The air around them vibrated with the intense energy from Sukojo's Domain Verse. The chaos was palpable, thick with power as the molten Ryo Lava dripped from every corner of the shattered reality, searing through the ground, through time itself. Everything was consumed by Sukojo's chaos, the once peaceful space now a volatile battleground.
Agami stood firm amidst the destruction, the white aura around him pushing back the chaos, his eyes focused and unwavering. He could feel it—the power, the endless force that Sukojo wielded. But he wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
Sukojo's laughter echoed across the darkened sky, his grin growing wider as he observed the destruction around him.
Sukojo: Do you see now, Agami? This is the true nature of power—chaos, destruction, an endless void where only the strong survive!
Agami's gaze never wavered, his presence steady against the storm.
Agami: You talk too much, Sukojo.
Agami's aura surged, exploding outwards with a blinding light. The sheer force of his energy made the ground beneath them tremble. For a moment, the chaos seemed to halt, as if even the universe itself was forced to acknowledge his power.
Agami: You've played your part long enough. It's time for you to leave.
Sukojo's eyes narrowed, his grin faltering slightly.
Sukojo: Hmph. You think you can kill me? I am the Devourer of All. No one has ever—!
Agami didn't let him finish. With a sudden, fluid motion, Agami raised his hand, pointing directly at Sukojo.
Agami: Severance.
In an instant, the light around Agami coalesced into a sharp beam, pure and unrelenting, cutting through the chaos like a knife through fabric. The light struck Sukojo with such force that the entire landscape shuddered. The earth cracked, the very sky seemed to scream, and Sukojo's body erupted into a violent explosion of energy.
For a moment, there was silence. The chaos stopped, the molten lava freezing in place as though time itself had been halted. Agami watched, his eyes narrowed, waiting for the inevitable.
Sukojo's body began to disintegrate, the particles of his existence pulled apart by the sheer force of Agami's power. His laughter had faded, replaced by a deep, guttural groan as his form was torn apart, piece by piece.
Sukojo: (growling) You... think this... ends me? I cannot die... I will—
Agami's eyes flashed with cold resolve.
Agami: You're wrong, Sukojo. You can die. And today, you will.
With a flick of his wrist, Agami summoned a portal—a swirling black void that hummed with ancient energy. This was no ordinary portal. This was the Prison Gate, the only realm capable of holding a being like Sukojo. It was a place where time, space, and existence meant nothing. Once inside, no one could escape.
Agami stepped forward, his aura flaring once more as he reached out, grabbing what remained of Sukojo's soul. With a single motion, he flung the remnants of Sukojo's essence into the Prison Gate. The portal closed behind him, sealing Sukojo's soul within the timeless prison.
Agami: Rest there... until the universe forgets your name.
Agami turned to leave, his work seemingly done. But as he glanced back, his eyes widened slightly.
Agami: (thinking) His body...
Sukojo's physical body lay on the ground, still intact, though motionless. In the chaos of the battle, Agami had forgotten to send it into the Prison Gate along with his soul. His form should have decayed along with his soul—but it didn't.
Agami frowned, turning back to correct his mistake, but when he returned to the spot where Sukojo's body had fallen, it was gone.
Agami: (thinking) Who took it? Where...?
The scene shifted, fading away from the chaotic battlefield, the molten lava and shattered realities dissolving into the darkness. Agami stared at the empty space where Sukojo's body had been, suspicion creeping into his mind. Someone had taken it. But who? And for what purpose?
The scene transitioned to Tier's home, where everything seemed peaceful and still. Night had fallen, and inside the modest house, Leona, Tier, and Cron were all fast asleep, their minds finally at rest after the relentless battles they had faced. The tension of the previous hours had drained them completely, leaving only silence in their wake.
The camera panned to Dark's room. He lay sprawled on his bed, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. The dim light from the moon filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over his battered body.
Dark's only clothing was a pair of simple underwear, his muscular frame covered in dried blood, deep cuts, and bruises. His skin bore the marks of the battle he had fought earlier, the toll it had taken on him clear. Each breath was heavy, his body still struggling to recover from the injuries. Slowly, the wounds began to heal, the cuts sealing themselves, though it was a long process.
The room was quiet, the stillness almost eerie.
Dark's body remained motionless, though his mind stirred with nightmares. Flashes of Sukojo's chaos, the overwhelming power of his enemies, and the weight of the responsibility he carried. His fingers twitched slightly, his brow furrowed in discomfort, but he did not wake.
The camera lingered on him for a moment, emphasizing the scars, both physical and mental, that he had endured.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a soft sound—almost like a whisper. Something stirred in the shadows. The air around Dark's room felt heavier, like a presence had entered, though nothing could be seen.
Dark's room was eerily quiet. The dim light flickered faintly from the lantern near his bed, casting long shadows that twisted and danced across the room. Dark, lying on his back, his body still battered and bruised, drifted in and out of consciousness. His breath was shallow, each intake a reminder of the pain still coursing through him from the earlier battle. His mind was clouded, trying to shake the dark nightmares that plagued him since the fight ended.
