Kouji skidded back, confusion slicing through him.
That wasn't an error. That was impossible.
With a rush of panic, Kouji dropped to one knee, touched the ground, and focused. He tried again—this time visualizing a spear. He pulled from the materials near him like second nature.
But nothing formed.
The air stayed still. The weight didn't pull into his fingers. His aura sparked—but nothing came.
He shook his hand like it was broken, his breath short.
Again.
And again.
He reached. Pulled. Focused.
No resistance. No feedback. No form.
He raised his arm instinctively and swung—desperate to summon something mid-motion.
His hand cut through empty air.
The hollow sound of nothing echoed louder than any clash.
Akechi finally spoke, his voice unnervingly calm. "I altered the past of your construct, Kouji. It never existed. Your ability, as marvelous as it is… has nothing to reconstruct."
Kouji stood there, body locked in a swing that never meant anything. His lips trembled. He felt like a statue cracked in the chest.
"I…" His voice cracked. "I just—"
He tried again. A knife. A blade. Anything.
Still nothing.
He stumbled a step back, his foot catching awkwardly. His eyes shook.
"I finally understood it. I finally… had control. I trained for weeks. I thought I could stand on the front lines again. I thought I—"
He looked at his hands. They weren't shaking because he was afraid.
They were shaking because he had never felt this powerless.
"You're saying I can't make anything?"
"No," Akechi replied quietly. "I'm saying, I've erased the concept of it, so your curse cannot reach what no longer was. Creation always comes from something. But you are trying to combine water with fire"
Kouji's knees gave out. He dropped, fists pressed against the ground, face shadowed.
All the training, all the rebuilding of confidence. All the steps he had taken since his exclusion from missions… the control he earned, the people he had fought beside…
Gone, in a blink.
"I'm nothing again," he muttered, voice drowned by static. "I finally came this far. I thought I was strong. That I mattered. That I was—"
His voice stopped.
His aura sparked out erratically, lashing in uneven waves, no longer under the steady control he once held.
"I made it this far just to—"
Inside his head, something shifted.
A gentle rumble. Not threatening.
"Do you just want to watch?"
The voice. That low, deep rumble. His Devils words from back then.
Kouji gritted his teeth.
He didn't speak.
Then keep standing.
He inhaled sharply.
He remembered Yuusuke, injured, still fighting somewhere behind him. Ketsu, brash and reckless. Yumi's soft voice in the corridor. The weight of Ryo's gaze, always watching, always expecting.
You're not made to run, Kouji.
The Devil's voice didn't comfort him. It reminded him.
He clenched his fists tighter. His teeth dug into his lip until blood formed.
But as he tried to rise, Akechi took a step forward, his hands still relaxed at his sides.
"You're talented," Akechi said. "No doubt. Your father would be proud. But talent isn't enough. Not when I can rewrite the origin of things."
Kouji surged up again, snarling, and reached for the air beside him—he knew there was still construction steel behind him—he had touched it.
He focused. Pulled. Visualized a jagged blade.
He felt the aura rise—then sputter.
Nothing.
He threw his arm anyway.
The swing carried his entire body—and hit nothing. Again.
The image of him lunging forward, arm wide, only to pass through air—it was pathetic. It humiliated him.
He froze, eyes blank.
For the first time since their meeting, Akechi looked down at Kouji—not with scorn—but a quiet sadness. "Your father didn't leave behind a miracle. He left behind a target. One that will only grow heavier."
Kouji fell again to one knee.
This time, the Devil didn't speak.
Just the sound of silence—
—and the pressure of defeat settled like dust.
Then, somewhere in the distance, a faint tremor.
A pressure.
Aura. Focused. Massive.
A voice.
"You talk too much."
A step echoed through the area.
Akechi turned slightly.
Ryo had arrived.
Kagami followed quietly behind him.
And with them… a pale white-haired girl, unfamiliar and unreadable.
Sora.
Kouji looked up, eyes widening. The world blurred at the edges, but he saw Ryo's face.
In Kouji's eyes new hope formed.
But,
The fight wasn't over.