The rain poured mercilessly in the night dawn, sheets of water crashing against stone and steel alike. Overhead, the heavens were split between two moons: the silver moon, glowing faintly through the storm, and the black moon, veiling its sibling with a shadowed shroud. Their light clung to each falling drop, as if even the sky itself trembled.
Carlos's patience had worn thin. His jagged armor of stone scraped against itself with every twitch of his body, his voice booming above the storm.
"Show yourselves, you filthy human scum!"
The reply came swift and merciless—a sword hurtled through the rain with pressure sharp enough to split the air. Carlos barely flinched before the blade pierced his left eye. His roar of agony cracked through the storm, blood and stone fragments spraying. With an enraged grunt, he ripped the sword free from his socket, his stone armor cracking and shifting sluggishly.
And then, in the haze of rain and thunder, Yamori stood before him. Calm. Unmoved. His grey eyes watched the demon with a quiet sharpness, as though the wound meant nothing.
"Hm," Yamori murmured, his voice steady. "I'm guessing you're burning through mana every second you hold that form. Your movements have slowed since you hardened your armor. Imperfect, isn't it? You kn—"
Carlos's bitter laugh cut him off, half-deranged and half-amused, echoing across the flooded docks.
"Shut the hell up, kid! You've stepped into business that doesn't concern you. I'll crush you where you stand!"
Yamori sighed softly, the sound almost drowned by the storm. Carlos slammed his hands together, stone grinding against stone, reshaping into a massive cannon of jagged rock. His armor grew bulkier, spikes jutting out like grotesque thorns. The demon's smirk widened, madness gleaming through the blood spilling down his cheek.
"Admitting defeat already? You should have stayed down, brat! Now, you'll die early!"
Mana surged. Carlos unleashed the Rock Cannon, the blast tearing through the storm like a meteor. In that instant, a shadow darted forward—Yuna. Her hand reached for Yamori, but before she could grasp him, his arm circled her waist, and she vanished from his hold. The blast swallowed them whole, detonating with a rumble that shook the docks to their foundation.
Carlos's laughter rolled louder and louder until even the rain seemed to bow to it. Yet, as the dust began to clear, the laughter faltered. His single eye widened.
From within the smoke stood Yamori, calm and unbroken. His body was coiled in chains that gleamed faintly with an otherworldly shimmer, suppressing the very impact of the blast. In his right hand was a blade, and in his left, a gun. His eyes, closed at first, opened slowly, the silver-grey irises glowing with restrained intensity.
"So it worked…" Yamori muttered, almost to himself. "Though… it took far longer in reality than it ever did in theory."
"Impossible," Carlos hissed, fury boiling. With a guttural roar, he fired another Rock Cannon. Yamori raised the gun without hesitation, pulling the trigger once. A single flaming round burst forth, colliding with the blast and shattering it into harmless fragments. Sparks hissed out in the rain.
"Flames," Yamori spoke evenly, the barrel smoking. "They can burn through almost anything… if they burn hot enough. Now then—shall we continue?"
Carlos's mind reeled. The whispers of the Zodiacs pressed against him. Is this the power of Leo? No. It couldn't be.
Snarling, he charged forward, his body a fortress of stone. Yamori dashed toward him, sprinting up the length of the demon's massive arm as if it were solid ground. With the sword raised high, he ignored the jagged spikes erupting from the armor. They shattered meaninglessly beneath his stride. Yamori swung, his blade slicing through the demonic stone, severing the entire arm in one clean strike.
Carlos's howl ripped through the night as his severed limb crashed to the ground. Yamori's voice was cold, resolute.
"This is Zinpo… the Sword of Truth."
Desperation drove Carlos. With his remaining arm, he swung wildly, stone spikes jutting out in fury. Yamori leveled the gun, cocking it back with a snap before pulling the trigger. The flames burst forth, blood-red and relentless, engulfing the demon's arm. The stone shattered, melted, and crumbled into smoldering ash.
"These are Shinjitsu flames," Yamori continued, his voice carrying through the storm. "Flames that burn like the fires of hell."
Carlos's scream turned shrill, his body trembling beneath the agony. His single eye, once burning with rage, now widened with raw fear. He stumbled, trembling beneath Yamori's gaze.
"W-who… who in the hell are you?" His voice cracked. For the first time, it wasn't arrogance—it was terror.
Yamori's sigh cut through the storm. He spun the gun idly before sliding it back to his hip. His hand tightened around Zinpo's hilt, the sword glowing faintly with its ethereal edge. His coat whipped in the wind, crimson against the night.
"I've been called many things," Yamori said quietly, voice steady as death. "But to people like you… I suppose I'm nothing less than the devil's spawn."
He moved in a blur, blade arcing downward with surgical precision. The cut was clean—Carlos's body split in two, collapsing with a sickening thud against the rain-soaked ground. Yamori didn't even glance back as he drew the gun once more. The weapon's frame shifted subtly, glowing with crimson heat as he pulled the trigger. A final round of roaring fire erupted, engulfing what remained of Carlos.
The demon's body burned away to ash, leaving nothing but smoke and the echo of Yamori's words.
"These… are the Shinjitsu Zinpo weapons."
He lowered the gun, the storm still raging above, as if the heavens themselves bore witness to the fall of a sinner.