The black flames struck The Death with a force that seemed to swallow sound itself.
These flames weren't ordinary.
They didn't crackle or hiss.
They devoured.
A column of darkness engulfed him for an instant. The forest trembled under its heat, and the trees around them groaned as if the very wood was screaming from inside. Cracks spiderwebbed along their trunks, deep and jagged, as though the fire were trying to eat their very souls.
When the smoke finally cleared…
The Death was still there.
His boots had slid backward several meters, cutting shallow trenches into the earth. His cloak was charred, threads curling into faint purple smoke. But the man himself… he stood unshaken, upright, almost graceful in the devastation around him.
He slowly lifted his head.
…He's strong.
His voice, low and almost reverent, cut through the charged air. It wasn't fear, not caution, not even annoyance. It was… awe.
His face twisted into a smile. A wide, strange, almost childlike smile. His eyes shone with a violet gleam that made the hairs on the back of Ryo's neck stand. Not madness. Not anger. Pure, twisted fascination.
Truly strong…
The Death let out a low, deep laugh. It resonated through the trees, not threatening but oddly joyful.
Ryo stood frozen, sensing the shift in the air around him. This wasn't a fight for survival. This was a game… and The Death was already enjoying it.
He stepped forward deliberately, the aura around him thickening like a living shadow.
"What is your name?" His voice quivered with anticipation, almost playful.
Ryo's brow furrowed.
"You want my name?"
"Yes. Your name."
A brief silence settled between them. The wind was thick, almost tangible, laced with residual magic that made the hairs on Ryo's arms stand on end.
"I don't give my name to just anyone," Ryo said calmly.
The Death's grin widened, teeth glinting under the dark light.
"Not even to the one who's going to kill you?"
Ryo's expression remained unchanged. Calm, steady.
The Death laughed again, loud, unrestrained, almost delighted.
"You… kill me?"
He shook his head slowly, amusement flickering across his features.
"Is it a rule to be funny when entering the Black Veils, by any chance?"
Then his tone shifted abruptly. Sharper. More commanding.
"And even if you were strong enough to defeat me… I would not tell you my name.
You're not strong enough for that."
The words landed like a challenge, not an insult. Ryo felt no anger. No frustration. Just a spark. Something in him recognized it—the excitement of facing someone who truly relished the fight, who didn't flinch, who lived for this moment.
And The Death… he thrived on it.
Something ancient and unnatural stirred in him. Not hatred. Not malice. A raw, visceral thrill. A hunger for combat born not of contempt, but admiration.
…Yes.
He spread his arms slightly, letting the shadows swirl around him.
"This… this is exactly what I wanted."
The air thickened. The magic around him felt heavy, almost liquid, flowing and coiling around his body like a living thing. It pulsed, dark energy concentrating into his scythe.
The blade shimmered black-violet, alive, vibrating as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
Before Ryo could react…
A flash.
The Death vanished from his spot. The scythe cut through the air.
Ryo felt it before seeing it.
A sharp, excruciating pain ripped across his side. He stumbled back, clutching the wound. Blood ran warm and fast.
…?!
He looked up.
The Death stood some distance away, the scythe casually resting on his shoulder.
"Too slow," he said lightly, a shadow of a laugh in his voice.
Ryo's eyes narrowed. The energy around The Death had shifted. It was compressed, sharpened, honed to a lethality that made the air itself feel like a blade. There was no time for hesitation.
He lunged. The ground cracked under his feet as he propelled himself forward. His right hand ignited in a spiraling ball of black flames, twisting and unstable, yet focused, like a miniature storm ready to explode.
"HRAA!"
He struck with everything he had, a direct, brutal punch.
The Death met it with the scythe's handle. The impact shattered the calm of the clearing. A monstrous shockwave radiated outward, uprooting trees, throwing dirt, leaves, and shards of wood into the air. The sound of snapping timber echoed like distant thunder. The very air seemed to split with the force of their clash.
They pulled back simultaneously, breathing heavy, bodies tense, eyes locked.
The forest was no longer a forest. Just a battlefield. The world around them had ceased to exist. Only the two of them remained, locked in a rhythm of violence and anticipation.
The Death moved next. Not a step, not a rush—he flowed. He spun, his scythe cutting arcs of shadow that seemed to linger in the air, vibrating with intent. Ryo barely dodged, feeling the air shred next to him, the brush of death so close it left a whisper on his skin.
He countered, his own flames coiling around his arm, igniting the ground where he struck. Each movement was a clash of forces, an exchange of raw power. The earth quaked, debris flying like shrapnel with every impact.
Ryo could feel the strain. Every swing, every movement demanded focus. But there was exhilaration too—the pure, unadulterated thrill of facing an opponent who didn't fear him, who wanted to see him rise to the challenge.
The Death laughed again, low and haunting, his scythe sweeping in lethal arcs. Ryo had to anticipate every flick, every step, every microsecond of movement. One miscalculation, and the edge of the scythe could carve him apart.
Ryo's flames surged, spiraling and growing unstable, dangerous even to himself. But it was his only chance to match The Death's raw speed and precision. He struck again, a violent collision of darkness and fire that threw both combatants backward.
The clearing around them was a ruin. Tree trunks splintered, the ground torn to jagged chunks, smoke and ash swirling around like a storm caught between worlds.
Both men paused for a heartbeat, studying one another. The Death's grin never faltered. It was the grin of a predator enjoying the hunt. Ryo's expression was focused, body taut, every muscle ready for the next move.
Then…
"Enough. Stop."
The words fell like steel.
The Death froze, mid-motion. His eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his otherwise unshakable demeanor.
Kaerzan stood at the edge of the clearing, hands in his pockets, gaze unyielding.
"What?" The Death growled, irritation and surprise mingling.
"It's time to leave," Kaerzan said, voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.
"This place is far too crowded."
"I'm in the middle of a fight!" The Death protested, the edge of his scythe humming with residual power.
"Go somewhere else if you want." Kaerzan's voice rose, unyielding.
"WE'RE GOING."
A tense silence.
The Death exhaled, a long, reluctant sound. Like a child being pulled from the most thrilling toy.
"…Tch."
He cast one last glance at Ryo. Eyes bright, gleaming with promise, challenge, and a strange affection born from battle.
"Find me.
Next time… I will defeat you."
Ryo stepped forward, flames still spiraling around his fist.
"You won't leave here."
Kaerzan, already drawing a circle in the air, ignored him. A portal formed, distorted and crackling with unstable energy.
Without another word, both figures stepped through.
The portal closed behind them.
Silence reclaimed the forest.
Ryo stood still for a long moment, breathing heavily, flames dimming, eyes fixed where they had disappeared.
…The Black Veils.
This forest had narrowly escaped catastrophe.
But he knew. This was not the end.
It was a warning.
And somewhere deep in the void left behind, The Death's voice and laughter seemed to linger, promising a rematch that would burn even brighter.
Ryo clenched his fist. The echo of their clash still thrummed in his body. This was only the beginning.