The oppressive gloom of Chamber Seven pressed down like a physical weight, thick with the stench of ozone, scorched shadow-stone, and the coppery tang of blood – Merus's cerulean blood, Kuro's, Kagaya's crimson, and Shirou's own. The cataclysmic echo of Shirou's last, desperate shot still vibrated in the fractured air, the shattered obsidian spires groaning as settling dust rained down. Kokuto stood amidst the devastation, Void-Shear humming faintly in his grasp, the thin line smoldering across his jacket the only visible concession to Shirou's defiance. His crimson scarf hung unnaturally still.
"Nishizumi Shirou," Kokuto repeated, his voice calm, analytical, cutting through the ringing silence. He tilted his head, observing the battered sniper leaning heavily against the jagged rock, his rifle trembling but still aimed. "And you claim to be 'a man who never misses'. Is that a statement of fact," his eyes narrowed slightly, "or merely bravado to mask the trembling in your hands?"
Shirou forced a smirk, ignoring the searing pain in his dislocated shoulder and the warm trickle down his temple. "See for yourself, Swordwrath." He squeezed the trigger.
PING!
An emerald bullet, condensed fury, screamed across the chamber. Not aimed to kill, but a test, a statement. Kokuto didn't flinch. His free hand snapped up, palm open, faster than thought. The bullet impacted his palm with a sound like a pebble hitting granite. Green light flared and died instantly, snuffed out without a ripple in Kokuto's expression. He closed his fist, pulverizing the residual energy into harmless sparks that sizzled against the shadow-stone floor.
*Light work,* Shirou thought, the grim certainty settling like lead in his gut. *Pure kinetic deflection. Bullets are child's play to him.*
"Emerald Laser Beam!" Shirou roared, pouring his remaining strength into the rifle. A searing lance of pure photonic energy lanced out, aimed true for Kokuto's center mass.
Kokuto moved. Not with blinding speed, but with impossible, economical grace. He shifted his weight minutely, a subtle twist of his torso. The emerald beam passed through empty air where his heart had been a nanosecond before, scorching the shadow-stone wall behind him into bubbling slag.
FWOOM! FWOOM! FWOOM!
Shirou didn't hesitate. He fired again, and again, and again, cycling the rifle's overtaxed core. Emerald beams crisscrossed the chamber, painting jagged lines of incandescent destruction across walls and floor, shattering smaller spires. Kokuto flowed between them like smoke. A sidestep here, a slight lean there, a pivot on the ball of his foot. He didn't block, didn't parry. He simply... wasn't there when the beams arrived. His movements were a chilling ballet of evasion, effortless, almost bored. He watched Shirou, not the beams, his crimson scarf the only constant in the strobing chaos.
*Effortless. Like swatting flies. He's reading my intent, my micro-tremors, the rifle's whine... Predicting the trajectory before I even finish pulling the trigger.* The realization was a cold knife in Shirou's resolve. His unerring aim meant nothing against a foe who existed half a step ahead of reality itself.
Kokuto was entirely focused on the emerald storm, his analytical mind dissecting Shirou's patterns, the rifle's charge cycle, the growing strain in the sniper's stance. He didn't see the mountain move.
From the swirling dust and shadow near Merus's prone form, Kagaya erupted. Not the battered giant, but Beast State Kagaya. Tribal markings blazed emerald fire across his skin, muscles swelling further, tearing remnants of his tunic. A bestial roar tore from his throat, raw and primal, shaking the chamber. He moved with terrifying speed for his size, a blur of emerald light and raw fury, fist cocked back like a siege engine.
CRUNCH-OOOOM!
The punch connected with Kokuto's jaw with the force of a meteor impact. The sound wasn't just bone meeting fist; it was the shockwave of displaced air cracking stone. Kokuto's head snapped sideways, a spray of dark blood – shockingly mundane against his divine aura – arcing through the air. His eyes widened in genuine surprise, the detached calm shattered. He hit the shadow-stone floor hard, skidding backwards, carving a deep furrow before slamming into a jagged obsidian outcrop. Dust plumed.
Shirou stared, momentarily stunned. *He bleeds. He can be hit.*
Kagaya stood over the impact crater, chest heaving, emerald aura flickering erratically. "GOTCHA, YOU FANCY SWORDSMAN!" he bellowed, the triumph raw in his voice.
Kokuto pushed himself up slowly, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. He looked at the crimson smear, then at Kagaya, a spark of something dangerous igniting in his depthless eyes. Not rage, but... respect mixed with lethal focus. "That," he acknowledged, his voice slightly slurred but chillingly calm, "was truly a nice one." He spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor.
Kagaya grinned savagely. "JUST THE START, BAST—"
Kokuto vanished. Not with speed, but with a spatial shhk. He reappeared directly in front of Kagaya, Void-Shear a blur of darkness. The blade didn't slash; it punched forward, point-first, driven with piston-like force.
