"You talk too much," a cold, detached voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Wrath didn't have to turn to know who it was.
No.1 stood behind him, battered but defiant, his eyes burning with grim resolve.
Wrath smirked. "I'm Wrath for a reason."
In an instant, his body twisted with precision. His left leg swept backward in a blur, coiling around No.1's left leg like a vice. Then, with a sharp pivot, he locked the knee in place.
CRACK!
Both of them collapsed to the ground with force, but only one was in control.
No.1 groaned. His leg was trapped—snapped at the joint—immobile.
Wrath crouched over him, breathing calmly, as if this was just another dance step.
"Let me free you," he whispered with a sinister grin.
SWISH—THUD!
A clean slash echoed across the battlefield. Blood sprayed in a violent arc, and No.1's lower leg hit the ground with a dull, final thump.
Time slowed.
No.1's mouth opened, but the scream never came. Instead, Wrath moved faster, grabbing him by the throat with one arm and lifting him like a weightless doll.
The grip tightened.
Slowly. Deliberately.
"I'll make you suffer," Wrath said, his voice like gravel soaked in malice.
"You both die here. Right now."
No.1's remaining leg kicked weakly. His arms twitched. The lack of air was beginning to claim him.
Wrath leaned in. "Die here, you piece of—"
"UNCLEEEEE!"
The scream came from a girl's voice—young, desperate, trembling.
Wrath's gaze flicked to the side.
A boy was sprinting toward him. Dust kicked up in waves beneath his frantic footsteps. Rage burned in his eyes.
Wrath scoffed. "Too late. He'll be dead before you—"
SLICE!
His words were severed by the same fate as his limb.
His left hand dropped to the ground in silence, followed by a warm spray of blood that misted the air.
Wrath's eyes widened. For a moment, the pain didn't register—just shock.
Then his gaze slowly moved to the source.
No.2.
He stood a few meters away, panting, steam rising faintly from his arm like smoke off molten steel.
Wrath's expression darkened. "So… you woke up."
No.2 stared at him, hollow-eyed. "Yeah. You're not killing him… I will."
Wrath narrowed his eyes. "You copied Rinka's Ring of Fire, didn't you?"
No.2 gave a small nod. "Exactly."
No.1 lay unconscious now, his body limp and soaked in blood, his chest rising and falling just barely.
Fallen finally reached him, skidding to a stop at his side. "Dad! Dad, wake up! Please—wake up!"
Wrath stepped back, dodging the wild punch Fallen threw in pure emotion.
With effortless grace, he glided back, creating space between them. "Kiddo… he won't wake up that easily."
Fallen's eyes gleamed bright red—like a curse awakened from blood.
"I'll kill you," he growled.
Wrath raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. "My, my. So now it's 1v3?"
He smirked.
"What do you think I am—Gojo?"
---
Flashback — Wrath's Past
A world of whiteness.
Young Wrath—barely seven—stood amidst swirling fog and broken voices.
"MONSTER!"
"HELP US!!"
"Noooo!"
"Take the kids first!"
The echoes didn't make sense. They all blurred into a sea of panic.
Suddenly, color seeped into the white. Red. Yellow. Brown. Fear.
In front of him, two trembling figures stood tall—his parents.
His mother knelt down, placing her hands on his shoulders.
"Run," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Run far away. We'll come back to you. We promise."
Young Wrath wanted to believe it.
He turned and ran.
But then—blood.
Bright. Vivid. Horrifying.
Everywhere.
Soaking into the ground, dripping from what remained of bodies.
And the last thing he saw before the red fog claimed his vision—was a face.
No.2's.
Eyes sharp. Watching.
Wrath's voice cracked.
"MOM! DAD! NOOOOOO!"
---
Back to Present
Wrath's eyes had changed.
No longer playful. No longer mocking.
Now they burned with hatred. Raw. Untamed.
His fists clenched at his sides, trembling with emotion and rage.
"You…" he snarled.
His voice was lower now—colder than death.
"You… will all die."
A growl erupted from his throat as he took one step forward.
"Everyone related to him…" he pointed a trembling finger at No.2, "will DIE by my hands."
Fallen stared at him, his red eyes unblinking. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the storm brewing inside him.
The ground cracked beneath their feet.
Wrath's killing intent flooded the air like poison.
The war wasn't over.
It was just beginning.
---
Chapter Ends