The coliseum was gone.
What remained was a crater—vast, jagged, glowing. Its walls glistened red, magma veins splitting the earth in furious cracks. The heat shimmer bent the air until even the sky above seemed to ripple.
Stone and marble rained from what had once been the stands, each chunk swallowed by haze or sparks before it could land. Dust swirled like storm clouds, heavy with the stench of iron and fire.
The crowd screamed. Some fled, clawing over one another. Others collapsed in prayer, too weak to move. Guards tried to herd them, but the crushing aura froze most in place. The lucky ones escaped. The rest could only watch, wide-eyed, trapped in the belly of a dying coliseum.
Code stood tall against the chaos, aura burning sharp to deflect falling rubble. His gaze never left the two monsters in the crater. One more clash like that… and this whole city will sink.
Beside him, Yullan wept through grit and ash, her voice raw and breaking. "STOP IT, YOU IDIOT! YOU'RE TEARING THE WORLD APART!"
Below, Orin and Draven faced each other in the molten glow, their auras writhing like gods of ruin.
Draven straightened, scythe-claws twitching. His cracked haze armor groaned as it split wider, and the shadows inside poured outward like tar boiling under pressure.
Eyes opened.
Not just on his face—across his chest, his arms, his shoulders. Crimson slits blinking in uneven rhythm, each one staring in a different direction. Some rolled, others focused straight on Orin, unblinking, hateful.
Then came the mouths.
From the fissures in his armor, jagged jaws stretched open, teeth scraping as they whispered. Some pleaded. Some screamed. Others laughed in a chorus of broken tones.
"Hungry…"
"Devour him…"
"Storm child…"
"Feed us…"
The whispers layered until they became a storm of voices, hundreds speaking at once, echoing across the crater. It wasn't sound anymore—it was pressure, vibrating in bones, rattling skulls, freezing breath in every chest.
The haze around Draven thickened into a living fog, coiling with chains that lashed and snapped like serpents. Sparks from Orin's storm fizzled when they touched it, smothered by abyssal hunger.
The crowd broke.
Men fell to their knees, hands clawing their faces. Women dragged children into their arms, sobbing. Some fainted outright, collapsing under the crushing weight.
On the rim, Yullan shrieked through her tears. "STOP IT! You're not even human anymore!"
Code's face hardened, eyes cold. His aura flared to keep the surviving spectators safe from falling rubble. Yet even he, battle-hardened, felt his stomach twist at the sight. This isn't a man. This is a maw wearing skin.
Draven lifted his clawed hand slowly, deliberately, every eye turning with it. The chorus of mouths whispered louder, overlapping until it was pure noise. His crimson pupils locked on Orin, his grin stretching jagged.
"Storm child…" he growled, his voice now joined by the choir of voices within him. "…let me devour your soul."
The haze lashed outward, black fog crawling across the crater like a tide, swallowing stone, eating light.
And Orin—burnt, bleeding, sparks unstable—only leaned forward, white eyes wide, grin splitting his face.
"Heh… cooler and uglier. Guess it's my turn to get noisier."
The abyss tide rolled across the crater, a black fog alive with whispers. It devoured stone, it smothered sparks, it pulled heat into itself.
And then the storm screamed back.
Orin's tiny frame convulsed as the unstable orbit detonated harder.
Black sparks burst outward in waves, each one cracking like exploding coal. Blue lightning no longer crawled across the ground—it shot skyward, spears of light stabbing the clouds, turning the heavens jagged with electric scars. White shards spun frantically, orbiting like broken stars, flickering in and out of existence. Red pulses boomed off-rhythm, each one pounding like the heartbeat of a giant, cracking the floor beneath him.
The air warped.
Pressure slammed outward, blasting haze away from his immediate body. Debris rose, pebbles to boulders, all dragged into his storm until they shattered midair.
Blood streamed from his nose and ears, sizzling when sparks touched it. His skin split in streaks, glowing faintly as if light burned beneath. His teeth clenched, his body trembling under the weight of his own power.
And yet—he laughed.
"Hah! It feels like fireworks… inside my bones!"
Code's stomach dropped. He's not controlling it. He's just… enduring it.
The crowd screamed again, clutching their ears as the blue lightning split the clouds above, thunder cracking like war drums. Some tried to crawl away, others sat frozen, weeping.
Yullan's voice cut through it, raw and breaking. "IDIOT! YOU'RE TEARING YOURSELF APART!"
Orin turned his bloody grin up at her, white eyes blazing.
"Tearing apart? Nah… I'm just getting louder!"
He staggered one step forward. The storm orbit convulsed, sparks colliding midair, tiny explosions peppering the crater like gunfire. Lightning writhed, weaving into patterns that cracked across the molten floor.
Draven's crimson eyes narrowed among the sea of others. His mouths whispered faster, his grin jagged wider.
The storm and abyss pressed closer, both growing, both devouring the world around them.
And in the heart of it, a boy laughed like it was all a game.
The abyss tide lunged first.
Draven's haze chains erupted from his back in a storm of iron shadows, each one tipped with gnashing maws. They whipped forward, snapping, writhing, the air itself screaming under their speed.
Orin blurred into motion, sparks detonating around him. The unstable orbit screamed, arcs ripping trenches into the ground with every step.
A chain snapped for his head—he ducked, grin wide. Another lashed at his chest—he grabbed it midair, sparks searing into the abyss metal. The maw on its end shrieked as his tiny fist crushed it.