But something was wrong.
Even in his weakened state, Dark felt it—the atmosphere had changed, thickened. The air, once still, now carried a weight of something unknown, something sinister.
He slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurry at first, but the outline of a figure by the far corner of the room quickly sharpened. His heart skipped a beat.
It was a body, standing upright in the corner, completely still.
Dark's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, his instincts screaming at him that something wasn't right. The figure was unmistakable. It was Sukojo's body. His hands hung lifelessly at his sides, his face blank, eyes closed. But there was something unnatural about the way it stood—silent, immobile, like a puppet without strings.
Dark: (whispering, his voice shaky) No... this can't be real...
Sukojo had been killed. Dark had seen it. Agami had erased him from existence. Yet here he stood.
Dark's muscles tensed, despite his injuries. His first instinct was to run, but he couldn't move. Fear had him rooted to the spot. His heart pounded louder in his chest, and cold sweat trickled down his temples.
Suddenly, the body shifted. Not in the way a person moves—but with slow, mechanical precision, as though it were being controlled by something unseen. Sukojo's lifeless body moved towards the small desk in Dark's room. Each step was unsettling, the sound of his feet dragging slightly against the floor. It was as if every part of Sukojo's body was resisting movement, yet it was being forced to act.
Dark: (thinking, panicking) What... what the hell is this?!
Dark tried to speak, but his voice wouldn't come out. His throat tightened. Sukojo's body, without a soul, without life, reached the desk, its movements deliberate and slow. It grabbed a nearby book and a pencil, the eeriness of the situation only heightening the horror that gripped Dark's chest.
With agonizing slowness, the body began writing in the book. Dark watched, paralyzed, as the pencil scratched against the paper, forming words that made no sense in the moment. The tension in the room was suffocating.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the body stopped writing. It turned the book around, holding it out for Dark to see. His heart raced as his eyes scanned the words written in rough, shaky letters:
"I am in the Prison Gate. Keep my body with you. I am going to lose connection with my body soon. I am traveling at a speed Beyond Imaginary."
Dark's mind raced, trying to make sense of the message. The Prison Gate. That impossible place, where souls are trapped and unable to escape, was where Sukojo's soul was imprisoned. But his body... his body was here, still connected in some inexplicable way.
Dark: (thinking, heart pounding) Beyond Imaginary... What does that even mean?
His mind struggled to comprehend the last part. Beyond Imaginary—a speed that defied reality, that wasn't just fast, but something beyond the concept of speed itself. It wasn't about moving through space or time, but existing at multiple places simultaneously, in ways the mind couldn't grasp. Sukojo's soul, trapped in the Prison Gate, was moving at this unfathomable velocity, traversing dimensions and planes, slipping through existence itself.
Dark: (thinking, trying to calm down) He's... still out there. But this is just his body. Empty, soulless.
The realization was chilling. Dark had Sukojo's body here, but it was a shell. A vessel, waiting. And if what Sukojo had written was true, he would soon lose this connection, and Dark would be left with an empty, lifeless form. But why? Why keep his body? What purpose did it serve?
Dark finally managed to move, though every muscle in his body protested. He stood, shakily, and cautiously approached the body. Sukojo's face was blank, devoid of any expression, as though unaware of the world around him. Dark's breathing was heavy, his mind still reeling from the strangeness of it all.
He reached for the book again, reading the message over and over.
Dark: (whispering) What does he want me to do with his body...?
Before he could think of an answer, the body began to tremble slightly. Dark stepped back, alarmed. The connection was fading. Sukojo's presence—whatever faint connection there had been between his soul and body—was slipping away.
Dark watched as Sukojo's body went completely still again. The pencil slipped from its grasp and fell to the floor with a soft clatter. Then, as if the strings holding the puppet had been cut, Sukojo's body collapsed onto the floor, lifeless once more.
Dark stood over it, breathing heavily, his mind spinning.
Dark: (thinking) What the hell just happened? What am I supposed to do with this?
The atmosphere in the room remained tense. Dark had no answers, only more questions. But one thing was certain—whatever had just happened, it wasn't the end. Sukojo wasn't truly gone. Not yet.
And Dark would need to figure out what came next.
Explanation of Sukojo's Speed (Beyond Imaginary):
The "Beyond Imaginary" speed isn't simply a form of movement. It's a concept where a being transcends traditional notions of velocity. Sukojo's soul, trapped within it the Prison Gate, is moving through dimensions and realities, not by conventional means, but by existing in multiple states of being simultaneously. From Dark's perspective, it appears as though Sukojo can be anywhere at any time, without needing to travel. He exists "instantly" wherever he needs to be. This speed is not bound by any physical laws, making it impossible to track, understand, or counter. It's a form of movement that defies even time itself.
As Dark stared, the tension in the room thickened even more. Then, without warning, a sudden surge of immense power erupted outside the house, shaking the walls. Leona, Tier, Cron, and Gilmuar immediately rushed into Dark's room, their faces painted with a mixture of shock and fear.
