I…
I will personally put an end to the Omnipresent… and that damned Presenter.
And more than that…
I will not let my two finest weapons destroy each other."
His gaze settled on Narikami—blood still steaming—
and on Yodaku, battered but still smiling.
He saw them for what they were:
Broken swords.
But still his.
---
When truth became a prison, only the soul willing to shatter itself could open a crack in fate.
And as gods, monsters, and kings prepared to dictate the end…
it was a boy who began to write the new beginning.
Thank you for reading this chapter of Chi no Yakusoku.
If you enjoyed it, stay tuned for the next step in this dark oath of blood.