Author's Note: //////I'm sorry for the silence this past week. Between the end of the semester and the rush of the New Year, I decided to take a much-needed nap from college life and the daily grind. I'm back now but still I will take some more days off to recharge me.//// :Author's Note
As that blast appeared in that place, not the fire but like the sky tearing itself apart. Thunder rolled downward instead of across, collapsing in vertical pillars, while petals, white, black burst outward as if the explosion had ruptured a gigantic, unseen flower. Those petals did not fall. They screamed.
Each flutter were being hit by another summoned thunderstorm, overlapping roars stacking upon roars, the air vibrating like a living throat being crushed. Dust rose, thick and choking, mixed with the metallic stench of blood and ozone, and as it slowly settled, the truth of battlefield revealed itself: the battle had not ended. It had multiplied and became one sided.
Across the ruined field, the human pair born from petals clashed with the monster in fragments of space, appearing and vanishing like stars dragged into lines by a mad hand. One moment they fought near shattered stone spires, the next atop broken clouds of debris suspended mid-air. Every collision birthed shockwaves, ripping ground open, tearing corpses of trees into spirals.
The dragon's armour, once radiant, engraved with ancient sigils, was now a corpse itself, edges curled inward like burned bone. Scars along his body split open again and again. Behind the disk-like eye embedded in his skull, a thin crack spread, spiderwebbing slowly, leaking dim light like a dying star.
Flower petals stabbed beneath his armour, sliding into gaps with obscene intimacy. Each petal transformed mid-strike, first fingers, then blades, then mouths whispering curses before reverting back to petals soaked in blood. From one ruined arm, blood poured in heavy arcs, sizzling when it touched the thunder-charged ground. The tiger, his mount, was gone. It was clear now: to survive the final blow, the dragon had sacrificed it without hesitation.
His wings hung in tatters, membranes shredded, bones exposed and sparking. One leg was gone below the knee, nothing but vapor and dangling armour. Still, he moved. Still, he fought. Retreating toward the gate, he lashed out wildly, tearing through swarms of flying petals that became women screaming in unison, then men with hollow eyes, then petals again, endlessly cycling. "Get away from me!" the dragon roared, voice cracking, each word shaking the storm. "You think this mockery is victory?!"
"There is no road left for you," one of the petal-forms whispered as it stabbed through his shoulder. Another laughed, voice splitting into dozens, "Forward or back, dragon, the blooming is everywhere."
He surged forward twice, desperation fueling him, only to be driven back harder each time, petals slamming him into craters that instantly refilled with blooming bodies. The more they bloomed, the more horrifying it became, not beauty, not rebirth, only infinite creation without death. Limbs grew, were severed, regrew. Faces screamed, melted, reformed. No one died. Neither the people nor the creator allowed release.
At last, the dragon halted. Smoke poured from his armor, sparks dying out. He stood there, shaking, surrounded by a sea of petals and half-formed humans writhing in agony.
The boy watched silently, eyes reflecting the storm. "So even gods can bleed," he murmured. Then, colder, "Now let's finish you."
He drew upon the air itself, fingers carving symbols that burned invisible wounds into space. The pairs around him were suddenly ripped away, flung backward as if reality itself rejected them. The dragon staggered, shocked, lifting his cracked gaze toward the boy.
"You heretic bastard!" the dragon screamed, voice breaking into rage and fear. "Use every move you have! Remember this—I will come back. I will crawl out of whatever hell you throw me into and kill you at the end!"
Those pairs again and again, without pause, without mercy. They descended on him like a storm that had learned hatred. Blades grew from petals, chains from veins, fists from blooming ribs. He was not given even a breath to scream. Every time he tried to move, another strike landed—ribs crushed, armor peeled away piece by piece like rotting skin. His roar dissolved into a choking rasp as chains of petals wrapped around his limbs, then his torso, tightening with a wet, grinding sound. One by one, the last fragments of his divine armor shattered and fell, ringing against the ground like funeral bells.
At last, they bound him completely. A sphere of petals closed around his body, layered and suffocating, sealing everything except his back eye and his mouth. From within, his breathing was visible as the petals trembled. His behind disk exposed rolled wildly, veins bulging, light flickering in frantic pulses. Blood leaked through the seams, dripping slowly, almost politely.
The boy lifted his brush again.
The torii gate groaned.
From its shadow, the samurai emerged once more. He rose until he stood at the same height as the bound being. He raised both hands as if gripping an invisible hilt, muscles tensing with ritualistic certainty. The air screamed as the remaining petals rushed upward - toward him, spiralling above his head. Black and white intertwined, forming a colossal saber, its edge vibrating, screaming with the voices of the dead embedded within it.
The samurai brought it down.
The petal sphere split cleanly in half, along with the being inside it. The blade continued, impaling the broken god straight into the top beam of the gate. A massive gash tore through the sacred wood, splinters flying like bones. Had the gate not suddenly shuddered, resisting with an unseen force, it would have been cleaved in two.
Then the blood came.
