ARC II — "THE FALL OF THE FALSE GODS"
The battlefield had become a storm of ruin. Smoke and ash mingled with fire and rain, creating a gray haze that suffocated the senses.
Kurotsume knelt in the rubble, chest heaving, blood seeping through torn fabric. His aura flickered weakly, silver flames sputtering like dying embers. Every muscle screamed, every breath burned.
Vorak hovered above the chaos, calm as ever, arms folded. His gaze pierced through the battlefield, eyes locking onto Kurotsume like a predator savoring its prey.
"Look at you,"* Vorak said softly, voice amplified across the field.*
"Battered. Broken. Yet still standing. You amuse me."
The generals circled him like predators. Kaelith, Lutharion, Morgath, Vorran, and the rest — seven of them, each coordinating attacks with inhuman precision.
Kurotsume looked up slowly, one hand brushing blood from his lip. "Amuse… me?"
A blade grazed his shoulder. Sparks flew. He winced but didn't move. Just stared.
"You've already lost,"* Vorak continued.*
"And you don't even realize it. Every move you made was foreseen. Every strike, calculated. You are… mine."
The demon hissed furiously inside Kurotsume's mind.
"No… he's lying! Don't believe him!"
Kurotsume's gaze didn't waver. His smirk returned faintly, though his voice was rougher.
"Then let's see whose prediction comes true."
The generals attacked simultaneously. Energy, fire, gravity — a storm of destruction. Kurotsume blocked some, dodged others, but the sheer force began tearing through him.
A strike from Kaelith sent him crashing through a collapsed spire, debris smashing his limbs. Lutharion's blades slashed across his chest. Morgath's hammer crushed the ground near him, sending shockwaves that shattered his balance. Vorran's lightning coursed along his veins, burning him from the inside.
Every hit left a mark. Every moment brought pain. His aura flickered dangerously, his form wavering as if on the edge of collapse.
Siel's scream echoed across the battlefield. "Kurotsume! You can't keep—!"
He raised a hand weakly, voice rough but calm. "I… like it."
The demon whispered in disbelief.
"He's taking that much damage and still—he's not breaking?!"
Vorak smiled faintly, letting the generals continue.
"Good," he said. "Feel your mortality. Let it suffocate you. Only then will you be ready… to awaken."
Kurotsume's body trembled under the assault. He fell to his knees again, coughing blood, aura sputtering.
The generals closed in, sensing victory. "It's over," Morgath bellowed. "Finish him!"
And for a brief moment, everything froze — the sky, the storm, the battlefield.
Then, deep within him, a faint pulse stirred. Something old, hidden, and untouchable. The demon whispered, reverent and awed.
"It's… awake… the fragment… he's ready…"
Kurotsume's eyes glimmered faintly beneath blood and sweat. The smirk returned, colder this time.
"I'm not done yet."
Vorak's expression faltered for the first time. "What…?"
Kurotsume raised a trembling hand. Aura flared violently, warping space subtly — but the full power had not yet been unleashed. This was only the seed of what was coming.
The battlefield quaked under the strain. Generals stumbled. The storm above roared. The rain hissed. Even Vorak's calm demeanor cracked, just slightly, as he realized this fight was far from over.
Siel could only watch, heart hammering.
"This… this isn't just Kurotsume," she whispered.
"This… is something else."
And somewhere in the deepest corners of his being, the Abyssal Revenant stirred, waiting for the moment of full awakening.