SCHLICK!
The sound was wet, final. Void-Shear plunged deep into Kagaya's stomach, just below the ribcage. Kagaya's roar choked into a wet gasp. His eyes bulged, the emerald fire in his markings guttering violently. Kokuto twisted the blade savagely and ripped it upwards.
Kagaya stumbled back, clutching his stomach. Dark crimson blood, shockingly vivid against the emerald light and gloom, welled between his fingers, then spilled freely, soaking his pants, pooling rapidly on the shadow-stone. He sank to his knees, a low, guttural moan escaping him.
Shirou saw his opening. Kokuto was turned, focused on Kagaya, momentarily vulnerable. "THAT'S WHY YOU SHOULDN'T GET DISTRACTED!" Shirou screamed, raw fury overriding despair. He fired his most powerful blast yet, the rifle shrieking as it channeled every last joule. The emerald beam, thicker, brighter, hotter than before, struck Kokuto squarely between the shoulder blades.
KRA-BOOM!
Light engulfed Kokuto. Shirou held the trigger, pouring everything into it, the recoil threatening to shatter his injured arm. *Burn! Vaporize! Be gone!*
The light faded. Smoke curled from Kokuto's jacket, the fabric scorched and blackened. He turned slowly, deliberately, to face Shirou. Aside from the smoldering jacket and a faint reddening on the skin beneath, he was unharmed. He brushed absently at his shoulder.
Shirou's rifle clattered from numb fingers. He stared, disbelief freezing his blood. *Nothing. Even point-blank, full power... nothing.* The foundation of his identity – the unerring shot, the decisive blow – crumbled to dust. Despair, cold and absolute, washed over him. He sagged against the rock.
Kokuto regarded him, the dangerous spark in his eyes replaced by that familiar, chilling detachment. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But a fight that's not a 1v1... it lacks purity. It becomes noise." He took a step towards Shirou, Void-Shear dripping Kagaya's blood. "I prefer a man-to-man duel. A contest of singular skill and resolve."
"THEN FIGHT ME!" Kagaya rasped, the words bubbling through blood. He surged upwards with a surge of insane willpower, ignoring the horrific wound, swinging a massive, clumsy fist.
Kokuto moved with contemptuous ease. Void-Shear flashed – a horizontal blur aimed to decapitate. Kagaya, fueled by sheer instinct and agony, threw himself backwards. The blade whistled past, missing his throat by millimeters but opening a deep, bleeding gash across his collarbone. He crashed back down, coughing blood.
Kokuto didn't pause. A swift, piston-kick caught Kagaya in the ribs, lifting the massive warrior off his feet and hurling him across the chamber. He slammed into the lower wall with bone-jarring force, crumbling into a broken heap amidst the rubble, unmoving save for shallow, ragged breaths.
Kokuto turned back to Shirou, who hadn't moved, hadn't retrieved his rifle. He stood frozen, staring at Kagaya's broken form. "Why aren't you firing at me?" Kokuto asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. He gestured around. "I offered you openings. Many."
Shirou's voice was flat, hollow. "Because my strongest laser did nothing." He looked down at his trembling hands. "Pointless."
Kokuto tilted his head. "I thought you might say it was out of respect for my request. A warrior's etiquette. But oh well..." He took another step closer, Void-Shear rising slightly.
Shirou met his gaze, a spark of defiance flickering in the emptiness. "I don't actually care about a warrior's etiquette or honor, Kokuto. I never have." He forced the words out, clinging to the mercenary creed that had defined him. "I'm a simple sniper. I look for money. Dust. That's the contract. So I don't care about anyone other than myself. Not him," he nodded towards Kagaya, "not the god," a jerk of his chin towards Merus, "and certainly not the Trascender locked away. Just me. My survival. My payday."
Kokuto stopped, a flicker of something akin to disappointment crossing his impassive features. "Then I guess we're the exact opposite." He held Shirou's gaze, the abyss in his eyes seeming to deepen. "A mercenary soul, adrift without cause... facing a blade forged for a master's purpose." He raised Void-Shear, the tip pointing at Shirou's heart. "If you so easily surrender your will... then I must fulfill my duty swiftly. For Lord Saganbo's sake." He took a final step, entering striking distance. "If the choice were mine... I would spare you. A warrior who has lost his cause is like a lost child. But duty binds me."
Shirou closed his eyes. *This is it. End of the contract. End of Nishizumi Shirou. Should have demanded more Dust...* He braced for the cold kiss of the void-blade.
"WON'T YOU GET IT?!"
