Inside the underground shelters, despair choked the air like smoke. The walls trembled with the echoes of war, and people clung to one another as distant roars shattered the horizon. Tears streamed down faces—mothers clutching their children, elders whispering prayers, soldiers staring helplessly at the trembling screens that showed the battlefield above.
The forces had fallen. Many of the B-rank and A-rank hunters could no longer even stand. Half of the demon army still stood untouched—unmoved, unharmed, unbroken—and their strongest division had yet to even join the battle. Only a handful of hunters remained on their feet, bloodied and panting. If they fell now, humanity would vanish with them.
Amid the chaos, hopelessness settled over the ranks.
"Is this really our limit?" one hunter gasped, barely able to lift his blade. "Are we… are we truly done?"
But then his voice broke through the despair—a cry that ignited hearts like wildfire.
"Brothers! Look at Mr. Ren! Look at the S-ranks! They're exhausted, they're bleeding—yet they're still fighting! They believed in us, that's why we were chosen! We protect the families who trust us to keep them safe! Don't you dare give up now!"
The shout echoed through the ruins.
Every hunter's trembling hand tightened around their weapon.
"If what Mr. Ren said is true," the voice continued, "then there's a shadow within us all. Let's wake it. Let's make it answer our call!"
Bodies broken, bones cracked, blood spilling—they rose once more. Their shadows flickered beneath their feet like dying embers, unstable, shaking—but growing. Power surged through the air as one by one, the shadows twisted and pulsed, writhing in sync with their owners' heartbeat.
For a moment, everything stilled. Even the demons paused to watch.
Ren's eyes widened.
"What… is this?" he whispered, his voice trembling with awe.
Every hunter's shadow sparked again—dark tendrils wrapping around their weapons, climbing their arms.
"Keep going!" his voice roared. "Shatter your limits! Open your shadow's eyes!"
And then, amid the storm of pain and exhaustion, a voice echoed—not from the world above, but from the depths below. It was ancient, heavy, resonant with power.
"You have come to us. That means the battle has begun—and the Ninth King has risen to lead you. You have cast aside pride and darkness for the sake of humanity. So we, the Shadow Soldiers, shall grant you our power. Help your king… and stop them from breaking through."
In that instant, mana erupted from the hunters like a volcanic storm. Their blades darkened, cloaked in shadowfire. Their eyes gleamed with ghostly black light. Power bled from their wounds, not blood, but pure shadow essence.
Akari gasped.
"What the hell… happened to them?"
Ren stood frozen, the reflection of their awakening flashing in his eyes.
"Master," Ren called to Kuro, "did they—?"
Kuro nodded slowly, disbelief in his voice. "Yes… they did. They truly awakened their shadows."
He smiled faintly, but his body suddenly gave way—he dropped to one knee, coughing blood.
"Master!" Ren shouted.
"I'm fine," Kuro rasped, forcing himself up. "Age… just doesn't forgive easily. But no matter what… I'll keep going."
The newly awakened hunters roared together—a chorus of defiance. Pushing past the pain, they charged the demonic horde, blades howling through the air.
"Mr. Ren!" one of them cried, turning his head mid-battle. "We don't have your power, but we'll clear the path! You can finish this!"
"Stop!" Ren shouted. "That's suicide!"
But they were already gone—running, cutting, dying.
They tore through the first wave, slicing down monsters that had once seemed immortal. Yet every victory cost them dearly. Arms severed. Flesh torn. Lives extinguished. Blood soaked the battlefield until it looked like the ground itself was bleeding.
Still, they fought. Breath ragged, eyes dim, their bodies broken—but their spirits unyielding.
The battlefield had become an echo of a war fought thousands of years ago—a grim reflection of history repeating itself.
Through the smoke and the rain of ash, Sivrath finally stepped forward. His presence alone silenced the chaos.
He looked across the blood-soaked field with cold amusement.
"I never thought," he began, voice like a blade through thunder, "that your little army could slay half of my lesser demons. Impressive."
His crimson eyes locked on Ren.
"But look at them now—your people, your hunters. Barely standing, broken, dying. Your generals? Crushed. Your soldiers? Spent. I must hand it to you, Ninth King… you are stronger than the Eight Kings combined. But this—" he raised his clawed hand, "—this is where it ends."
Ren's gaze hardened. He turned to his forces.
"All S-ranks," he commanded, "get everyone out of here. Now."
"What?" one hunter gasped. "There are too many! Are you saying we've lost?"
Ren's voice thundered like a storm.
"Shut your damn mouth and move! Look at yourselves—half-dead, running on fumes. If you stay, you'll die, and your deaths will mean nothing! Fall back and recover your strength!"
But before anyone could respond, a deafening blast shook the sky.
Everyone froze.
High above, the second gate—which had remained dormant, sealed, quiet—now cracked open like shattering glass. A pulse of energy ripped through the heavens.