It burst from the impaled body like a fountain—thick, heavy, obscene. Divine radiance mixed with demonic filth, pouring endlessly, soaking the gate until every rune was drowned, glowing beneath layers of blood like submerged eyes. The field stank of iron and burning flesh. The being's mouth hung open, frozen in a silent scream, teeth cracking, jaw trembling as black smoke poured out.
The gate vibrated violently.
Not like wood shaking, but like a body waking after a coma.
A pulse throbbed through it. Once. Twice. The runes ignited fully, crawling across the surface like veins filling with blood. The impaled body began to dissolve, flesh melting as if exposed to unbearable heat, sliding down the gate in molten streams. A dull, rhythmic dum-dum echoed from within the gate, slow and massive, like the footsteps of a heart learning how to beat again.
The door creaked open, just a slit.
From the darkness inside, a colossal eye appeared. Ancient. Endless. It opened slightly, gazed upon the battlefield, and then closed again. The pressure alone crushed the air; petals flattened against the ground, stones cracked, thunder went silent in fear. As the last of the impaled body burned away, a laughter echoed—broken, victorious, venomous.
"I won… at the end," the voice rasped. "Do your work, kami…"
The oppression fell like a weight from the sky. Wind swept across the field, carrying lotus petals that danced unnaturally, twisting as if trying to flee. But boy's eye was not on it but side ways where that girl sat.
But she was gone.
An instinct screamed. He twisted just as a hand flashed near his back. But she was not there, he turned his head and saw her standing there, but not her. One half of her face was twisted, veins black and pulsing, eye glowing crimson with hunger. The other half was soaked in tears, lips trembling, pupils shaking violently as if resisting something tearing her apart from the inside.
"Quickly… kill me!" the human half screamed, voice cracking, saliva mixed with blood dripping from her mouth. Her expression was pure terror, eyes wide, brows torn upward, jaw clenched in agony. The demonic half smiled, lips curling slowly, eye narrowing with cruel delight.
"She's lying," the demon half whispered sweetly. "You don't want to hurt me… look at your hands shaking."
"Don't listen!" the human side cried again, sobbing now. "She's trying to conquer me again. If she does, if I lose, the gate will open fully! Their real body will come through!"
Her body convulsed violently, shoulders jerking, head snapping to the side as two voices fought for control. "Even if you save me," she gasped, blood running from her nose, "even with both our powers… we can't defeat it."
But he smiled at her. His eyes narrowed slightly as he tilted his head, studying her fractured face as if she were an unfinished painting.
"Well then," he said calmly, almost casually, "tell me something first. Which one of you is real? The demoness… or the human?" His smile widened a fraction. "Or did you already die, and what remains is only a soul pretending to remember its body? Perhaps you're still searching for your own identity."
The demoness laughed softly, a sound like glass grinding against bone. Her crimson eye gleamed with arrogance, lips stretching unnaturally wide. "Soul?" she scoffed. "There is no soul here. Look closely, boy. I am the body. I am the will. I am the kami. I am the real one."
The human half shook violently, tears streaming down her pale cheek. Her breath came in broken gasps, teeth chattering as if frozen from within. "Don't listen to her," she cried, voice raw and hoarse. "I died long ago. What you see now—this is only a fragment. Half of my soul is bound to her, and the other half was taken by what sleeps behind that gate." Her eyes trembled as they met his, desperation clawing through them. "This body… it's forged. That being made it just to survive the curse." She clenched her chest, fingers digging into flesh. "We'll talk later, please do something now, or she will take everything. My body… or worse—she'll hand it to that thing behind the gate."
Before another word could be spoken, the air screamed.
The samurai moved.
Without warning, he raised his hands once more toward the heavens. The colossal saber manifested instantly—no buildup, no mercy—and came crashing down toward her. The woman screamed, eyes widening in pure terror, while the demoness smiled in anticipation, arms spreading as if welcoming the blade.
The strike reached them and...
From the gate, two enormous hands burst outward, blackened and cracked, fingers twisted like burned roots. They clapped together with a thunderous boom, intercepting the saber's energy. Still, the saber's force pushed through, slicing cleanly through one of the hands. A shriek echoed, not one voice, but many layered together. Blood sprayed across the gate, and a fresh wound split open along its surface.
The boy eyes blazed. "Good," he said coldly. "Now it's clear."
The woman screamed as her body convulsed. A horrific tearing sound filled the air. Flesh split—not outward, but apart. Light and darkness ripped away from each other. "No—!" the human half cried, reaching out desperately. "Please—don't—!"
The demoness laughed wildly, head thrown back, veins glowing beneath her skin. "Yes! Tear us apart! Let the lie end!"
They separated.
Two bodies stood on the air, one human, pale and shaking, breath shallow, eyes hollow with exhaustion. The other demonic, tall and radiant with corrupt power, horns curling backward as shadows poured off her skin like smoke.
Where their hearts should have been, there was nothing.
Only a green crystal.
It pulsed slowly, grotesquely alive. A single orb, suspended between them, throbbing like a diseased heart which was split in two cleanly.
For a moment, silence ruled.
