Part Two – Chapter Five: The End of Suffering
Darkness was not merely the absence of light, but a heavy embrace wrapping around every corner, every tree, every rock, every shattered branch—as if the forest itself were breathing slowly and heavily, like a living body dead from within, packed with pain and ancient memories.
The ground was torn apart. Old blood had long dried, yet the smell of iron and blood seeped into every stone and every burnt piece of wood, pressing against the chest, making every breath Shura took feel stuffed with rage and memories.
The air was charged with the scent of death and old chaos. Screams of the past echoed everywhere, slipping between broken rocks, ruins, and torn leaves. Everything whispered of betrayals, of pain, of every moment Shura had suffered—without mercy, without protection, without rest.
Shura stood in the middle of this wasteland, his body exhausted, his eyes red from crying and from the psychological pressure that had accumulated over a long time. Every slight movement he made produced a heavy sound, as if the earth itself groaned beneath his presence, as if every stone, branch, and wooden shard cried out in pain.
Broken trees twisted with the wind, branches moved slowly, and the stretched shadows pressed against his heart, his chest, every part of him—as if the night itself wanted to devour him.
He wiped his tears slowly. His voice was low, yet carried an unmistakable sharpness:
"This… is the end."
When he opened his second eye, the horrifying truth appeared without retreat. He was not fully in control—the entity had taken over half of his body, while the other half remained under his will.
His body was distorted, muscles tense, a black aura surrounding him, radiating lethal energy—as if it were a mirror of every internal conflict he had endured since his earliest days. Every breath boiled with rage, every heartbeat doubled the dark energy within him, every feeling of past betrayal merged with the power of revenge to form a single monster—a dual being, a dual soul, a dual heart.
The entity whispered inside him, its voice echoing through the air, flowing between bones, muscles, and skin, as if whispering directly into the depths of his soul:
"Surrender, and let me take control of your body and soul! Be silent—let me complete my revenge!"
Shura roared with unbreakable will, his voice slicing through the air like a sharp blade:
"I told you… be silent!"
By a miracle, he began to gradually regain control of his body. Every tense muscle relaxed slightly, awareness returned piece by piece, and his gaze turned into a lightning bolt of fury.
His eyes blazed with vengeance as he looked toward Mika and Ira, his voice booming through the silence like thunder:
"Let us settle the old accounts."
The monstrous aura within him ignited suddenly. Lethal energy surged forth, light spilling across the devastated ground, glinting off shattered rocks, burnt trees, and every bloodstained mark.
He moved at superhuman speed, as if the earth itself recoiled before him. He leapt forward—blades flew in every direction, the air rippled under immense pressure, blood sprayed, and everything moved like an explosive painting of rage and revenge, as if every second stretched into eternity.
Mika moved like a puppet, every motion carefully calculated, launching attacks from all directions. Blades collided, some shattering midair, sparks bursting from the impacts, as if the forest itself were burning around them.
Ira, with experience rivaling Shura's power, countered the attacks brilliantly. Every strike reflected her skill, every movement spoke of strength and precision, every clash made the land tremble and groan, as though it were embracing the pain of the battle itself.
Shura fought with his entire body, while deeper battles raged within him—the entity struggling for control, Mika, and Ira.
Every moment of internal conflict added immense strain to his body. Every blow he received multiplied his rage. Every tear turned into energy flowing through his hands and bone blades, making each strike more lethal, more precise, more blood-soaked.
Every scream, every stare, every heartbeat, every breath added a new layer of seething power rising within him.
He changed his fighting style. His speed doubled, his attacks became deadlier and sharper. Every strike synchronized with his heartbeat, every step with his breathing, every motion with the echo of pain inside him.
With a swift blow, he slammed Mika to the ground, her body collapsing onto the shattered earth. Then he hurled a blade made of bone toward Ira.
The blade pierced her face—blood streamed from the wound. Her expression froze in shock, eyes widening as she realized the magnitude of the power controlling him.