The ragged scream tore through the chamber. Kagaya, impossibly, had dragged himself forward, leaving a smeared trail of blood. One massive hand clamped around Kokuto's ankle with bone-crushing force. "IT'S NOT FUTILE!" Blood frothed at his lips, his eyes blazing with fading emerald fire. "WE'RE DIFFERENT... I GET IT... HOWEVER... WE HAVE THE SAME OBJECTIVE... DON'T WE?!" He gasped, sucking in a wet, painful breath. "WE HAVE TO SAVE THE TRASCENDER... IN OTHER WORDS... SAVE THE MULTIVERSE... I WILL RISK MY LIFE DOING SO! SO WHY... WON'T YOU... AS WELL?!"
Kokuto looked down at the broken titan clinging to his leg, his expression unreadable. "Move your hand," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
Kagaya just tightened his grip, his knuckles white, his arm trembling with the effort. His eyes locked onto Kokuto's, pleading, demanding. "SAVE... THEM..."
Kokuto sighed, a sound like wind over a grave. "You are... rather admirable." Then, without hesitation, Void-Shear flashed down.
SHINK!
Kagaya's hand, severed cleanly at the wrist, thudded to the floor. Blood fountained from the stump. Kagaya screamed, a raw, animal sound of agony, collapsing onto his side, clutching the maimed arm, his breath coming in ragged, wet sobs.
"I'll return for you later," Kokuto said dispassionately, stepping over the twitching hand. "If you still live." He turned his full attention back to Shirou, raising the bloodied blade. "Now. For the mercenary."
Shirou watched Kagaya writhe, heard his choked screams, saw the pool of blood spreading. The hollow despair warred with a sickening wave of shame. *He lost a hand... for me? For a payday?* Images flashed – Kagaya roaring defiance, Merus shielding them, Shinji's determined face... and his own rifle, always pointed, always for hire. *Who... who am I?*
Kokuto took the final step, Void-Shear poised for the killing thrust.
A blur of cerulean and white intercepted.
THUD-WHAM!
Merus, a broken god fueled by desperation, slammed a kick powered by stolen speed into Kokuto's side. The impact was solid, knocking Kokuto back a pace, surprise flickering across his face.
"SHIROU!" Merus gasped, swaying on his feet, blood streaming from his vertical chest wound, his face pale as death. "What are you doing?! I gave you a mission! Why aren't you executing?!" His voice was a raw scrape, filled with divine anguish.
Shirou stared at the dying god defending him. "There's no point!" he yelled back, the words tasting like ash. "I'm not doing anything to him! My shots are worthless! My will... it's gone! I fight for Dust, Merus! DUST! Not causes! Not multiverses!"
Merus's cerulean eyes blazed with furious light. "Then FIGHT FOR YOURSELF! FIGHT TO LIVE!" His body shimmered violently. His short white hair blazed into snow-white hair. A White Ring of Speed, unstable and flickering, erupted around his torso – the stolen power of Daganu, pushed beyond its limits. "REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE!"
With a cry that tore at his wounded throat, Merus launched himself at Kokuto. His movements were a blur of white light, unnaturally fast but strained, tearing at his divine essence. PING! PING! PING! PING! He unleashed a barrage of white Light Bullets, miniature singularities screaming through the air, each aimed with divine precision at Kokuto's vital points.
Kokuto's eyes widened. "Daganu's speed and abilities?" He brought Void-Shear up in a blinding defensive pattern. CLANG! CLANG! SCHLICK! He deflected two bullets, the impacts ringing like bells, but the third grazed his shoulder, tearing fabric and drawing a line of dark blood. The fourth slammed into his thigh, staggering him, a grunt escaping his lips. He hadn't expected this resurgence, this stolen power wielded by a dying god.
Merus pressed, a white storm of relentless fire. Kokuto blocked, parried, dodged, but the sheer speed and ferocity forced him back. He took another hit on his forearm, the dark blood welling. He was being driven towards the chamber wall.
A snarl of pure frustration twisted Kokuto's lips. "Enough!" Void-Shear ignited with void-black energy. He didn't slash at Merus; he slashed at the space in front of him.
Kkkrrrzzzaaaak!
Reality tore open like rotten fabric, a jagged gash of pure nothingness ripping towards Merus. The God of Creation twisted desperately, the unstable White Ring flaring, but the spatial tear caught the edge of his white aura. RIIIIP! The White Ring shattered like glass. The stolen speed vanished. Merus cried out, tumbling through the air, his divine light dimming.
Kokuto was on him instantly, a spatial-step closing the distance. Void-Shear, no longer humming but screaming with contained power, lashed out in a vicious horizontal arc aimed at Merus's neck.
Merus threw himself sideways. The blade missed his throat but sliced deep across his chest, reopening the vertical wound with brutal efficiency. Cerulean blood sprayed. Merus crashed to the floor, skidding, his snow-white hair bleaching back to normal white instantly, the last vestiges of stolen power gone. He lay gasping, eyes fluttering, on the very edge of oblivion.
