The world itself seemed to freeze.
The clash of steel, the screeches of demons—all faded into silence beneath Akira Tanma's killing intent. The smoke coiled upward, torn apart by his aura, and the moonlight gleamed on his blade like the judgment of the heavens.
"Akira…" Rehan whispered, his voice trembling, not from fear, but from the crushing weight of the aura flooding the battlefield. Even Ishita, who had faced death countless times, felt her knees weaken under the storm of rage that radiated from him.
Dravok, locked in combat with Zahir, turned his horned head. His crimson eyes narrowed.
"That aura… not human. Not demon. What are you?"
Akira's gaze snapped to him. Cold. Merciless.
"I am death. And you… are first."
---
Akira vs Dravok
Before Dravok could blink, Akira moved.
The ground exploded as he launched forward, his coat whipping like a shadow in the wind. His blade sliced through the night—one strike, but it carried the weight of a thousand battles.
CLANG!
Dravok barely managed to block with his claw, sparks erupting as steel met abyssal flesh. The force drove him back, his heels carving trenches into the stone. His crimson eyes widened.
"Impossible…"
Akira's expression did not change. He pressed forward, every strike faster, heavier, sharper.
Zahir staggered to his feet, blood dripping down his arm, watching in disbelief.
"This… this is the strength of Akira Tanma…"
Each swing of Akira's sword carved the air apart. Each step thundered like a god's judgment.
Dravok roared in fury, unleashing a storm of abyssal fire, but Akira cut through the flames as if they were mist. His killing intent drowned the battlefield, suffocating even the bravest demons.
And then— slash!
A single clean cut tore across Dravok's chest, spilling black ichor into the night. The 8th Rank staggered back, his roar turning into a scream.
"You… accursed human!"
Akira's voice was calm, chilling:
"You hurt Ethan. For that alone… you're already dead."
His blade gleamed once more.
And with a flash that split the night, Dravok's head fell to the ground.
---
The Turning Tide
The surrounding demons faltered, their crimson eyes shaking. The unbreakable tide that had drowned the city suddenly hesitated.
Rehan felt hope burn inside him for the first time that night.
"He… he killed an 8th Rank…"
Ishita's eyes widened, her voice barely a whisper.
"No… he annihilated him."
Zahir, leaning on his bloodied blade, let out a laugh through gritted teeth.
"Hah… didn't even let me finish my fight. That's Akira for you."
But Akira was not done. His eyes burned with wrath as he turned toward the hordes of demons still swarming the streets. He raised his sword, pointing it at the army.
"You've had your fun, slaughtering innocents, tormenting my friends. Now… it's my turn."
And then the storm truly began.
---
Akira Unleashed
He became a blur.
One heartbeat, he was among Rehan and Ishita.
The next—he was at the heart of the demon army, his blade tearing through flesh, his aura exploding outward like a hurricane.
Demons screamed as their bodies split apart in showers of ichor. Akira's movements were fluid, merciless—each strike a dance of death. He cut through dozens as easily as cutting through grass. His presence crushed even the bravest demons into trembling wrecks.
Rehan and Ishita fought at his back, following in his wake, their spirits reignited. For every demon that dared approach them, three more fell to Akira's wrath. The battlefield shifted—the tide that had drowned them was now receding.
Ethan, still on his knees, watched through blurred vision. His lips moved, whispering hoarsely:
"Akira… you came…"
---
Rehan's Resolve
Even with Akira leading the storm, the battlefield remained brutal. For every demon Akira cut down, more poured from the shadows. Rehan's blade flashed, his body aching, his arms trembling—but his spirit refused to break.
"Ishita! With me!"
"Yes!"
Together they struck, carving their own path beside Akira. Ishita's magic lit the night with flames, lightning, and scarlet arcs of raw energy. Rehan's blade was a whirlwind, his strikes growing sharper, heavier, fueled by the hope Akira had reignited.
The trio fought as one. And for the first time, the demons truly began to falter.
---
The Final Push
Hours seemed to pass in moments. The streets of Paris burned, flooded with ichor and fire. But slowly—slowly—their combined strength carved victory from despair.
By dawn, the screams had quieted.
By dawn, the last of the demon army lay in ruin, their bodies scattered across the crimson streets.
Rehan dropped to his knees, his blade buried into the cracked stone, his chest heaving. Ishita collapsed beside him, sweat soaking her hair, her hands trembling from exhaustion. Zahir leaned on his broken sword, barely able to stand.
But Akira still stood tall, his blade dripping black blood, his coat torn, his eyes sharp as steel.
The storm had ended.
And for the first time since the night began—the world was silent.
---
The Aftermath
Rehan lifted his head, staring at Akira's back. His heart swelled with gratitude, admiration, and something deeper.
"He… he saved us all…"
Ishita's eyes softened, her voice low.
"Akira Tanma… is truly terrifying."
Zahir let out a ragged laugh.
"Terrifying? No… He's a damn miracle."
And then—Rehan's gaze drifted to Ethan.
Still breathing. Barely conscious. But alive.
Relief flooded him, tears stinging his eyes. He whispered:
"Thank you… Akira."
Akira turned his head slightly, his voice calm once more, though his eyes still burned with restrained fury.
"Don't thank me yet. This was only the beginning. The real war… is still ahead."