Every hunter turned pale. The world itself seemed to tremble.
The second gate… was opening.
From the cracked sky of the second gate poured a darkness that made even the fiercest hunters shiver. But it was not merely demons that emerged. Titans, colossal beings forged from shadow and void, descended with heavy steps that cracked the earth. Dragons stretched their wings wide, each beat shaking the air. Monstrous knights, armor etched with runes of old, and creatures that belonged only to nightmares followed in silent ranks. The ground itself seemed to quiver beneath the sheer scale of this army.
Ren blinked, his calm still intact, though his eyes betrayed surprise. "T…That's—"
Umbra and Zyra emerged from the swirling shadows of the gate, stepping forward with a weight that bent the world around them. They walked past corpses, the remains of hunters and demons alike, without acknowledgment. Behind them, the abyssal horde flowed like a dark tide, infinitely vast. Twice the size of Sivrath's forces, their order and discipline unnervingly absolute.
And then, the impossible happened.
The entire abyssal army—titans, dragons, knights, and monsters alike—knelt, bowing in unison. Their immense heads lowered, their weapons touching the ground, shadows stretching long and low, as if the night itself had fallen into submission.
"We welcome our king," a voice boomed, carrying across the battlefield like a rolling storm. Umbra and Zyra spoke in unison, their tone reverent, cold, and commanding:
"We welcome our king. Rise, and lead us."
The hunters, exhausted and broken, froze. Some fell to their knees, mouths open in shock. Children and reporters watching the live feed recoiled as if the screen itself had swallowed them. All at once, the impossible became real. Ren Akatsuki—the man who had fought alongside them, who had inspired them to awaken their shadows—stood at the center of an army that nightmares would envy.
Sivrath's crimson eyes widened beneath his helm. He raised a hand, but words caught in his throat. "He… he is not the Ninth King…" a subordinate whispered. "…He is… a monster ruling over monsters."
Sivrath's voice rose, cracking like a whip. "The battle isn't over! This… this is but a prelude. The true war begins now!"
The civilians in shelters across the city gasped in terror. The live reporters screamed into cameras, words tumbling in panic:
"The second gate has opened! Creatures of legend, of nightmares, have emerged! But… they're… bowing… to an unknown hunter! Who is he? Is he a savior… or something else?"
Ren's voice cut through the panic, sharp and commanding:
"The battle has shifted. Those who can fight, fight with me. Those who cannot, retreat and live. You will bear witness. You will carry this truth to the world."
Oro, stepped forward, astonished. "We're supposed to report the battle… are we journalists! Or hunters. What are we?"
Ren looked at him, calm yet burning with authority. "You are more than witnesses. You are comrades. Humanity must know what we endured here. Now, rise. And watch the end of this battle."
The abyssal army responded like one being, moving in unison. A three-faced dragon emerged from their ranks, each maw exhaling a different essence of shadow—void, darkness, and silence. It lowered itself before Ren, its massive body towering over the broken battlefield.
Ren turned slowly, meeting Sivrath's gaze with a faint, almost serene smile. Behind him, the abyssal army held steady. Titans, dragons, and warriors waited for his command, obedient beyond comprehension.
"Then rise," Ren said, voice like iron cloaked in shadow. "Let the world remember this day."
The hunters, beaten and battered, breathed raggedly. They were broken, injured, bloodied, yet they stood. Their shadows, awakened and resonant, flickered in defiance.
Beat up.
Torn down.
But still—still going.
And on the battlefield, shadows trembled. Not in fear, but in anticipation. They whispered of a war that had only just begun—a war where humanity's last line had found its king.
Sivrath tightened his grip on his weapon, rage and disbelief flashing across his features. "So… this is the Ninth King," he muttered through clenched teeth. "He commands not just men, but beasts, titans, and monsters alike…"
Ren's gaze swept over the battlefield. Exhausted hunters, awakened shadows, and the abyssal army kneeling in perfect formation—it was a sight few could comprehend. He raised a hand, and the wind seemed to obey, carrying ash and shadow across the field like a dark tide.
"Now," Ren whispered, almost to himself, "we end this."
And in that quiet, terrible moment, the battlefield held its breath. The first wave had been fought. Humanity had barely survived. But a greater storm was coming—the true war between shadows and demons had only just begun.
The watchers in the shadow realm leaned forward. Even the eight kings, ancient and unyielding, felt the shift. This was no ordinary battle. This was the rise of a monarch who had transcended his title.
Ren's lips curved into a small, determined smile. Behind him, Umbra, Zyra, and the abyssal legions waited. Across the ruined city, hunters readied themselves.
And somewhere deep in the sky, the second gate had closed—its ominous presence leaving only one certainty: the monsters and the humans bowed to a single king.
The war was far from over. But for the first time, hope had returned to humanity.