Reiji woke with his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum.
He needed no explanation.
He felt it—his student's soul echoing through the air, colliding against a presence… inhuman.
"Donyoku…" he whispered.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his katana and started running, crossing the remnants of a city without spirit. Ruins, empty streets, shattered gazes followed him. Humanity was dying… but someone—one person—was still fighting.
Miles away, atop the temple,
Shinsei Koji, the self-proclaimed God, unleashed his will with two blades that governed the rules of reality:
Fade and Rebuild.
Every slash erased logic.
Every motion rewove existence.
It was as if the universe bent to him without being asked.
But before him…
two boys refused to kneel.
Donyoku was gasping, his bandaged arm trembling.
Not from fear—
but from the weight of the impossible.
His Shinkon roared, amplifying his body, tightening every fiber like a bowstring on the verge of release.
His daggers didn't break—
they devoured.
Iwamaru stood at his side, wielding a massive black sword born from the fusion of his three Shinigami.
The blade vibrated with cursed symbols, with monstrous echoes, with the hunger of the dead.
They moved as if they had been born to fight together.
Donyoku struck fast and erratically.
Iwamaru countered with surgical precision, as if their souls shared a single objective: kill a God.
But Shinsei…
Shinsei did not fear.
His twin blades were absolute.
They destroyed with symphonic delicacy…
And rebuilt as if he toyed with the threads of destiny.
The ground trembled.
Walls dissolved.
Reality itself began to collapse…
And still…
two assassins fought on.
No miracles.
No blessings.
Only the will to make the impossible bleed.
And in the distance, sharp as a storm…
Reiji was closing in.
---
Shinsei Koji continued to sweep through existence as if the world were an error to be corrected.
With every step, reality cracked.
An entire country… was moments away from being erased.
All because of the stubborn defiance of two mere humans.
Donyoku was barely breathing.
His bandaged arm. His torn clothes.
Blood no longer streamed but dripped… as if even his own body had started to surrender.
Still, he didn't stop.
Iwamaru, beside him, was wavering as well.
Tense muscles, exhausted Shinigami, a soul on the verge of shattering.
A surgical warrior, elegant…
But even art has limits when the canvas is burning.
And before them,
Shinsei stood tall.
Silent. Empty. Unstoppable.
Inside,
fanaticism consumed him.
And the will of the Artificial God he once sought to absorb…
was now beginning to absorb him.
He was becoming something else.
Something nameless.
Something without consciousness.
Donyoku managed to land several consecutive blows, his Shinkon glowing with despair.
And for a heartbeat,
it seemed possible.
But the illusion broke.
The Fade blade pierced his abdomen.
The world stopped.
And then…
Shinsei fell into another reality.
Not Reiji's illusion.
Not a trick of the Executioners.
Not a projection of the True Ones.
It was Donyoku's soul.
And there…
something watched him.
A massive, formless creature of dense darkness and incandescent hunger.
It had no face, yet its presence dwarfed any divinity.
It breathed as if swallowing galaxies.
And its voice split the world's sins in two.
"I am a wish.
A sin.
An echo of what humans cannot control."
Shinsei, ego soaring, felt for the first time an unexplainable chill.
The beast didn't attack.
It simply delivered truth.
"And you…
you who believed yourself superior…
dared to touch me.
That was your greatest mistake.
Perhaps I'm not stronger than you now.
But power isn't born from control…
but from desire.
And Donyoku's desire—
the hunger to protect, to break the cycle—
is a thousand times stronger than your ambition to dominate."
Shinsei stepped back.
He felt something he couldn't fully grasp.
For the first time,
he saw Donyoku not as a child… but as a threat.
---
Shinsei opened his eyes in shock.
He had escaped the trance.
But too late.
"Now!" Iwamaru shouted.
Donyoku drove his dagger straight into Shinsei's abdomen, and in the same instant, Iwamaru pulled him back to safety.
The pain was unbearable.
Donyoku folded over, gasping like a wounded animal.
"Weren't you going to make gods cry?" Iwamaru said, half-smirking, his massive blade dripping blood. "You're the only one who looks about to break down."
Donyoku glared at him…
But stood up.
His wound poured blood.
His vision blurred.
But he still held a dagger.
