The silence that fell after the blow was like the world itself holding its breath. The Veil, once absolute and suffocating, now disintegrated into ethereal fragments, like the ashes of a dead god.
Dante lay among distorted rubble, marks of the impact burning on Akira's usurped body. He rose slowly, his head lolling for a moment until a crack sounded as he realigned the vertebrae in his neck.
A hoarse laugh escaped his lips. Almost a guffaw.
— Again... — he murmured, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes, wild, still laughed. — That damned boy...
Dante stared at Tekio with rage and fascination.
— How? HOW are you still standing? Your body is in pieces. Your soul should be begging to go out.
For a moment, his gaze fell upon Mei—the empress who until that moment had seemed untouchable. Now kneeling, twisted, bleeding from deep cuts, her right eye open in an empty void, her arm hanging by torn tendons. She was the image of absolute defeat. A monument to pain.
And Tekio stared at her.
He trembled.
Not from fear.
But from something boiling under his skin. Something breaking. Something that could no longer stay silent.
The weight of the scene corroded his soul. Mei... Mei was... Empty... In other words. Dead. The woman who had taken him in, trained him, defended him, shouted for him. She was there... as Aisha had been. Like all who had trusted him.
He felt his throat close.
Felt hot tears fall without being able to stop them.
Felt the guilt tear a piece from him, like a blade passing through his bones.
— I failed again... — he whispered, his lips barely moving.
Dante watched this with pure delight.
— What a beautiful scene... will you break now, Tekio? Will you fall for good? Like a good burden dragging others into the abyss?
But he stopped.
Because something... something was still wrong.
Dante tried to summon the Veil. An impulse of black energy exploded in his palms—but it was in vain. The power of the Abyss did not respond.
— ...What? — His expression hardened. — No. It can't be...
The Veil rejected him. Tekio's presence poisoned it. That boy, wretched and broken, was now a flaw in the plans. An error that hell itself refused to accept.
Though perhaps it wasn't just Tekio; Akira's Veil required power to be invoked. Dante would have to wait longer to draw a real conclusion.
Tekio, even through tears, remained firm.
The rage pulsed in him like an extra heart.
A crimson, electric, living beat.
"Impure," a voice whispered inside him—an ancient, feminine, intense voice.
He saw the woman in the darkness of his mind again—hair white as a storm, skin completely dark, and light eyes with no iris or pupils.
The red aura surrounding him throbbed like fire about to explode. It wasn't blind fury. It was a fierce, channeled pain. It was the answer.
Tekio looked at Dante with eyes that no longer belonged to a weak boy.
— I... will kill you — he snarled.
— And this time... I won't stop until you beg.
Dante narrowed his eyes.
He felt it.
The imbalance. The crack spreading through reality itself.
And finally, he smiled—not with joy, but with cruel anticipation.
— Then come, Tekio. Show me what remains... of a broken heart.
Guilt lodged itself in Tekio like barbs from a cold, endless blade.
He could barely breathe, his body still trembling from the exchanged blows, but what hurt wasn't his flesh. It was what he hadn't been able to prevent. Aisha… now Mei.
"I am a burden."
"I was late. Late again."
"If I were stronger... this wouldn't have happened."
These thoughts devoured him from within. Like echoes of a recent past, like heavy chains bound to his bones. But there was something more. A buried fury, ancient and impersonal, that pulsed like lava under his skin. Something alive and conscious... but that wasn't him.
Not just him.
It was Yara—the guardian, the soul that reincarnated with him. It was also the silent shadow within him, moving with every beat of his heart. And it was something even more ancestral. Brutal. Something that didn't even have a name. Something he didn't even dare to comprehend.
Dante took a step forward. The air around him split with visible cracks.
— You smell of the Abyss... — he murmured, without irony, without sarcasm. Only fascination. — You're not just a reincarnation. You can't be. When you arrived... the Veil shuddered. That feeling returned.
For a moment, Dante closed his eyes.
Silence.
Time seemed to stop. The ground whispered memories. The dark sky pressed on their lungs.
— What are you, boy?
Tekio did not answer. He screamed. A roar more brute than human. And he charged.
The exchange was fast. Violent. But this time, unbalanced.
Dante was on another level. More than that—prepared.
He parried Tekio's blow with a single arm, spun his body, and then delivered a devastating punch. The sound of the impact wasn't just loud—it was cosmic, as if the world itself had groaned.
Tekio flew. His body cut through the air like a projectile and smashed dozens of meters ahead. The ground shook with the impact, cracking under his wounded body.
He did not get up.
Blood streamed from his mouth, his eyes, his ears. And yet, he did not close his eyes. Because he could still see.
Mei.
She lay in a puddle of already dried, blackened blood. Her body seemed... empty. Without light. Without an aura. Not even the last ashes of the fire that defined her. Nothing remained.
She died.
Because of me.
A sob tore through Tekio from within.
But then... something twisted the world. A shudder. A noise that didn't come from outside—but from within. A weight... a tension growing like a high note about to explode.
Dante felt it too.
He turned slowly.
In the center of the puddle, the blood bubbled.
Not from heat.
But from energy.
Disguised. Hidden. But dense. Almost alive.
Dante narrowed his eyes. Took a step back.
Silence.
— ...
— Seriously... that hurt a lot...
The voice that rose was weak. Hoarse. But alive.
Tekio's eyes widened. His breath caught in his chest.
Dante stood motionless. Almost paralyzed.
In the puddle, something rose. Gradually. As if death were being forcibly ripped from its body.
It was Mei.
Her bones cracked, her muscles rebuilt themselves as if an invisible flame coursed through every cell. The wounds healed—but the blood remained. Like marks. Like memories.
She tore the burned remnants of the Sif cloak from her body, throwing them to the ground with disdain. Only her torn pants and a black long-sleeved shirt remained, hanging in tatters on her left arm. Her body was still covered in dried blood. But she was standing.
Again.
Alive.
And her eyes... shone gold.
— Never thought I'd use this... — she murmured, opening and closing her fists, feeling life return in waves. — But I did well to create this technique.
She smiled. A crooked smile. Painful. But whole.
— Bizarre, huh...? I'm back, you bastard.
Dante took another step back.
He was the predator. The reaper. The regent of the Veil.
But something inside him... trembled.
— How...? — he whispered. It wasn't skepticism. It was genuine astonishment. She had been dead. No being could survive that. Not even a complete soul. The Veil had been absolute.
But now... the Veil was broken. The rules, shattered.
— Technique...? — he repeated, almost voiceless. It wasn't possible. It made no sense. A technique like that—capable of regenerating an entire body, including organs and soul, after partial death, without activation, without a catalyst? That wasn't a technique. It was... survival by denial.
Insane.
His smile faded, replaced by a nervous grimace.
— Such a student... such a teacher... — he murmured, staring at the two with red eyes. — You two... are hard to break. And to kill.
You are... Untamable.
Mei took a step forward. The ground sank under her feet.
She didn't seem furious. She was fury.
And amid the rubble, Tekio wept. In silence. But not from pain. Not from guilt. He wept to see her there. Standing.
She came back.
And for the first time in a long time... he didn't feel like a burden.
He felt hope.
But the war... wasn't over yet.
Not by a long shot.
To be continued...