The skies above Serium Cityscape were no longer the calm twilight hues Shinjiru had glimpsed in fleeting moments. They had blackened entirely, roiling with violent storm clouds streaked in impossible shades of crimson and violet. Essence, the lifeblood of both Himen and human worlds, crackled in every direction, a chaotic dance of pure and corrupted energy colliding in bursts of light and heat. The city itself seemed to shudder under the assault, streets trembling, spires of crystal and stone quivering, the hum of the city's essence straining against the tidal waves of destruction.
Shinjiru stood atop the fractured rooftop of what had once been a residential complex, chains of his kusarigama spinning with a silver-violet glow around him. His breathing was sharp, ragged, yet controlled. Beneath his feet, cracks webbed like veins through the stone, spilling faint blue light from the ruptured Essence Rifts that dotted the cityscape. The wind tugged at his hair, whipping around him like the tendrils of some living storm, carrying the scent of ozone, blood, and corruption.
Then, from the epicenter of one particularly massive Rift, it emerged.
Orochi no Kyōfu, the Stage 4 Krawler that had haunted both his dreams and the stories whispered among the Elite 8, rose. Its form was a nightmare made flesh: seven serpentine heads, jagged veins glowing black-red with the dammed essence of countless Himen, and bodies that writhed and coiled over one another, each movement precise and predatory. Pools of Himen essence trapped within its body swirled like blood in a storm, glowing ominously as if the creature itself were alive with malice.
"You carry the blood of defiance," a voice hissed, not aloud but in Shinjiru's mind, resonating in the core of his being. One of the seven heads spoke, each syllable crawling along his spine. "Hybrid… the only one in history. You cannot survive me."
The words struck him like a lance, yet instead of fear, a fire ignited within. The violet-silver aura of his hybrid essence flared, enveloping him in radiant, pulsing chains. He could feel the surge of Himen blood intertwined with human ingenuity, each movement preempted by instinct, each strike guided by experience he did not consciously remember.
"Kaito, cover my left!" Shinjiru shouted.
Emerald light flared in response as Kaito Aokawa spun into action. His chains whipped with precision, forming barriers and traps in tandem with Shinjiru's assault. Together, they became a storm within a storm, two figures dancing atop shattered rooftops, striking with a synchronicity that could only come from trust forged in years of shared training—and yet, in Shinjiru's case, instinct alone.
The battle unfolded with blinding speed. Shinjiru struck first, recalling the lessons drilled into him by the Elite 8:
Ryuzen Kurohane's decoy shadow technique split his aura into multiple afterimages. Two of Orochi's heads lunged at them, biting into empty air, missing entirely as their targets vanished in scintillating flashes of violet.
Kaoru Myojin's Still Strike principle guided him to target the Krawler's regeneration nodes. Each precise hit slowed the rapid healing of the dammed essence, forcing the beast to stagger under repeated assault.
Setsuna Arashi's lightning-speed teachings allowed him to navigate across the battlefield, dodging essence spikes that erupted from fissures in the city, chaining attacks into unpredictable patterns.
Akihara Shion's Rose-Thorn Chains shredded strands of corrupted essence, petals blooming in midair, momentarily distracting the serpentine heads and creating openings for Shinjiru's strikes.
Even so, Orochi adapted, its intelligence terrifying. The seven heads moved with a coordination that was both methodical and chaotic, slamming the ground to create seismic shockwaves. Streets fractured beneath their blows. Essence surges erupted in brilliant arcs of light, knocking both Shinjiru and Kaito back, muscles screaming with exertion as the air itself seemed to resist their movements.
Amidst the chaos, Shinjiru's gaze fell upon the streets below. Humans and low-ranked Himen, caught in the crossfire, were trapped beneath collapsing buildings. Every instinct screamed at him to save them. Yet every second spent saving innocents allowed Orochi to regenerate, to readjust, to strike anew.
Memories he did not consciously possess flashed through him—his father, Haruto Arakami, struggling to protect Himen essence during a similar assault, breaking rules he could not yet understand, ultimately perishing at the hands of this very creature. The weight of legacy pressed down, heavy and unforgiving.
Then, clarity. A surge of control flooded through his hybrid essence. Shinjiru unleashed a pulse of pure, concentrated energy through his kusarigama, forming a protective barrier around the trapped civilians. Buildings groaned, and shards of stone flew like meteors, yet the humans remained unharmed, shielded in the orbit of violet-silver chains. His body convulsed under the strain, muscles tearing against the limits of human endurance, yet he held.
Orochi hissed—a sound that echoed through the very bones of the city. Seven heads lashed outward simultaneously, precision strikes that could obliterate even a seasoned Himen. Shinjiru's limbs burned, his vision flickered, every breath a battle against the raging essence within him. And then, realization struck: even his hybrid nature, potent as it was, could not survive a full confrontation if he intended to destroy Orochi outright.
"Too much… too much for a human…" he whispered, teeth gritted against the pain.
Summoning every ounce of control, Shinjiru enacted the final plan. Chains laced with concentrated violet-silver energy shot outward, wrapping around Orochi's massive form in intricate patterns. His aura pulsed violently, each beat a drum of power, until a singular, devastating surge of essence coursed through the kusarigama. The dammed Himen cores within the Krawler screamed, the corrupted energy igniting in a purifying explosion of light.
The surrounding district erupted. Buildings shattered, rubble flew, essence surged violently into the sky. Orochi's roar echoed, seven heads thrown into disarray as its massive form disintegrated, strands of corrupted energy unraveling into sparks and dissipating into the ether.
But Shinjiru could not endure the backlash. Every muscle convulsed, every bone trembled, his essence tearing through the fragile human shell that had housed it. Vision blurred, the world dissolving into a white haze, and then—nothing.
When consciousness returned, he found himself suspended in an ethereal plane. Deep indigo-gray light radiated from a figure before him. Reijin Kurogami, the Master of Life & Death, had come personally.
"Shinjiru Arakami," the voice intoned, calm yet heavy with authority, "you have done what no human—or Himen—could achieve alone. You have restored balance between worlds. But the price of your hybrid essence cannot remain in your mortal body. I will restore your life, but at a cost…"
A surge of energy engulfed him. Memories—the pain, the victories, the friends, the sacrifices—erased, leaving only the physical vessel of the boy behind. When he awoke, sunlight fell through his bedroom window. Birds sang. The violet shard on his bedside table pulsed faintly, a whisper of the essence that had once surged within him, dormant yet alive.
Somewhere beyond consciousness, the Elite 8 observed silently. The first 9th Elite Himen had lived, saved both realms, and sacrificed everything. One day, they knew, he might return—not as Shinjiru Arakami the boy, but as a force capable of reshaping the Serium Realm forever.