Gilmuar: (urgently) Something's coming. Everyone stay behind me!
Without hesitation, Gilmuar raised a shimmering barrier around them all just as the house exploded outward with a violent force. The walls disintegrated, the roof vaporized into dust, leaving only the shimmering protection of Gilmuar's barrier keeping them safe. Outside the crumbled ruins, a dark silhouette stood tall against the smoking wreckage, the air heavy with his presence.
Kenzo Mahago had arrived.
Kenzo, The Hero That Became The Strongest Monster, stepped into view. His black suit was immaculate despite the chaos he'd just unleashed, and a wide-brimmed hat, reminiscent of old-world fashion, shadowed his scarred face. His eyes gleamed as they scanned the scene before him, but they lingered on Sukojo's lifeless body.
Kenzo: (with quiet menace) So... I finally found you.
His voice was deep, commanding, as if each word carried the weight of centuries. Kenzo took a step forward, and the ground trembled beneath his feet. His gaze moved toward Gilmuar, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Kenzo: Gilmuar, what are you doing? Why are you protecting them?
Gilmuar's stance shifted, his hand subtly tightening as his gaze met Kenzo's. There was something about this man, a familiarity that tugged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't place it.
Gilmuar: (firmly) They are my friends. My closest friends. I won't let you hurt them.
Kenzo raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the response. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his presence overwhelming as his shadow seemed to stretch across the ruined ground like a tangible force.
Kenzo: Your friends? Is that what you call them? How interesting. Tell me, do your friends know your real name? Do they know the family you come from?
Gilmuar's eyes widened at the mention of a family name, a name long buried in his past. The words struck like a hammer, resonating deep within him, dredging up memories he thought he had forgotten.
Gilmuar: (confused, defensive) What are you talking about?
Kenzo's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. His next words were quiet, yet they echoed through the ruins with chilling clarity.
Kenzo: Mahago. The Mahago family.
Gilmuar's breath caught in his throat, his fists clenching as he stepped back, his eyes now wide with shock and recognition. His whole body trembled as he processed the name—Mahago. His mouth opened, but no words came out, just a stunned silence.
Gilmuar: (in disbelief) You... You can't be... No. That's impossible.
Kenzo's smile remained fixed in place, but his eyes gleamed with cold intensity as he took another step forward, closing the distance between them. His presence was suffocating, a living force pressing down on everyone in the shattered remains of Tier's home.
Kenzo: (with a low, dark chuckle) Oh, but I am. I am Kenzo Mahago, your brother. The one you've forgotten. Or perhaps you've chosen to forget?
Gilmuar's shock quickly turned into anger. His hands balled into fists as he glared at Kenzo, shaking his head in denial.
Gilmuar: (angrily) You're lying! My brother is dead! You're not him!
Kenzo: (mocking) Oh, Gilmuar, still as naive as ever. It's been billions of years, yet you still don't understand, do you? I've been sealed away for eons, waiting, adapting. While you played hero with your little friends, I was becoming the strongest being in the cosmos. And now I'm back.
Gilmuar's voice wavered with uncertainty as he stared at the man before him. His anger clashed with a rising sense of dread, but he couldn't—he wouldn't—accept it.
Gilmuar: (gritting his teeth) No! You're a monster! You're not my brother!
Kenzo's expression darkened, and in an instant, his aura flared. The overwhelming power he held surged outward, causing the ground to crack beneath him. The force of it brought everyone to their knees except for Gilmuar, who stood his ground, though barely.
Kenzo: (coldly) Call me what you want, Gilmuar. But I am your brother. And I've come back to finish what we started.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of Gilmuar's ragged breathing and the ominous hum of Kenzo's energy. Leona, Tier, and Cron watched in silence, their bodies still trembling from the aftershock of Kenzo's power. Dark, who had been frozen in disbelief, finally found his voice.
Dark: (nervously) What... what do you want from us?
Kenzo's gaze shifted to Dark, his expression unreadable.
Kenzo: (smirking) Oh, you're not part of this, boy. My business is with Sukojo. His body and his soul... I've been waiting to destroy him for far too long.
Dark glanced at the lifeless body of Sukojo, still sitting against the wall, and then back to Kenzo. Something inside him shifted—a sense of impending doom—and he knew that whatever was coming next would be far worse than anything they had faced before.
Kenzo: (calmly) But first, I think I'll play a little game with all of you.
Without warning, Kenzo raised his hand, and a sudden explosion of dark energy erupted from his palm, obliterating the rest of the house in an instant. The force of it sent Dark, Leona, Tier, and Cron flying backward, crashing into the dirt. Only Gilmuar remained standing, his barrier barely holding up under the onslaught.
Kenzo: (laughing) Let's see how well you protect your friends now, little brother.
Gilmuar breathing heavily.
Gilmuar: (thinking) No way...there's no way I'm going to survive another attack....hes way too powerful.
Gilmuar: I'm way out of his league...
End of Arc 2 Chapter 12.