Kokuto stood over him, breathing quite heavily for the first time, dark blood dripping from multiple wounds onto the shadow-stone. He raised a fist, not the blade, aiming to crush Merus's skull and end the divine interference permanently.
"Shirou..." Merus gasped, blood bubbling on his lips. His dimming eyes found the frozen sniper. "Remember... you can't... just lose hope... like that..." Each word was a struggle. "You can be... who you truly are... Move... forward!" His hand, slick with blood, twitched towards Shirou before falling limp. His eyes closed.
Kokuto's fist descended.
THOOM!
It connected with Merus's stomach, a final, brutal punctuation. The God of Creation went utterly still.
Kokuto straightened, wiping blood from his brow with the back of his hand. He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto Shirou, who stood frozen, Merus's final words echoing in the sudden, terrible silence.
"It's easy for him to say that, Merus," Shirou whispered, his voice raw. He looked down at his empty hands, then at Kagaya's broken form, Merus's still body, Kuro's unmoving shape. "I don't care about anyone but myself..." The words felt like a lie, a shield cracking under the weight of sacrifice he hadn't asked for but had been given.
Kokuto approached, Void-Shear dripping a gruesome cocktail of bloods. "Nishizumi Shirou..." he began, his tone carrying a strange mix of weariness and finality.
Shirou's head snapped up. He wasn't looking at his rifle on the floor. He was staring straight at Kokuto, and a slow, terrifying smile spread across his bloodied face. It wasn't the smirk of the mercenary. It was the fierce, predatory grin of a cornered wolf finding its fangs.
"I actually find it pleasuring..." Shirou said, his voice low, dangerous, vibrating with a newfound intensity. "When I kill bastards like you..." He took a step forward, his posture shifting, no longer slumped in defeat, but coiled like a spring. "For the sake of myself."
Kokuto paused, a flicker of surprise, almost distaste, crossing his features. "What a barbarian way of thinking."
Shirou threw his head back and laughed. It wasn't hysterical; it was deep, resonant, filled with a dark, liberating joy that echoed off the shattered spires. He laughed until tears mixed with the blood on his cheeks.
He stopped laughing abruptly, the smile vanishing, replaced by an expression of chilling focus. His eyes locked onto Kokuto's. "Barbarian?" he repeated, the word a whip-crack. "Fine by me!" He slammed a fist against his own chest, ignoring the flare of pain. "I truly forgot what I'm cut for!"
As he spoke, a change occurred. Not in his body, but in his eyes. The vibrant red irises, the mark of the Money Hunter, began to glow. Not just with reflected light, but with an internal, fierce luminescence. Swirling motes of brilliant, golden Dust – not Space Dust, but the essence of it, the pure potential he chased – ignited within the red. The red and gold swirled, clashed, and then stabilized. His eyes were now split vertically: the left half a burning, determined red, the right half a blazing, focused gold. They glowed like twin beacons in the gloom.
"My true essence," Shirou declared, his voice ringing with absolute conviction, cutting through the despair, "is to ALWAYS find a way to go through things!" He raised his hands, not towards his rifle, but palms facing Kokuto. Between them, energy coalesced – not emerald, but a deep, thrumming purple. It swirled, forming not a beam, but a complex, double-circle sigil of pure power, etched in crackling violet light. It hummed with an unfamiliar, potent frequency that made the very air vibrate.
Kokuto's eyes widened, genuine shock erasing his usual detachment. He felt it – the shift, the raw, unrefined potential igniting into something new, something dangerous. He didn't hesitate. He gripped Void-Shear with both hands, pouring his own formidable energy into the blade, bracing himself not to dodge, but to block. The spatial edge around the blade flared violently.
Shirou thrust his palms forward. "PURPLE NEXUS: ANNIHILATION CHANNEL!"
The double-circle sigil didn't fire a beam. It unfolded. It became a tunnel, a conduit of pure, destructive violet energy, screaming across the short distance with impossible speed. It wasn't light; it was concentrated will, the unerring shot redefined, powered by the fusion of Shirou's mercenary resolve and the desperate need to survive, to overcome.
Kokuto met it with Void-Shear held crosswise, a barrier of spatial severance and divine steel. The violet conduit slammed into the blade.
KRA-KOOOOOOM!!!!
The impact wasn't an explosion; it was a detonation of reality. Violet light and spatial shrapnel filled Chamber Seven. The very foundations of the Labyrinth screamed. Kokuto, the Swordwrath Monarch, was engulfed, not just in light, but in the roaring fury of Nishizumi Shirou's awakened essence. The unerring shot had found a new target: oblivion itself.