Then the demoness erupted into laughter, unhinged, ecstatic, triumphant. "Hahahaha!" Her face twisted into manic joy, eyes burning brighter than before. "After a millennium… I am free!" Her body began to regenerate rapidly, torn flesh knitting itself together with writhing shadows. "I will call the Great Chaos upon this world. You—" she pointed at the boy, "—you and you and every crawling thing here—I will slaughter you all!" Her grin widened grotesquely. "I will raze this land, march into heaven itself, and tear it down stone by stone!"
The human woman struggled to stand, her body reforming too—but weak, flickering, barely holding shape. She looked at the demoness with hollow eyes, hatred and sorrow mixing together. "This… is my fault," she whispered. "I should have ended it long ago."
They moved to attack each other.
But then—
The gate pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
A sudden, invisible force seized them both. Their eyes dulled instantly, light draining away. The human opened her mouth to scream for help, but no sound came. The demoness's laughter cut off mid-breath, her grin freezing into shock as the pull intensified.
The ground cracked.
The boy spun around just as the gate doors exploded forward.
They lunged toward him like living jaws. He summoned wall after wall of petals, screaming into existence, layering them desperately. The doors tore through them as if they were mist. The samurai rushed forward, blade raised, striking with everything he had—
The doors laughed.
A deep, resonant laughter that vibrated inside the skull.
With impossible strength, they slammed into the samurai, crushing him against the torii gate. Stone shattered. Two massive columns collapsed, exploding into dust and black - soaked debris. Only the top part of the torii gate remained, hanging by a single splintered beam, swaying like a corpse suspended by a tendon. The rest lay crushed beneath stone, and petals that no longer bloomed but twitched. The boy sat on the broken beam casually, legs dangling over the sea. He laughed, high, sharp, utterly out of place.
"So," he said, eyes curved into crescents, pupils thin as needles, "the hidden thing finally crawled out." His smile widened, stretching his face unnaturally. "Then this really was a bad thing."
From the gate, a red aura erupted, not flowing, but breathing. It came like a wind made of hatred, carrying dread so dense the air felt heavy, sticky. The endless blooming sea began to rot. Petals curled inward, blackened, then burst open again as hellish lotuses, their centres lined with teeth. The land reshaped itself violently. Mountains twisted, their surfaces bulging, splitting open to reveal rows of black human heads fused together, mouths gaping in silent screams. From their eye sockets poured thick, tar-like blood, cascading down like grotesque waterfalls.
Fountains surged upward, no longer water but arterial sprays, red and pulsing, splashing rhythmically as if synced to a heartbeat. Cracks split the earth, and from them rose trees—if they could be called trees—trunks made of vertebrae, branches of ribcages, leaves of skulls stacked impossibly, faces pressed together, expressions frozen in terror and ecstasy at once. The structures defied logic, angles bending inward, spiraling endlessly. And yet—there was beauty. Terrifying, divine beauty. As if a god, bored with perfection, had painted the world again using only nightmares.
The boy's face reflected that beauty. His eyes shone with fascination. "Look at that," he murmured. "Even hell has aesthetics."
Then the gate screamed.
Before it could fully rupture, two colossal hands burst out, veins bulging like serpents beneath cracked skin. They seized the remaining figures nearby and when about to grab that boy. His hand moved forward and from index finger a shot went towards that hand with an energy arc. The demoness snarled, teeth bared, rage contorting her features as shadows wrapped around her neck.
"No—wait—!" the human cried.
"Don't pull me back in!" the demoness roared. "I'm free! I'm—!"
Another shout echoed from inside the gate, deeper, layered, ancient.
Then the gate exploded.
It burst apart like a thousand bodies detonating at once. Blood flooded outward in a tidal wave, thick and choking, carrying fragments of bone, armor, faces. The river surged violently—then parted, splitting cleanly down the center, revealing a towering silhouette stepping forward.
It had eight arms.
Its body was split perfectly—one half radiant like a fallen god, skin etched with glowing runes, the other half warped and blackened, veins crawling visibly beneath the flesh. Three eyes stared from its face, the central one opening slowly, iris rotating unnaturally. One hand formed the vayu mudra, fingers poised delicately, while another rested in abhaya mudra, palm outward—peace and terror aligned horizontally. The remaining six arms wielded different weapons: a trident dripping blood, a blade made of screams, a wheel cracked and spinning, chains writhing like worms, a bow with no string, and a mace fused with skulls.
Behind it floated nine broken rings, rotating unevenly, scraping against each other with a sound like teeth grinding.
Two more heads burst out beside the central one.
The demoness's head, eyes blazing, grin stretched impossibly wide.
The woman's head, pale and trembling, tears streaming as her lips quivered.
All three laughed.
The laughter did not echo but it pressed. The ground split further. Mountains collapsed. The sky fractured like glass. Lightning tore downward in jagged lines, oceans surged backward, winds screamed as if skinned alive. The boy stared up at the being, his smile slowly fading, not into fear, but into something sharper, more focused as the world convulsed around them and the new god-demon took its first step forward…
To be Continued...