"I could see how everything unfolded… my vessel was being toyed with. I decided to pay no mind — it was his battle, not mine," said Itarim.
It was… amusing, almost tender, watching them beat the arrogance out of him. He had grown cocky — thinking he could fight without offering something in return.
I had laid all the pieces perfectly, hoping this vessel would shatter.
But again and again, he stood back up.
Commendable. Admirable, even.
Yet foolish.
He heard the pleas of his sword but ignored them. He truly was intriguing.
Still, I could not let him die.
So, I took control.
The Abyss Guardian staggered, blood dripping from his mouth, confusion clouding his eyes.
"I don't understand… you were supposed to be dead."
"Yeah," Itarim replied mockingly, tilting his head. "Me too. But I guess I survived."
Enraged, the Guardian lunged forward, blade raised high—
but time itself fractured.
The world slowed to a crawl.
Itarim stepped through the frozen air, calm and cold, placing a hand on the Guardian's forehead.
"Tell me… what made you think you could defile me?"
Reality buckled and dissolved.
The Guardian blinked—and suddenly, he was home.
Human again.
Warm sunlight streamed through the windows. The smell of food filled the air.
"Honey, wake up already," said a familiar voice.
His wife.
He turned, trembling. She smiled — gentle, perfect.
His three children laughed around the table.
"Papa, sleepyhead!"
"Seriously, Dad, again?"
The Guardian sat down, tears blurring his vision. He hadn't felt this warmth in centuries. The food tasted like peace itself.
But then—
The air thickened. Shadows crawled. The light dimmed.
"Honey…" his wife said softly. "You failed."
"Huh?"
Her voice deepened, twisting.
"How could you eat your wife and children so easily?"
The Guardian froze. He looked down — the soup had turned to blood, the meat and bread into mangled flesh.
"No… I didn't…" he whispered, shaking. "I would never—"
But his wife and children, now drenched in gore, smiled with empty eyes.
"But you did," they whispered in unison.
"It's okay, though. We're a closer family now… aren't we, Daddy?"
He stumbled back, horrified.
"You're not them! I don't know you!"
They took that as an invitation.
The family lunged, tearing him apart as he screamed — a scream swallowed by the abyss.
In Reality
The Guardian sat in a corner, trembling.
He clutched his knees, eyes wide with terror, reliving the nightmare over and over.
Itarim watched, amused — almost fascinated.
Then Luna's voice broke through.
"Please… who are you? You're not Yuta."
Her voice trembled. She saw the pale hair streaks, the strange mark burning across his arm.
Itarim sighed, stepping closer.
"Daughter… it's me."
Luna froze.
"Master?"
He nodded gently.
She leapt into his arms, tears flowing freely.
Itarim held her — one hand on her back, the other trembling slightly.
It was a rare silence, filled with grief and reunion.
But peace never lingers long in the abyss.
After a time, Itarim whispered to her — words that made her burst into tears. She listened closely, nodding. Then he turned back to the Guardian.
The Guardian looked up, broken and hollow.
"Please," he begged, "put an end to my misery."
Itarim's voice was calm, almost kind.
"Then sleep… and rest in eternal peace."
The Guardian's head bowed.
As the last breath left him, he saw them — his wife and children — smiling.
"Welcome home," they said softly.
And then, silence.
Itarim sat alone in the corner. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Time for this vessel to wake up."
He sank back into the darkness.
Yuta gasped awake.
He looked down — Luna, now in her blade form, rested in his grasp. The Guardian's body lay still beside them.
"What happened?" Yuta asked, confused.
Luna gave vague answers, her tone distant.
Before Yuta could press further, the Abyss itself began to glow.
The light within the abyss dimmed until only Yuta stood beneath the spirits' gaze — countless echoes of those who had perished.
Among them, the Guardian's figure emerged, his once-terrifying face now serene.
"You freed me," he said. "And for that, I offer what remains of this realm's faith."
He raised his hand, and three currents unfurled before Yuta — not stones, but living streams of essence swirling in the air, each whispering in a tongue older than creation.
The first shimmered white-gold, burning with purity that hurt to look upon.
"This is the Current of Radiance — the will to protect, to heal, to blind despair itself.
But its warmth demands sacrifice; those who wield it burn quietly from within."
The second bled crimson-black, coiling like smoke around his fingers.
"This is the Current of Oblivion — born of shadows, of rage, of memory's end.
It destroys without regret and devours even the heart that commands it."
The last drifted silver-gray, neither light nor dark, pulsing between both like a heartbeat.
"And this," said the Guardian softly, "is the Current of the Hollow — where light and dark lose meaning.
It grants freedom… but at the cost of isolation. No god, no demon, no man will claim you — but none will stand beside you, either."
The abyss was silent. Only the hum of power remained.
Yuta's eyes reflected all three streams. His voice, when it came, was calm but unyielding.
"You speak as though I must choose a single path…
But I've walked through light that betrayed me, darkness that consumed me, and emptiness that refused to end.
Tell me — why should I be bound by any of them?"
He stepped forward, extending his hand.
"I choose not one — but all.
For the world doesn't need another servant of balance or chaos…
It needs someone who will break the cycle entirely."
The Guardian stared, stunned — then a slow, knowing smile crossed his face.
"So be it. The vessel that denies the gods shall bear their burden.
You will hold all three currents — but two shall slumber until you are ready to remember what you are."
The currents surged, weaving into Yuta's body like threads of eternity.
The abyss quaked, the spirits bowed, and the Guardian's final words echoed like prophecy:
"He bears the Primordial Flow — the beginning and the undoing of all things.
But he will forget… until the world remembers his name."
Yuta blinked — and woke again.
Luna was nudging him, impatient.
All he could remember was the faint light at the end of the abyss… the gate opening before him.
Meanwhile — On the Surface
Arthur's voice thundered.
"This is unprecedented!"
"Don't do it!" shouted Kiyo, Sayo, Rika, Muichiro, Lancaster, and Shiro, all struggling on the ground.
Arthur ignored them, eyes blazing.
He charged forward, sword raised.
"Limit—BREAK!"
A flash of steel.
Then — silence.
The sound of cracked bones echoed across the field. Arthur's blade destroyed, ribs cracked.
He collapsed, gasping.
Rika's voice broke through the haze.
"Who are you? What… what are you?"
The figure stepped forward, calm and cold, eyes glowing crimson beneath the smoke.
"I am Baruka," he said softly.
"Leader of this demon pack."