The silence was deafening.
No wind. No movement. Just the slow, quiet descent of snow, drifting down like pieces of a world that had just broken.
Where Gorozai had stood, there was nothing — not even a scar in the earth, not even the memory of his weight upon the ground. The void left behind was not absence; it was negation, as if the demon had never existed.
Shinsei straightened, blades still in hand. The color had returned to them, but they felt heavier — not in the steel, but in the spirit. The Jade Dragon's hilt seemed warmer than usual. The Azure Blade's edge, colder.
His breaths came slow, measured — not because he wished to look composed, but because anything faster might topple him.
Suno finally took a step forward, his boots crunching through the thin crust of snow.
He stopped a short distance away, his expression unreadable.
Suno: "…You finally showed it."
Shinsei's gaze flicked toward him.
Shinsei: "Had to."
There was no arrogance in the answer — only truth.
Suno studied him, eyes tracing the faint mark still glowing on Shinsei's forehead. It pulsed gently, as if breathing with him.
Suno: "Tensei no Kamae. The Imperial Domain of the Dancing gods. And then… Enlightenment itself."
His tone was not admiration. Not awe. It was reverence — the quiet, instinctive respect given when one stands before a temple.
Suno: "…And Zetsuro no Tachi. I thought it lost."
Shinsei gave a faint, almost imperceptible shrug.
Shinsei: "Some things can't be taught."
The surviving disciples had gathered, though none dared to speak first. Even Zenith — normally unshakable —gathered energy and stood frozen, his hands clenched at his sides, eyes locked on Shinsei as though afraid he might vanish like Gorozai had.
He had seen men fight before. He had seen monsters fall.
But he had never seen a man fight as if he were not bound by the same world as the rest of them.
His throat tightened. The words he wanted to say — gratitude, admiration, questions — all tangled into silence.
Instead, he simply bowed his head. Deeply in tears.
The air began to move again, faint currents of wind slipping between the warriors. Somewhere in the distance, a raven cried — the first sound to pierce the aftermath.
Shinsei looked up at the sky, snow melting on his face. His body felt like a hollow vessel — not empty, but… used. Every reserve spent, every measure of will poured into that final strike.
Yet his mind was still. Clearer than it had ever been.
For the first time, he understood why the elders called Enlightenment "the still water beneath the storm."
Far away, Kenzo Shinigami sat motionless in the shadows, his grin gone. His fingers tapped his armrest once, twice, before stilling completely.
Kenzo: "…So, it wasn't just Gorozai who was worth watching."
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his aura flared — not in rage, but in interest. The kind of interest that marks the birth of a future confrontation.
Shinsei dropped the Jade Dragon, then the Azure Blade. The sound of steel sliding home was the only reply.
Shards of ice glimmered around Shinsei, sealing the last life force he had in a cryostatis.
It was Yuki Ona's last gift to them, an attempt to help.
Suno finally spoke again, breaking the stillness.
Suno: "Rest while you can, Shinsei. That technique… it takes more than it gives."
The war was over,
Above them, the clouds began to part, revealing a pale arc of moonlight.
The snow stopped falling. The sky breathed again.
And for one fleeting heartbeat, the world felt… safe.
But only for one.