A single move was about to decide the winner of that battle.
Both stepped back at the same time, tense, measuring the distance with almost instinctive precision.
The moment sharpened between them like an invisible blade destined to cut the fate of one.
Dust rose beneath their feet, swirling in restless spirals, as if the earth itself feared witnessing what was about to happen.
Their breaths were short. Heavy. Restrained.
Rage burned.
Determination weighed heavily.
And then their gazes collided.
It wasn't a simple meeting of eyes.
It was a spark.
A silent pact that said: this ends here, even if neither was willing to be the one who fell.
Both adjusted the strength in their wrists and arms. Their muscles tightened like strings about to snap.
And at the same time, they advanced.
—Blood Roar!
—Crimson Dance!
The shouts erupted in unison, tearing through the air as if summoning something older than themselves.
Akira's katana began to move in a sequence of explosive combos.
It wasn't a simple sword style: it was a deadly choreography.
Each slash generated reddish flashes that vibrated at a frequency capable of cracking the stone beneath their feet.
His body danced with the blade. He spun. Vanished. Reappeared.
Time itself seemed to fracture around him.
Agnitus responded with pure force.
Each strike of his gauntlets detonated shockwaves that exploded mere inches from Akira's body, pulverizing buildings behind him and tearing at the atmosphere itself. The air screamed. The earth trembled.
But Akira evaded.
By minimal margins.
By breaths.
By instants so brief they seemed like miracles.
He left behind traces of crimson light that evaporated like hot smoke.
Speed was his faith.
His pride.
His desperate gamble.
And even so...
Agnitus blocked.
Deflected.
Countered.
Always.
As if Akira's movements were already written in some divine book that only he could read.
As if he had lived this very battle a hundred times before, and this was merely the inevitable repetition.
It was a clash of philosophies.
The ferocity of speed against the immovability of absolute strength.
And neither yielded.
Their bodies began to show the price.
The katana left red lines across Agnitus's torso.
His claws tore through Akira's shoulder and side.
Blood fell to the ground, sizzling against the hot stone like burning droplets sealing a brutal ritual.
In a fierce instant, Agnitus tensed his arm and threw a punch that barely grazed Akira's face.
Barely.
But it was enough.
The hero's left eye split open in a thin cut, and a thread of blood slowly descended down his cheek.
Akira clicked his teeth.
Pain exploded inside his skull like a tiny star forced into ignition.
And that very flame pushed him forward.
He moved the katana with such speed that it vanished from sight for a breath... and reappeared piercing Agnitus's right thigh.
The sound was dry.
Raw.
Final.
But Agnitus did not retreat.
He did not scream.
He did not hesitate.
He lowered his gaze to the blade embedded in his flesh and, without wavering, grabbed it with his bare hand. Blood poured between his fingers, but his grip was monstrous.
The metal screeched.
Protested.
Refused to move.
Akira tried to pull it out.
He couldn't.
—Now it's my turn... —Agnitus murmured.
It wasn't a threat.
It was a sentence.
He drew back his right fist. The concentrated energy made the surrounding rubble vibrate. Cracks spread across the ground like dark roots.
That punch was going to decide everything.
But then—
A brutal impact.
A flash.
A roar.
Agnitus was sent flying as if the air itself had struck him. He crashed against a nearby wall, and the collision made the entire ground tremble.
The katana was expelled from his leg with a wet snap.
Dust covered everything.
When the cloud began to dissipate, Agnitus was still standing.
Swaying.
Bleeding.
But firm.
A wounded tower.
A beast refusing to fall.
He lifted his gaze.
Akira was no longer alone.
At his side stood another young man.
Bright blond hair. Muscular build. Black gauntlets crossed by golden lines that pulsed like sacred circuits.
The air around him was charged.
Not metaphorically.
Electricity hung suspended, as if lightning were holding its breath before striking.
His aura was different.
More stable.
Heavier.
—Hey, Akira —he said in an almost casual tone, as if they weren't surrounded by ruins— didn't our Lady Goddess tell us to go to the church of the human capital? Not to show up and fight anyone we run into. Look at you... you're bleeding from your left eye. Looks like you were in trouble. We should leave before the Goddess gets angry.
Akira wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, frustrated.
He looked at Agnitus one last time.
—Fine, Takahiro... let's go.
He picked up his katana from the ground and pointed at Agnitus.
—Hey, you. I'll remember your face. When I see you again, we'll finish this battle. So don't you dare die.
Agnitus held his gaze.
Without blinking.
Without lowering his head.
With a silent promise made of pride and fire.
And with an electric whisper, both heroes disappeared.
The stillness that remained was brutal.
Shattered buildings.
Cracked stone.
Burned air.
And Agnitus, breathing heavily in the midst of devastation.
There was no victor.
Only a pause.
A demon soldier, covered in dust and with scratched armor, approached cautiously. He placed a trembling hand on Agnitus's shoulder.
—Hey... young warrior. We're going back to demon territory. We'll use a portal that will take us near the city where the Demon King is now. If you want... you can come with us.
Agnitus blinked, surprised.
He nodded with a heavy exhale.
—Really... thank you. I'd like to come with you.
The soldier smiled.
For a moment, the war seemed less cruel.
"End of transition."
The floating window closed.
The room returned to silence.
Kael released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His heart gradually slowed, as if he himself had been crossing fists and blades.
—System... do you know who the other hero was?
"The hero who intervened to leave the battle in a draw is Ren Takahiro, known as the Thunder Fist Hero."
Kael frowned.
—I see... and those gloves? Those weapons? How did they obtain them?
"The weapons are granted by the Goddess who summoned them. No one else can use them. Only those she has blessed.
Just as you were chosen by the System. Only you can see or hear me."
Kael blinked.
—So... you're my weapon?
There was a brief silence.
"I don't know if I am your weapon. But in practical terms... yes."
Another notification appeared.
"System Notification: you have risen to Rank E.
New Title: Newborn Fang.
Activated Benefits:
Your physical attacks apply additional tearing.
You can cause bleeding even with blunt weapons.
Cost: your wounds will take longer to close."
Kael stared at the information for a few seconds.
—Ah... of course. Because in my life nothing can be completely good, right?
The system did not respond.
And just as the silence began to settle, the massive door of the room slowly started to open.
The hinges emitted a deep, heavy sound.
Kael turned his head.
The shadow cast from the hallway was long.
Too long.