And a desire.
Shinsei watched them calmly.
But when Iwamaru charged again, this time with the Shinigami sword, Shinsei raised a hand to mark and erase it—
Only for the blade to "break" before he could touch it.
The Shinigami separated into liquid shadows, wrapped around Shinsei…
and cut from every angle.
Shinsei healed quickly with the Rebuild blade, but failed to notice Donyoku arriving like a thunderbolt with a flurry of strikes.
Shinsei stepped back.
Not in fear…
but in annoyance.
With an almost animal roar, he unleashed a brutal counterattack that tore through both of them.
Iwamaru collapsed to his knees.
His Shinigami began to dissolve.
Donyoku couldn't breathe.
No strength.
No miracles.
"Unfortunately, you are human," Shinsei said, turning his back with serenity.
"Fragile, fleeting… replaceable.
If your bodies weren't such garbage… you might have aspired to be gods."
But before he finished the sentence…
A sword and a dagger pierced him simultaneously.
Donyoku, eyes blazing.
Iwamaru, fueled by the fury of the fallen.
Shinsei spat blood.
He tried lifting his blades to erase and reconstruct them as his servants…
But Donyoku, leaving one dagger embedded, drew the other and blocked both divine swords with monstrous strength.
The dagger shattered.
But it didn't matter.
Reiji appeared out of nowhere.
One strike.
Precise.
Relentless.
Fatal.
Shinsei was impaled entirely.
Iwamaru stepped back.
And just as Shinsei tried to regenerate…
The Shinigami inside him exploded.
A final suicidal command.
Shinsei's body convulsed.
His organs collapsed.
Donyoku staggered forward and stabbed him in the neck.
"Why did you come?" he asked Reiji, trembling, blood in his breath. "Your lung hasn't even healed…"
"I couldn't stand by while children fought a God," Reiji replied, with a faint smile. "You just needed a little help."
But there was no time for more.
Shinsei's body convulsed—not as a spasm, but as a rupture.
As if something inside him had finally awakened… or escaped.
A laugh spilled from his lips.
But it wasn't his.
It was deeper. Rougher. Broken.
Donyoku stepped back.
That presence wasn't Shinsei.
"Did I scare you…?" the voice said, almost playful, mocking… yet strangely polite. "Forgive me. That wasn't my intention."
Shinsei's eyes turned toward Donyoku—
but Shinsei was no longer the one looking.
"I suppose you deserve a proper introduction," the voice said, raising a trembling hand with forced theatricality. "My name is Tsuyome…
Shinsei Koji's twin brother."
Silence.
A dead bird fell from the sky.
The wind stopped.
Donyoku frowned, unsure if he had heard correctly.
"Brother…? How the hell are you his—"
"Shinkon," Tsuyome interrupted, smiling with bitter melancholy. "Or so the books say. But I prefer to call myself the corpse that never learned how to die."
His skin stretched strangely, as if he still wasn't sure which expression to wear: a smile, rage, or sorrow.
"Yes. I was born beside him. We breathed the same air. Slept in the same crib.
And one day, I simply… stopped breathing."
Tsuyome lowered his head.
A hint of bitterness crossed his face.
"It was his fault. But I don't blame him… not entirely.
He believed the words of that madman, Tsukimura.
The power of the Blessed Twins…
But only one can awaken it."
His fingers traced the memory in the air itself.
"While I slept… he killed me.
With an ordinary dagger.
Not out of hatred.
Out of ambition."
Donyoku clenched his fists.
His breath was heavy.
Everything inside him screamed that this being… was not lying.
Tsuyome noticed.
"Now you understand?
I'm not an invention. Not an ability.
I am what remains when you betray your other self for power."
A tear fell.
Not of pain.
Of mockery.
"I am his punishment.
His shadow.
And his greatest mistake."
Tsuyome laughed—not with joy,
but with the untouched pain still burning inside Shinsei.
"They turned me into his Shinkon.
A weapon.
A memory.
A living scar.
And now that I'm free…
I swear by my death, my flesh, and my stolen divinity…
No one will leave this world alive."
---
Tsuyome raised the Fade blade.
But this time… he didn't aim at a person.
He aimed at the world.
His gaze wasn't vengeful or fanatical.