Then, with a laugh, he spun.
The ten-year-old swung the massive chain in a circle, sparks flying as the abyssal link whistled through the air.
"WHEEEEEE!" he howled, like a child on a playground. "CHAIN SWING!"
Draven's crimson eyes widened just a fraction before the chain, still attached to his back, yanked him forward.
CRASH!
The devil's body slammed into the molten floor, sparks exploding outward, haze sputtering on impact. The crater shook.
But he rose instantly, scythe-claws slashing, cutting his own chain free with a hiss. His mouths roared in chorus, the whispers becoming shrieks.
"FEED US!"
"BREAK HIM!"
Orin's grin split wider. His storm orbit convulsed, sparks colliding, white shards flaring too bright.
"Okay, okay—time for fireworks!"
He thrust both fists forward.
"DRAGON VEIN WAVE—BUT CRAZIER!"
The unstable blast erupted.
Not one dragon—five, each one malformed, jagged, sparks sputtering. Black arcs tore across their bodies, blue lightning zigzagged through their spines, red pulses boomed from their jaws. White shards scattered like scales breaking loose as they launched forward.
The crater lit like dawn.
Draven roared, his scythe-claws carving the air. He met the storm head-on, haze chains wrapping into a shield. His grotesque body braced as the five unstable dragons crashed into him.
BOOOOM!
The explosion swallowed the crater. Sparks, haze, and molten fire blasted skyward, the shockwave flattening what was left of the stands.
The crowd shrieked, thrown back, some tumbling like rag dolls across the broken stone. Guards braced shields that shattered on impact.
Code's aura flared to shield Yullan, dust and sparks hammering against his barrier. His jaw clenched tight. He's going to burn out completely.
Through the haze, the two figures emerged again.
Draven's armor cracked, his haze chains in tatters, his grotesque grin still jagged wide.
And Orin, body smoking, blood dripping from fresh burns—still laughing, fists raised.
The smoke thinned.
And for the first time, it was clear how much the storm child had given up.
Orin staggered forward on trembling legs. Sparks sputtered chaotically, bursting instead of orbiting. His skin was torn in streaks where lightning had burned through it, veins glowing faint red beneath, as if his blood itself was alight. Each breath wheezed with heat, each exhale a hiss of steam.
His small hands were split at the knuckles, raw to the bone, yet still clenched into fists.
Blood trickled from his ears, his nose, even the corners of his eyes. It dripped onto the molten ground, sizzling instantly into vapor. His grin wavered only to break wider, crooked, delirious.
"Heh… feels like my bones are singing," he rasped, voice shredded but gleeful.
Code's heart clenched. His aura spiked reflexively, teeth grinding. He's not channeling. He's tearing himself apart. If he pushes once more, his body will collapse. A child's frame can't…
From the crowd, gasps and sobs mixed with stunned silence. No one knew whether to cheer or pray.
Yullan's scream cut through it all, raw enough to bleed. "IDIOT! YOU'LL DIE! STOP ALREADY!"
She clawed at the guards holding her back, tears streaking down her ash-covered face. "PLEASE, STOP! YOU DON'T HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING!"
But Orin turned, bloodied teeth flashing in a grin, white eyes blazing with manic sparks.
"Die? Nah!" He coughed blood, spat it, then laughed harder. "I'm too busy playing!"
The words struck like lightning. The crowd fell into stunned silence, watching the ten-year-old dripping blood, half-broken, still grinning as if this was all some endless game.
Even Draven paused for a heartbeat, his grotesque form twitching, crimson eyes narrowing. Then his grin widened jagged, the abyss choir laughing in broken chorus.
"Good… keep breaking. I'll eat what's left."
The storm orbit convulsed again, unstable sparks screaming louder.
The world around them was gone.
What had once been a coliseum was now a scar of earth—an immense crater glowing with veins of magma, its walls jagged and burning. Heat shimmer rippled the air, twisting the sky itself into a mirage.
Stone fragments floated briefly in the storm and haze before shattering into dust. Every breath seared the lungs of those who still dared watch.
At the rim, the crowd was a sea of broken voices. Some wept, some prayed, some stared, hollow-eyed, unable to look away. Yullan's screams had shredded her throat, yet she still clawed at the guards, tears burning tracks through the ash on her face. Code stood beside her, aura braced, every muscle taut—ready to leap, yet frozen by the enormity of what unfolded below.
Two figures remained in the heart of ruin.
Draven stood monstrous, partial true form grotesque beyond recognition. Chains coiled around him, whispering mouths stretching wide across his chest and arms. Crimson eyes—dozens now—glared in every direction, their glow slicing through the haze. His scythe-claws crossed before him, dripping abyss fog that hissed as it touched molten stone.
"Storm child…" his voice growled, a chorus of voices behind it. "…let me devour you whole."
Opposite him, Orin wobbled, his small frame scorched and bloody. Sparks sputtered wildly, lightning jagged across his body, burns etched deep into his skin. His knees shook, his arms trembled, but his fists stayed raised. His grin—crooked, bloody, absurd—refused to break.
He bent slightly at the knees, lowering into a stance that looked more like a playground brawl than a warrior's form. His aura convulsed, unstable orbit howling with every heartbeat.
And then, through bloodied lips, he laughed.
"Fine! Let's see if your mouth can chew through my stupid punches!"
The storm shrieked. The abyss howled.
And both monsters charged.