Days had passed beneath the relentless eyes of Hoshigami. The disciples had endured training so severe that their bodies trembled and their spirits burned. Now, upon the training field, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation.
Zenith stepped forward alongside Hiyori. Behind them, Lithos, Hoshigami, and Team Hinazuki gathered as silent witnesses to what was about to unfold.
Hiyori studied Zenith with a quiet intensity. "The air around you has changed," he said, his tone neither mocking nor praising, but acknowledging. "That alone tells me you've been giving everything you have."
Zenith answered not with words but by letting his body ignite. His Oborowa Mandala unfurled like a sacred wheel, its radiant glyphs spinning in divine judgment behind him.
Hiyori's lips curved faintly. "That being said… I won't hold back." He let his daggers fall to the ground with a clatter.
Oborozuka blinked in disbelief. "His weapons? He's casting them aside?"
Lithos's eyes narrowed. "Not quite. Look carefully—the Flow around him has assumed form. His body itself has become the blade."
"Indeed," Hoshigami murmured, arms crossed as though the scene were inevitable. "I trained his very existence to be a blade that could split the world itself."
Hinazuki exhaled slowly, realization dawning. "Then his arms, his legs… everything about him is a weapon."
Zenith lifted his katana skyward, his voice carrying like judgment itself. "Come to me… Blade of Judgment."
From the mandala, a winged summoning descended, radiance shaking the very air. It fired beams of light like spears from heaven, yet Hiyori cleaved them with his bare hands, dismissing them as though they were nothing more than threads of silk.
"Don't turn your back on me!" Zenith roared. "Tensei—Ryūkōzan!"
The slash carved a blazing arc, exploding into the mountainside with divine fury. Rock and dust showered the field, but when the smoke thinned, Hiyori stood untouched within a crystalline shield of frost.
Zenith's thoughts snarled against him. Today… today is the last chance I have to awaken the Sixth Sense. I cannot fail here.
Hiyori pressed a palm against the ground, and instantly the earth beneath Zenith's feet fractured and splintered apart, his stance disrupted. Frost talismans gleamed in Hiyori's grip, and from them came a storm of crystalline shards.
The Winged Summon swept in front of Zenith, wings folding to shield him. But Hiyori had already slipped behind. A single tap on Zenith's back opened flesh, blood trailing in a sharp crimson line.
He baited me, Zenith realized with a grimace. The frost shards weren't meant to kill—they were the lure. He knew the Blade of Judgment would intervene, and used that opening to strike.
The two clashed in a storm of fury. Hiyori's fists and legs struck like honed steel, each blow infused with his Flow, while Akugami met them head on, sparks and flames scattering from every contact. The mountains trembled under the weight of their duel, ridges collapsing as shockwaves thundered outward.
When the Winged Summon tried to intervene again, Hiyori's hand cut through the air in a near-invisible arc. The beast split in two and vanished before it could even cry out.
Zenith's eyes burned with determination as he slammed his blade into the ground. A dark circle unfurled across the field, shadows gripping Hiyori like chains. The weight of guilt pressed onto him, suffocating, forcing his knees to lock.
From the sidelines, Hoshigami's eyes gleamed. "He's pinning him down with his own guilt."
Hiyori's jaw tightened. I can't move…
Zenith stepped closer, each word a ragged breath. "You told me… if I could defeat you—one who already awakened the Sixth Sense—then it would mean I have it too. That means… I win."
But his words faltered as pain surged through him. Thin crimson lines carved across his body, and he collapsed to his knees, blood soaking into the dirt.
"You seem to forget," Hiyori said softly, his voice neither cruel nor kind, but absolute. "My Flow is a blade. Even bound by guilt, it still permeates through space. I extended it to you and honed it into something sharper than steel. That is why you bleed." He let out a breath. "You're still not ready."
And then something stirred. Behind him, a black reaper with a scythe rose—a summoning of guilt itself, given form by Zenith's will.
Hiyori chuckled under his breath. "So… you've even forced my guilt into existence. Truly stubborn."
He raised a talisman, eyes gleaming. "Very well then. Let's end this." He spread his arms wide, voice echoing like shattering glass. "Mirror World—open!"
The air fractured into shards, a mirrored dimension yawning outward. From its depths, countless blades surged forth, diamond-forged and radiant with holy light.
"Tenshō Kensei—Blades of Divine Retribution!"
The storm of blades fell upon the land, annihilating mountains as though they were nothing but clay. Lithos stepped forward in alarm, but Hoshigami's hand pressed against his chest.
"Do not intervene," the master said.
Yatsurugi's voice quavered with awe. "He has driven Frost to its limit… and now commands its true variation—Crystal."
Through the chaos, Zenith lay motionless. His body refused to obey, but his heart thundered defiantly.
"I can still fight," he whispered, his voice hoarse. His fingers clawed at the earth, dragging his broken frame upward. "I want to fight… but my body won't move."
A sudden clarity seared through him. To achieve the Sixth Sense, one must walk the path alone… unyielding.
His heart pounded. His will ignited. "My heart is beating. I can still fight." He roared into the heavens, voice breaking with fury and faith alike. "My body—obey the call of your master!"
The bracelet on his wrist cracked, then shattered. From within, a torrent of Flow erupted, rising like a river no longer bound. Slowly, Zenith stood, Akugami trembling in his grip before he raised it high.
Hiyori's eyes widened. "His Flow… it's alive. This is it. The Sixth Sense."
And then it came—a technique engraved upon his very soul. A forbidden flame that was his alone to wield.
Its name: Kaimetsu Enma—Flames of Purgatory.
Zenith swung his blade, and purple fire roared into existence, devouring the world in its wrath. Hiyori forged a diamond barrier, but it shattered like fragile glass. The flames consumed the mountains, turning stone to ash and sky to smoke.
When it finally cleared, Hoshigami's barrier stood tall, shielding the disciples. His eyes rested on Zenith, who collapsed unconscious, his breath ragged, his spirit ablaze.
"Had I not intervened," Hoshigami murmured, "your soul would have been purged with everything else."
But as he gazed down at Zenith's exhausted form, there was a quiet certainty in his voice.
"He's ready."