Arata's breathing was heavy. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes, but his focus never wavered. His fists had slammed into the Collapse Curse over and over, yet its massive skyscraper-sized body refused to break. His arms ached, his knuckles were bloodied, and every strike left less of an impact than before.
He clicked his tongue. "Tch… fists alone won't cut it anymore."
The island groaned beneath his feet, shifting and cracking as the curse's laughter echoed like a landslide. Huge fragments of stone reformed across its body, making it look even more invincible.
Arata scanned the ruined street around him. His gaze stopped at a long, rusted steel bar jutting out from the wreckage of a collapsed mine. Without a word, he yanked it free with one hand. Dust and bits of concrete rained down as he dragged it into the open.
The bar was heavy, but in his hands it felt like nothing. He held it upright, then let cursed heat surge through his body and into the metal.
The steel began to glow red.
Then orange.
Then golden.
It sagged and shimmered like liquid, but Arata's will held it together. Slowly, he shaped it, stretching it out into a sharp point, reforging it in his grip until what remained was no longer a broken pipe, but a spear of molten heat.
The glowing weapon hummed with power, golden sparks dancing off its edge.
Arata twirled it once, the air hissing as the tip sliced through.
He muttered to himself, almost like explaining to the curse: "Weapons are designed to deliver more force than fists or kicks. All the energy in one sharp point… making the impact ten times stronger."
He pointed the glowing spear at the curse. His eyes hardened. "Let's test it."
The Collapse Curse roared and charged, each step shaking the ground. But this time, Arata didn't wait.
He dashed forward, a blur of speed, and thrust the spear straight into the curse's arm.
The moment the tip touched its stone-like skin, a glowing red line spread outward like a scar. In the next instant, the entire chunk of its forearm slid clean off, falling and crashing into the ruins below.
The curse howled, clutching its severed limb, but Arata didn't give it time. He spun, slashing horizontally. The spear sliced through its torso, leaving another glowing line. Seconds later, the massive slab of its side tumbled away, perfectly cut.
The heat from the spear burned so intensely that the cuts didn't just split—it melted, carving through the curse like butter.
For the first time since it had grown, Arata saw the curse truly bleed cursed energy, spraying like black smoke.
Arata pressed the assault. He thrust the spear into its leg, cutting a deep vertical line that split the limb apart. He slashed again and again, every movement precise, every strike clean. With each cut, the curse's towering body shrank, pieces falling away like a collapsing skyscraper.
But then—something changed.
The Collapse Curse's glowing red eyes narrowed. Its movements stopped being sluggish and instinctive. Instead, they grew sharper, calculated.
It raised both arms, and instead of swinging directly at Arata, it slammed them into the ground.
The entire island shifted.
Suddenly, thick walls of stone rose around the curse, wrapping over its body like armor. Chunks of collapsed buildings and even coal mine shafts burst upward from the ground, layering onto its form until it was hidden behind a fortress of rubble.
Arata clicked his tongue. "So now you're covering yourself…"
He dashed forward, slashing the walls apart with his spear. Each cut sent showers of molten fragments raining down. But every time he cleared one layer, another rose up to shield the curse again.
This slowed him down.
The curse took advantage.
Its massive fist burst through the rubble unexpectedly, slamming toward Arata. He barely twisted away, the blow grazing his side and blasting him across the ruins. He rolled, gritting his teeth as blood trickled from his mouth.
The curse let out a sound as if laughing.
Arata pushed himself up, spinning the spear to steady his stance. His body screamed, but his eyes glowed hotter than ever.
He rushed again, thrusting straight through the rubble shield, forcing his spear deep into the curse's chest. The heat flared, melting through layers of stone, burning into its core. The curse screamed in pain, its massive body convulsing.
But this time, instead of retreating, it did something unexpected.
It leaned forward—pressing into the spear willingly.
Arata's eyes widened.
The weapon drove deeper, carving massive damage into its chest. But while Arata was locked into the strike, the curse's arms surged from the ground, manipulating the ruins around them.
The island itself began to fold.
Walls, streets, and foundations all rose together, crashing inward to form a dome. A massive shell of rubble, coal, and steel bent overhead, sealing Arata inside like a tomb.
The Curse let out a triumphant roar.
The dome tightened, layers closing in on him. It was meant to crush him alive, grind him into dust beneath the weight of the island itself.
From the outside, the curse looked satisfied. Its eyes glowed bright, its guttural laugh echoing across the battlefield. To it, Arata was nothing more than broken bones inside a cage of stone.
But inside the dome… something else was happening.
The air began to shimmer.
The ground started glowing red.
The temperature spiked so suddenly that even the curse paused.
Arata stood in the centre, spear in hand, his body radiating unbearable heat.
The walls pressed in closer, the dome ready to crush him—
—but Arata's voice cut through the suffocating space. Calm. Cold.
"Let's end this."
And then the heat erupted.