The air was saturated with terror. Mika and Ira whispered with trembling voices:
"What is happening? Is this Shura… or a monster?"
Shura screamed, his voice heavy with deep, ancient rage, its resonance making the ground tremble beneath his feet:
"Let your flesh be stripped from your bones!"
Blades gathered around Mika, tearing into her body mercilessly. The ground shook from the force of the attacks, the air filled with echoes of screams. Pain rose with every movement, every tear and wound carving itself into the land.
Every surge of dark energy within merged with motion, making each strike more brutal, bloodier, and more explosively lethal.
Ira tried to flee—but Shura chased her relentlessly. His steps were like a killing shadow in the night. Each step brought him closer to her heart, each movement crushed the surrounding air, pressing down on her soul with an unrelenting sense of dread.
Suddenly, the entity seized control of the left side of his body, striking violently as it screamed inside him:
"Surrender and let me take control of your body and soul! Be silent—let me complete my revenge! I will destroy the world in your place!"
Shura roared with indomitable will:
"I told you… be silent!"
The internal struggle ignited. The two halves of his body merged and clashed, every strike emerging in a horrific form. Every heartbeat and breath fueled his resolve, while the entity fought for complete domination.
Every second of struggle increased his power. Every blow transformed inner pain into overwhelming strength. Every tear became energy surging through the blades.
Shura continued pursuing Ira along the same path she tried to escape through. Daggers hunted her without mercy.
Suddenly, one dagger pierced Shura's chest. Ira laughed, believing she had finished him.
But with unyielding resolve, he ripped the dagger from his chest and charged at her with terrifying speed. Every step created a vortex of dark energy. Every breath erupted like a scream that scorched the air. Every movement carried the echo of years of pain and betrayal.
Ira ran faster—but Shura hurled his blades again. One struck her leg, forcing her to crawl away, blood pouring freely.
The screams grew louder, the wind howled around them, as if nature itself bore witness to the end.
Shura stood before her, his eyes cold and lethal. His voice was thunderous in the calm before the storm:
"Please, Shura… forgive me… I am your older sister."
Shura laughed—a cruel, bitter laugh—his voice echoing with rage and sorrow:
"My sister… you destroyed my life. You killed my mother and father. You turned Yuki into a tool. You turned me into a merciless butcher… But this is the end."
He turned away and waved his hand. The blades plunged into Ira's body—then… BOOOOM!
Her body exploded. Destruction engulfed the area. The air was thick with iron and blood. Everything shook from the blast. Rocks flew, dust filled the vision, and the suffocating silence afterward stole breath—as if the world itself paused to witness the finale.
Shura staggered forward and stood at the edge of a mountain, gazing at the sky, his voice hoarse:
"The power I sought is now in my hands… but at what cost?"
He moved his hand—the blades transformed into a sword. He gripped it tightly and screamed:
"I will end this suffering!"
He stabbed himself. Blood sprayed. His eyes slowly closed. Every drop of blood spoke of conflict, pain, vengeance, and all that had passed—as if his entire life had condensed into that final thrust.
After some time, he awakened on a bed. The wound had completely healed. Everything was calm. The air was pure. Soft light fell gently across his face.
Suddenly, Yuki appeared and asked with concern:
"Shura… why did you do all of this to yourself?"
She embraced him, and Shura embraced her in return, feeling warmth for the first time in a very long while. The abyss within him receded slightly.
"How did I not die?" he asked in disbelief.
Yuki answered softly:
"Because I healed your wound."
Shura sighed, his voice low, like a whisper carried by the wind:
"I wanted to die… to rid this world of the monstrous entity."
But he did not know that the entity was now under his control—and that his humanity had returned.
Their love was rekindled, and together they began rebuilding the shattered world anew.
Author's Message to the Reader
Dear Reader,
Not every human is born a butcher—but betrayal and abandonment are what turn a person into a merciless killer.
If such a person is guided back to the right path, they can return to being human once more.
I hope Shura's story has resonated with you.
With my regards,
Author: 1Shinigami1