In a dark void where no sound could be heard except the faint heartbeat of the hidden world, Musayuki stood—draped in his long black cloak, his eyes calmly scanning the emptiness.
Before him appeared the demonic commander—massive in stature, his skin resembling blackened metal, with two horns twisting like frozen fiery clouds.
"You're my opponent?" the commander asked, a mocking grin cutting across his face.
Musayuki didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out a small stringed instrument, sat on a floating rock in the void, and began to play.
The commander laughed.
"Do you think this is the time for music?!"
He charged forward, each step shaking the very ground beneath them.
But the moment he drew near—he stopped.
Something was wrong.
His breath caught in his throat. He looked at his hand… and saw it slowly disintegrating.
"What…?!"
Musayuki raised his gaze to meet his, speaking in a calm tone.
"Every note I play… rearranges the particles of your body."
The enemy screamed, yet forced himself to move forward once more.
Musayuki didn't move. He kept playing—smiling faintly, note after note.
Every strike the commander attempted failed to reach him… as if the air itself refused to let him approach.
"Stop this! Fight me like a warrior!" the commander roared.
"I'm not fighting," Musayuki replied. "I'm composing your end."
With each note, the commander's body broke down further—his first eye burst, his arm began to decay, until at last, he could no longer move at all.
Musayuki stood, walked toward him, and placed a finger on his forehead.
"I thought you'd be a worthy opponent… but you're nothing but an echo. Farewell."
He played one final note.
The enemy crumbled into gray dust, vanishing with the first breath of wind that passed through the void.
Musayuki sat down once more, tightening the strings of his instrument.
"I needed some practice for this new composition… at least I wasn't bored."
End of Chapter Forty-Five.