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The Netherworld. A realm that existed between life and death. A layered dimension built upon souls.
Rama appeared within one of those layers.
It was a desolate island—no people, no vegetation—just crashing waves against jagged rock and hardened cliffs.
He looked around for a moment, seemingly satisfied with the place. Then he turned toward Ryo, who had followed him in.
"Here," he said simply.
"In a place like this, as long as we avoid techniques that rip through dimensions, even if this entire layer collapses, the human world won't be affected."
Of course, that also meant Ryo couldn't freely use any space-related abilities here.
Rama wasn't sure if Ryo actually had that kind of power, but if he did, this battlefield clearly favored Rama. At least, Ryo didn't know the Netherworld as intimately as he did.
Thinking that, Rama gave a little smile. "Forgive me, Ryo Yagami. But your very existence is already shaking the order of this world. As the King of End, I'm forced to fight you."
"You're an interesting one," Ryo said, stopping midair with a faintly amused look.
"Apologizing and saying you are forced, yet you're clearly setting up a battlefield that favors you. What's wrong—feeling guilty you can't fight me on equal footing?"
Rama opened his mouth, then chuckled quietly. "So my enemy knows me better than I do?"
"Cut the act."
Ryo smirked. "You think you've got the upper hand? Wrong. Dead wrong."
Silver-white light erupted around him, pulsing and shifting until it burned with a bewitching violet hue.
"The one with the real advantage here... is me."
"Is that so?"
Rama raised an eyebrow, his divine blade morphing into a radiant golden longbow.
He gripped it firmly, drawing the string back as divine light shimmered along the frame.
"This bow," Rama said solemnly, "once belonged to Hou Yi—legend says he shot down nine suns with it. The original was lost, but with the power I now carry, the blessing of all the gods, I might not be able to destroy the sun anymore. Still, I can shatter a star."
He paused, his voice steady but grave. "So, don't die too easily, Ryo Yagami."
"Starting off with your strongest move already?"
Ryo arched an eyebrow. The light around him flared even brighter.
"Fine. Let's see if you can actually kill me."
Rama said nothing more. He focused, pulling the string to its fullest.
A golden arrow of lightning materialized, humming with dense, destructive energy. The longer he drew, the more terrifying its power became—compressing, vibrating, ready to burst.
Archery had always been the pride of the Hindu heroes, and Rama was no exception.
Ignoring the strain on his bow, he loosed the arrow. The golden shot turned into a blazing meteor and tore through the air toward Ryo.
It struck him squarely in the chest.... And then—passed straight through.
"What? A decoy?!"
Rama's eyes widened in disbelief.
That righteous, unflinching man from a moment ago... was just a projection.
He'd been expecting Ryo to stand his ground and take the hit head-on—but instead, he'd been tricked.
"Your mistake."
A cold voice came from behind.
A spiral of violet energy exploded, slamming into Rama's back.
Sekishiki Meikai Ha (Praesepe Underworld Waves).
The signature technique of the Cancer Gold Saint struck Rama full-on.
"Damn it—!"
Rama shouted as the blast hit, but to his surprise, he didn't feel any real pain.
"What's going on?"
He looked up toward where the attack had come from—Ryo stood there calmly, a flickering blue-white flame burning in his palm.
Was that attack a failure? Rama wondered, raising his divine blade again.
From the blade's mandala, countless weapons emerged, transforming into golden bolts of lightning.
With a sweep of his arm, Rama unleashed ten thousand lightning arrows at once.
But before they reached him, Ryo smiled faintly. "This one's called Sekishiki Kisōen—the Praesepe Demonic Blue Flames."
The blue-white fire crawled up Ryo's arm, and in the next instant, he swung his fist.
Tens of thousands of punches flashed like beams of light, each one smashing through a lightning arrow midair.
Every shot Rama fired was obliterated—and yet, somehow, he screamed in agony.
"AAAHHHHHHH!"
He fell to one knee, clutching his head as if it were splitting apart.
From his divine blade, a translucent figure began to emerge—a man with brown skin and sorrowful eyes.
It was Rama's younger brother, Lakshmana, who bore the burden of protecting Rama from divine madness.
"Brother! What's happening to you?!" Lakshmana cried, half his spirit-body rising from the weapon.
"AAAAHHHH—!"
Rama's scream only grew louder.
Lakshmana turned, eyes blazing with fury, staring at Ryo and the flame in his hand.
"You... you wretch!" he shouted, trembling. "You're burning my brother's soul instead of fighting him?! How could you stoop so low?! Have you no honor as a warrior?!"
Ryo tilted his head and squeezed the flickering flame tighter—the same flame that held Rama's soul.
"Well, technically," he said lightly, "this attack works by burning my opponent's soul."
Sekishiki Kisoen (Praesepe Demonic Blue Flames).
The very technique Athena's reincarnation, Sasha, had once called "the most vile of them all."
It dragged the enemy's soul out through the Sekishiki Meikai Ha, then fought by igniting that very soul as fuel.
Against immortal foes, it was devastating. After all, very few immortals could make their souls immortal.
Burning the soul was one of the few ways to truly harm such beings.
Sure, using a move like this was... pretty despicable. Anyone who fought a Cancer Gold Saint had to be wary of it—because if they weren't careful, they'd end up battling while their very soul was being burned alive.
And the stronger the technique the Cancer Saint used, the more intensely the enemy's soul would burn.
That was why Sasha had called it a "shameless technique that forces your enemy to fight with their own lifespan," and one of the cruelest golden arts ever created.
But against Rama... it worked beautifully.
"You... you vile bastard!"
Lakshmana's ghostly form trembled with rage.
Burning his brother's soul and fighting with it—how could anyone be so shameless?
And then to brag about it like it was nothing?!
Did this man even know what shame was?
"You coward! If you had any pride, you'd—"
"Enough."
Rama's sharp voice cut him off, silencing his brother.
"Brother?" Lakshmana looked at him, worried.
Rama, still trembling, forced himself to stand. His face was pale, his body weak, but his eyes burned with calm clarity.
"So that's it," he said hoarsely. "You're using that technique to strip away my immortality. Dishonorable, perhaps... but a smart move."
"Dishonorable?" Ryo smiled faintly, his tone light and teasing. "I prefer to call it a tactical victory."
"You—!" Lakshmana's spectral form twisted with rage, nearly flickering out from sheer anger.
Rama wiped the saliva from his mouth—he'd lost control of his body during the scream, drool streaking his chin.
He straightened himself, once again summoning his divine bow.
"Come then," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's continue our duel."
"Oh?"
Ryo eyed him with genuine admiration. "Not bad. You've got guts."
"Then I'll honor that spirit," he added with a grin, the blue-white flame flaring brighter. "This time, I'll use something even stronger."
"Stronger—?" Rama's heartbeat faltered.
For the first time in his life, he felt it—a flicker of fear.
Because fighting someone who was burning your soul as they fought you...wasn't a fight you could win.
.
.
.