The transition from the Axiomatic Palace to the North Sea was like being struck by a falling mountain. The Architects were slammed onto the deck of a Viking longship. The air was a freezing slurry of salt spray and woodsmoke.
Around them, thirty Norsemen—men of iron and scars—were checking the edges of their axes. Malak's voice echoed in their minds, cold and absolute.
"Your reward is waiting. Help the boy, Thorfinn, in his battle. Do not look for a trick. In this world, there is only the law of iron. Kill those who stand against him, or the system terminates you. This is your last chance."
[RESTRICTION PROTOCOL: POWER CAP AT 5%]
The Architects looked at their hands. They were clad in heavy furs and crude leather. Their divine weapons were gone, replaced by heavy, notched iron.
"We have to do it," Jin-Woo said, his voice raspy. He gripped a short sword, feeling the terrifying absence of his shadows. "If we don't spill blood here, we never see home again."
The longship ground into the shingles of an English beach. Ahead lay a fortified village, the bells of a small stone church ringing in a frantic, hopeless rhythm. Thorfinn, a boy with hollow, hateful eyes, was the first off the boat, a blur of motion with twin daggers.
"Move!" the commander, Askeladd, roared.
The Architects surged forward. They reached the village gates just as a line of English defenders stood their ground, spears leveled. These were not monsters; they were men with families, shaking with terror.
Tanjiro drew his iron sword. His breath hitched as he smelled the overwhelming scent of their fear. He remembered Koro-sensei's students. If he failed here, he'd never see Nezuko.
"Forgive me," Tanjiro whispered.
The clash was brutal. Jin-Woo moved like a ghost, his 5% strength still making him an elite predator. He parried a spear and drove his blade into a soldier's chest. The warmth of the blood soaking into his wool tunic was a physical shock. He felt every vibration of the blade hitting bone.
Gojo was finding it harder. Without Infinity, he had to dive into the mud to avoid a mace. "Physicality," Gojo spat, wiping filth from his eyes. He stepped inside a soldier's guard and delivered a palm strike to the windpipe. The man collapsed, clawing at his throat, his face turning purple.
Okarun was screaming, swinging a club wildly. He narrowly avoided an axe and managed to trip a defender, allowing a Viking to finish the job. The reality of the carnage—the screams, the smell of bowels and iron—was breaking him.
In the center of the village, Thorfinn was surrounded. Saitama arrived first. Even at 5%, his punch buckled a man's breastplate, sending him flying ten feet back with shattered ribs.
"This is depressing," Saitama said, looking at the fallen men. "They're so fragile."
Tanjiro reached Thorfinn just as a broadsword was raised over the boy's head. Tanjiro parried, the vibration numbing his arms. He spun, slashing the guard's thigh, then finished him with a thrust to the heart. He didn't look at the man's face. He couldn't.
The village was falling. The screaming died down, replaced by the crackle of burning thatch. The Architects stood among the ruins, their furs soaked in blood that wasn't their own.
The world began to shimmer. The mud and fire dissolved into the sterile porcelain of the Axiomatic Palace. They stood before Malak, exhausted and broken.
"It is done," Jin-Woo declared. "The task is finished. Send us home."
Malak smiled—a terrible, silent crack in the porcelain. "I must say, I am impressed. You've learned the lesson of the Law of Iron. You've learned that you will stain your hands to survive. You have been refined."
He paused, his eyes glowing with a malicious light.
"However, I believe I left out a single detail. The energy required to restore a soul is immense. My calculations conclude that I only have enough fuel to send four of you back."
The silence was deafening.
"Four?" Okarun squeaked. "There are seven of us!"
"Correct," Malak replied. "Four will return. The other three... their worlds will be restarted. Every memory, every person you love—deleted. You will simply cease to have ever existed."
Malak gestured to a floating, black crystalline box.
"You shall draw lots to decide the pairings. You will fight to the max, with your real powers restored. Consider it the Final Selection. If you want to see your families again... you must ensure you are one of the four."
[SYSTEM OVERRIDE: ALL POWER LIMITERS REMOVED]
[MATCH 1: TANJIRO VS. OKARUN]
[MATCH 2: SAITAMA VS. DAZAI]
[MATCH 3: GOJO VS. JIN-WOO]
"Kazuma," Malak added, "you are left out. You will fight the winner of the losers' bracket. Fight, my Architects. Show me who is worthy of existence."