The Cyber Ascension | Arc 7 — "The Bloodlines and Carnage" | Volume 7 | Chapter 67 : "The Fear"
The mountains were burning.
Not slowly—violently.
Entire ridges cracked open, spewing rivers of flame that crawled down the slopes like living serpents. Forests had ceased to exist; only blackened skeletons of trees remained, collapsing under their own weight. The sky above the Second Heaven had darkened into a suffocating void, choked with ash and crimson smoke.
At the center of this devastation stood one man.
Sanji Youta.
The King of Hell.
He stood motionless, massive katana resting against his shoulder, its black-red blade dripping heat like molten blood. The fire around him bent away, refusing to touch him—as if Hell itself feared burning its own king.
The ground beneath his feet had sunk several meters, crushed by nothing but his presence.
Scattered across the ruined battlefield lay the Three Generals of Heaven.
Uznane.
Kashei.
Konshina.
Unconscious.
Broken.
Barely breathing.
A faint, trembling barrier of Heaven's Spherical Energy still surrounded them—Kashei's final instinctive defense—flickering like a dying candle against the inferno. Every second, cracks spread across it, threatening to shatter completely.
Sanji Youta glanced at them.
And laughed.
Not loudly.
Not madly.
It was worse.
A low, disappointed exhale escaped his lips.
Sanji Youta
(disgusted, cold)
"I thought Generals of Heaven were strong…"
He took a single step forward.
The mountains behind him collapsed, entire cliffs disintegrating into ash.
"…but you are weaker than insects."
His crimson eyes narrowed, pupils glowing like dying stars.
"Filthy… Generals."
The word filthy carried weight—an absolute rejection of their existence.
The flames surged higher, swallowing the battlefield. The Second Heaven itself seemed to recoil, its laws trembling under the King of Hell's overwhelming dominance.
Then—
BOOM.
A sudden, unnatural ripple tore through the inferno.
The flames were forced apart, shoved outward as if an invisible wall had been slammed into reality itself. The air screamed, pressure imploding inward before exploding outward in a perfect shockwave.
Smoke parted.
Ash scattered.
A figure stood where nothing should have survived.
Calm.
Unmoving.
Unafraid.
Zenōnuke Kanizake.
His feet were planted firmly on scorched stone, cloak fluttering violently in the pressure storm. His eyes were sharp, focused—not on the devastation, not on the fallen generals—
—but directly on Sanji Youta.
For the first time since arriving in the Second Heaven, the King of Hell paused.
Kanizake took one step forward.
The fire did not touch him.
Kanizake
(calm, steady)
"Who are you?"
The question echoed across the burning mountains.
Sanji Youta turned fully toward him now, katana lifting slightly, his smile returning—slow, predatory, pleased.
Sanji Youta
"I am the King of Hell."
He raised his massive blade, blood-red light crawling along its edge like veins awakening.
"Sanji Youta."
The name itself felt like a curse.
Kanizake did not flinch.
He straightened his posture, aura tightening around him—not exploding, not raging—but condensing, becoming heavier, denser, more dangerous.
Kanizake
"Then listen carefully."
He interlocked his hands.
The instant his fingers locked together—
The air froze.
Flames halted mid-motion.
Ash stopped falling.
Even Sanji Youta's aura hesitated—just for a fraction of a second.
"I am Zenōnuke Kanizake."
A deep, ancient pressure spread outward, crawling across the ruined land like a silent warning.
Two kings.
Two bloodlines.
Two philosophies of destruction.
The Second Heaven trembled—not from fire, not from explosions—
—but from fear.
Because everyone who could still sense energy knew the truth:
This was no longer a massacre.
This was the prelude to a cataclysm.
And when these two collided—
Heaven itself might not survive.