Ryuusei felt his breathing become erratic. It wasn't just fatigue from the previous battle, nor was it the adrenaline that had driven him on. It was something heavier, more oppressive. It was fear.
A frozen emptiness had settled in his chest, a weight that made each breath difficult, a panic that made him feel as if the air were thick and his heart were beating with desperate urgency, as if it wanted to escape from his rib cage. His body refused to obey. Not because of exhaustion. No, it was because of the certainty that he was facing something that defied reason.
Death, tired of this game of cat and mouse, had first sent the beast, an abomination that devoured everything in its path, a nightmare incarnate in flesh and despair. And now... now, it had sent a being that was not a beast, but the personification of annihilation.
The Herald of Death.
The confirmation that everything must end. The final sentence had been passed, and there was no escape.
The Herald did not utter a word. He issued no judgment or warning. He simply advanced with absolute calm, the dark sword raised in his hands. His walk was slow, relentless, as if destiny were already written on the scorched ground, as if Ryuusei were already dead. And perhaps he was.
Some brave souls, driven by a last desperate hope, tried to confront him. They didn't last a second. A single movement, a sharp slash through the air, and they fell lifeless before they could touch the ground. The Herald's sword didn't just cut flesh; it cut hope, the will to live, the very essence of their souls. They were ghosts before they fell.
Ryuusei saw it all. He felt death dancing around him, and with his heart pounding in his ears, his legs finally responded. He lunged to the side, feeling the scythe whistle through the air and graze his hair. Before the Herald could react, he activated his teleportation daggers and reappeared behind him.
With a guttural cry, a mixture of rage and desperation, he swung his war hammers with all his might, aiming at the armor black as night. Death had given him his weapons, had given him his hammers and daggers, and he hoped they would be enough.
And then, the Herald simply turned his head. Two glowing orbs shone behind his helmet, inhuman, devoid of any emotion. With a movement that bordered on laziness, the Herald reached out an arm and caught Ryuusei in midair, his hammers still suspended in the futility of the attack.
Then he threw it away with the ease of someone discarding something worthless. As if it were a fly. As if its existence meant nothing.
The impact against the ground knocked the wind out of him. The world spun in a whirlwind of dust and blood as he rolled across the ground. His body burned with pain he couldn't even measure. He tried to sit up, but his arms trembled. He coughed and felt warm blood on his tongue. His senses were overwhelmed. The metallic taste of blood, the smell of earth and death, the distant sound of battle.
The Herald's footsteps echoed, slow, steady, relentless. Ryuusei tried to get up. His body did not respond. It wasn't just the wound. It was fear. Ryuusei's vision blurred. His heart beat irregularly. An icy emptiness tightened his chest. His hands were drenched in his own blood, and his gaze, once full of fire, now reflected only suffocating panic.
I'm going to die.
Not as a hero. Not as a legendary warrior. Not as someone who fought to the end. No. I'm just... going to die.
The Herald paused. His black sword, raised above him, did not descend. He did not end the trial immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if he had just noticed something, something familiar. His gaze fell on Ryuusei's weapons. The war hammers and teleportation daggers. The Celestial Weapons.
His eyes flashed with a cold light, a shadow of recognition. Then, without changing his impassive expression, he turned his head toward the horizon. The darkness itself seemed to writhe at that point, as if something beyond human understanding was watching from the blackness.
A whisper escaped the Herald's lips. Guttural, ancient words that did not belong to this world, a sound that only Ryuusei could hear, and even though he did not understand what the words meant, he felt that they were not meant for him.
And then, with the same calmness with which he had arrived, he lowered his sword. He turned one last time toward Ryuusei, and without even deigning to pronounce a verdict, sat down a few meters away. And with his finger, he drew a circle on the ground.
Death had to be informed. The Herald had a message to deliver.
And Ryuusei... Ryuusei still didn't understand why he was still alive.