"..."
Kojou stood calmly, unfazed by the defiant glares of the prisoners, each of whom was an incredibly powerful criminal who had nearly dominated their era, with a pride to match.
And those who were unsure of their ability to win tried to slip away quietly, but the space around the Prison Barrier was completely sealed by the Meyer Sisters, who were using Grimoire Number 539 to lock the space entirely. No one could enter or leave, not even Natsuki, known as the Witch of the Void.
But not everyone was a fool, letting arrogance cloud their judgment. They all knew that defeating Kojou was impossible, even if they banded together—so they stepped aside, just as he had ordered.
Escaping this place was the priority; then they'd have time to think about what to do next.
When the four strongest among them fell back in silence, a faint, satisfied smile spread across Kojou's face. He had doubted anyone would comply, and had fully intended to kill them all—except Aya—if no one accepted the chance he offered.
Kojou stared at them with cold eyes, then spoke in a low, final tone:
"Then... time's up."
In that moment, the change began.
His silver hair—long a mark of his fate—began to take on a golden radiance, shining like lightning tearing through the sky. His eyes ignited with a deep crimson, like blood that had never dried, and a silver mask formed over half his face, as if a different soul had possessed him.
Golden lightning surged around his sculpted body, a dance of power that no longer belonged to humanity.
Buzz!
The sound of electricity shredding the air.
Boom!
In the blink of an eye, he vanished.
"Where—?!"
They didn't have time to finish their shock.
The first body shattered.
With a single punch.
A creature who had been a fierce human just moments ago became a grotesque lump of pulverized flesh beneath Kojou's golden fist.
Blood splattered, and the hall trembled.
One prisoner screamed:
"Impossible! How can he move this fast—?!"
Another stumbled back: "He's a demon… no—something worse than a demon!"
Kojou stood over the first corpse, his hands glowing with a dark energy wrapped in holy light. He raised his head and looked at all the terrified eyes, speaking with the icy tone of Death himself, announcing the start of the harvest:
"When I ordered you to stand down... I was showing undeserved mercy. Now—there will be no more chances."
In that moment, even the air seemed to grow thick with the weight of fear.
The faces that once held defiance now wore nothing but raw terror, some stepping back on instinct... but to where? There was no escape from a space sealed by dimensional locks.
And yet, not all of them surrendered to dread.
Two massive figures stepped forward—one wielding a magical warhammer capable of breaking reality, the other a blazing blade filled with the screams of thousands. The Gun of Pain and Silence—that's what they called it.
"If we're going to die, then let's die fighting...!"
said the one with the blade, courage mingled with despair in his voice.
"At least... we can drag a piece of him to hell with us!"
But...
Kojou only smiled.
A venomous smile, silent mockery of their belated resolve.
Swish!
He vanished again, but this time, golden lightning remained in his place.
Snap—Rip!
Suddenly, a horrifying, sickening sound of tearing flesh and bone echoed. Before their horrified eyes, the two who had just stepped forward lost their heads—nothing but headless corpses remained, blood fountaining upward.
The droplets barely reached the floor... before they evaporated from the heat of the golden lightning crackling off his body.
The entire chamber trembled—not from shock... but from hopelessness.
"How...?!" cried one of the prisoners, eyes wide at the unfathomable sight.
The heads had vanished—without a trace—as if a blade of light had sliced through them in a moment too fast for their eyes.
For an instant, they no longer saw a human being, or even a vampire... but an angry celestial, the embodiment of every crime committed here—descended to deliver retribution.
Kojou hadn't moved a single step after that. His glowing body wrapped in a halo of savage golden lightning, and his face covered by a half-silver mask, made reality itself seem afraid to draw near.
He raised his right hand, slowly, as if commanding the world itself to obey. Silence followed—an ominous, suffocating stillness—the kind that lives in the heart of a storm, moments before it swallows all.
"There is no room for regret now."
He spoke with a voice that seemed to emerge from the core of an electrical tempest—charged with both sin and sanctity.
"Show me that dignity... by dying on your feet."
Before the words were even finished, one of them fell.
No one saw how he was struck... they only heard the echo of air exploding...
Then—Crack!
His chest caved in completely... golden lightning shot through his heart like divine judgment.
Another fell, and the blows did not stop.
Kojou was no longer moving like a man. He became lines of living power—appearing and disappearing—killing... and killing... and killing.
"This isn't a battle... it's slaughter. A sacred slaughter."
One of the prisoners collapsed onto the floor, scrambling backward, screaming:
"We made a mistake! We should've killed him back when he was just a boy!!"
But no one listened.
No one could listen.
Because in this place, there was only one sound left...
The sound of winds torn by storms.
And the sound of wicked bodies being broken beneath the justice of golden thunder.
At the top of the hall... Aya sat motionless—no fear, no turmoil—just eyes that followed the dance of light and shadow with a deadly calm.
"So this is... the Fourth Primogenitor..."
she whispered, as though narrating a legend waiting to be written...
...a killer not born to rule... but to purify.
As she thought of how her daughter had tried to steal this boy's body to free her, Aya could not help but glance at Yuuma, who had turned away, her face pale as paper.
In contrast, Natsuki stood firm, watching everything unfold with silent resolve. He was doing all this for her, and it was her responsibility to witness it to the very end.
And so, the place once filled with screams of fury and death... slowly fell into silence, until it was silent—completely.
...
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