The obsidian-scaled figure of Grym, one of the Seat of the Black Blood Kaiju, radiated scorching heat, the fire around him licking at the shattered remnants of the cityscape. His voice was a baritone rumble, heavy with disdain and ancient authority.
"Your human greed knows no bounds," Grym spat, addressing the transformed boy and the unnervingly calm girl. "The place my god always held sacred, where the Almighty One communed with the essence of the Void, was utterly destroyed by you filthy humans."
He gestured with a claw, sweeping the devastation. "Even though we, the Black Blood Kaiju, warned you humans against crossing that forbidden place, you didn't listen. Your avarice, your relentless pursuit of power or knowledge or whatever trinket you sought, defiled the sanctum."
Grym's expression twisted into something resembling deep, pious sorrow a horrifying sight on a face meant for terror. "Our Almighty One was deeply saddened by this desecration by you humans. And, as is just, He gave a decree: lay waste to that kingdom and its people."
The young girl, who had been watching the Dragon Lord with a curious tilt of her head, finally spoke, her voice still light and utterly incongruous with the scene of doom. "What? Because of that?"
Grym merely scoffed, the sound like tearing metal. "Yes. Because of that. We will now lay waste to you people. We never even bothered to take you guys seriously in the first place." His golden gaze swept over the transformed boy and the girl, dripping with condescension. "Even those so-called Kaiju Hunters are no match for us. Even you," Grym said, pointing directly at the young girl, "are nothing but a nuisance. A temporary distraction."
He straightened to his terrifying full height, the fire around him burning hotter, brighter. "Are you able to comprehend your forthcoming disaster, your extinction?"
"Then die!" Grym commanded.
From Grym's obsidian flesh, long, flexible iron whips of solidified biological energy erupted, whistling through the air with supersonic speed, aiming to reduce both the boy and the girl to paste instantly.
But before the whips could cross the intervening space, Grym suddenly froze. His massive, scaled head snapped to the side, his predatory instinct screaming a warning that overrode the divine decree, the hatred, and the crushing confidence. He felt a string of pure, distilled killing intent pierce his mind like an ice pick.
"What... what am I feeling just now?" Grym muttered, the whips retracting slightly. The feeling was ancient, powerful, and utterly dedicated to his destruction. "A mere illusion? No. It can't be. I felt it it was a killing intent directed right at me. Something is coming."
A high, tinny sound began to echo across the ruins, quickly growing in volume.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
It was the rhythmic, metallic sound of armored bodies collapsing.
Grym's head whipped around, his molten gold eye scanning the perimeter, and his snarl deepened into shock. "All my minions are dying one by one," he growled, seeing Lesser Kaiju patrols suddenly disintegrate into the black dust of the atmosphere, their life force snuffed out by an invisible wave of power.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
"What the hell is going on?" a terrified voice cried out one of the few remaining, hidden soldiers or a spearman who had survived the initial disaster, only to witness this new terror.
The Aura Slaying Art
Then, a figure emerged from the dust cloud, walking a path of instant decay and death.
"My mind is clear. I remember everything that happened."
It was the young boy, transformed and now fully possessed by the collective will and integrated power of the dead hunters. He was no longer running toward a Kaiju nest; he was walking through it, stepping over the piles of instantly formed dust.
The memory, a torrent of suffering and relentless, repeated death, flooded his mind.
"I died almost every time in the future, but I kept on going," he narrated to himself, the echo of past lives reinforcing his words. The Lesser Kaiju continued to fall, turning into dust as he merely stepped in their direction. He didn't look down; his eyes were fixed only on the Lord of Destruction.
"I can't count how long I did it. How long I lost... but I finally won. I won. I won. I won. I won." The triumphant mantra, repeated like a holy oath, spoke of countless failed timelines.
He remembered the tortuous path:
Timeline 1 to 4: "I fought in different timelines until I was able to unlock my aura. I realized it was a part of me. We became one as I continued my journey to end the Kaiju reign." The power was there, but volatile.
Timeline 5: "Finally, on my 5th try, I mastered the aura power. I was able to fuse with aura. Even my blood, my body bled aura. We were one." He mastered the link between spirit and body.
Timeline 6 and 7: Continuous, brutal training, dying to mid-tier Kaiju Lords.
Timeline 8: "On my 8th try, I finally developed a new art that would help me to use aura to the limit without straining my body. I made the power stable, a part of my fighting style."
Timeline 9 to 11: Refining the art, losing and starting over.
Timeline 12: "On my 12th try, I was able to produce aura from my body at will. A limitless supply." The true wellspring of power was opened.
Timeline 13 to 21: The final gauntlet of trials. Dying to the greatest Kaiju Lords, learning their patterns, absorbing their essence into his power.
Timeline 22: "On my 22nd try, I surpassed the limit of a human body after training, fighting, and dying at the hands of those Kaiju. Then, I mastered the strongest Kaiju-slaying ability of all time."
The young hunter finally stood still, his body now humming with a quiet, unimaginable energy. He stared at Grym, the Dragon Lord, and declared the name of the power that was born from two decades of repeated suffering and death:
"The Aura Slaying Art."