It was empty. Cold. Decided.
"I don't want to replace anything," he murmured. "Nor rule this world.
I just… want to erase it."
Donyoku lunged with what little he had left.
Reiji ran, shouting.
Iwamaru clenched his fists.
But it was useless.
The blade's mark stretched outward, drawing the line between existence and oblivion.
And just as the end was about to be carved into the universe…
Shinsei screamed.
A spiritual explosion shook everything.
"This body is mine!"
Tsuyome trembled.
His arm faltered.
Shinsei was reclaiming the shared body.
An internal war.
Utter chaos.
Two wills clashing inside a prison of flesh.
---
Miles away, Genshin arrived with his army.
But the people didn't cheer.
They attacked.
"You did nothing for us!" several shouted.
"Die with us!"
The city of the desperate drowned again in blood.
A civil war erupted at the heart of the apocalypse.
The final rebellion against those who failed to save them.
---
Meanwhile…
Shinsei screamed.
Tsuyome held him.
Both wanted to kill.
Both wanted to survive.
Both… were one.
And then, at the most critical instant…
The Fade blade, still in Tsuyome's hand, turned and sank into his own chest.
Straight to the soul.
The world drained of color.
Shinsei screamed.
Tsuyome groaned.
The Artificial God fell silent.
But just when total annihilation was inevitable…
The other blade moved.
Rebuild.
With an instinctive motion, Tsuyome swung it.
Not to save himself—
but to end it.
The blade glowed one last time.
Shinsei was erased.
---
Tsuyome fell to his knees.
Tears.
Not of pain.
Of liberation.
For the first time in his existence…
He was free.
But also… alone.
---
Tsuyome walked.
Aimless. Weightless.
Soulless… but free.
His steps slow, almost ceremonial.
The destruction around him meant nothing.
He simply… walked.
And then, a voice broke the silence.
"Contain."
Chains of fire burst from the ground.
Fast as serpents, they wrapped around Tsuyome's arms, his chest, and finally…
his soul.
Tsuyome didn't scream.
He didn't resist.
He only tilted his head slightly… as if he understood.
---
A man appeared through the dust.
His clothes were filthy, covered in ash.
A hat far too large hid half his face.
Hikaru.
But… something was different.
He wasn't smiling.
He wasn't dancing.
He wasn't saying anything stupid.
He just walked forward.
Serious. Silent.
He reached out and took Tsuyome's body in his hands.
Donyoku, Reiji, and Iwamaru watched him, baffled.
He didn't even greet them.
Hikaru turned, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders…
And tripped over his own foot.
Tsuyome's body toppled onto him.
A small puff of dust rose into the air.
"Damn it!" hissed Hikaru from the ground.
"I wanted to make an epic entrance!"
Donyoku couldn't help letting out a faint laugh.
Iwamaru clicked his tongue.
Reiji simply shook his head.
"Welcome back, Hikaru," said Donyoku, still half-smiling.
Hikaru stood, brushing off the dust.
"Don't talk to me… this was supposed to be a dramatic scene.
And I ruined it with my damn feet!"
---
The streets were hell.
Not because of fire.
But because of the silence between every gunshot.
The civil war didn't end with Shinsei's fall.
On the contrary… it had only begun.
With the "divinity" dead,
the masks fell.
Fanatics screamed that God would return.
Atheists celebrated their freedom by massacring innocents.
Politicians fled or were executed.
Soldiers, confused, changed sides with every sunrise.
In the plazas…
children holding weapons.
In the churches…
murders disguised as redemption.
In the houses…
families praying not to be next.
The world was breaking apart.
Not from lack of order.
But from the excess of lost faith.
---
Weeks.
Months.
The land itself seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
And even so, in the midst of all that rot…
Hokori endured.
Though its wounds were still open.
Though its heroes no longer dreamed of glory.
Though the new enemy was no longer a God…
but humanity without one.
---
The God fell… but humanity was not saved.
For there is no greater catastrophe than a world without faith,
and no demon more cruel
than a human who believes he no longer owes anything to anyone.
Thank you for delving into this second arc, where war is not forged only with blades, but with wounds of the past, decisions with no return… and souls that still have not chosen which side they stand on.