The initial shockwave still reverberated through the grand hall, rattling the palace foundations. Dust and debris rained from the ceiling.
'How is this possible? How is he this strong after his body was affected by the cursed knife?'
Kaito was defeated, his body shuddering as he struggled to breathe. Shards of crystal from the shattered windows continued to fall as flames began to lick at the palace.
"This is where it ends."
"Don't make a fool of yourself, brat."
Kaito spat blood and lunged at Saturu with his full power. The air crackled, thick with violent energy and the promise of death.
Saturu blurred—a crimson streak. Before Kaito could blink, his hands were gone, severed clean at the wrists.
"GYAAAA!"
The scream tore from Kaito's throat as his sword clattered to the floor, forgotten in the rising pool of his own blood. He forced his head up, trembling, to meet Saturu's piercing red eyes.
"What have you become?" Kaito wheezed, his voice breaking. "This isn't human... it's monstrous."
Saturu stepped closer, the rhythm of his boots muffled by the gore. A streak of Kaito's blood marked his cheek.
---
Nozashi, who had been smiling leisurely and plotting his next escape, froze.
"So that weakling Kaito gave his crown to you?" Saturu taunted, his voice a low, guttural growl that cut through the chaos.
"Who said that?" Nozashi did not recognize the voice.
"That just makes this better. It means I get to erase his entire legacy in one night."
From the shadows, Saturu appeared, his red eyes glowing. A chill crawled up Nozashi's spine. His face, pale and slick with sweat, was a mask of rage and disbelief. He realized the voice was Saturu's.
"How dare you speak to me like that!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
A grim, almost imperceptible smile touched Saturu's lips. With a brutal, contemptuous kick, he launched the decapitated head of Lord Kaito.
It slid wetly across the blood-slicked marble, rolling to a final, staring rest at Nozashi's feet.
The sight sucked all sound from the room, leaving only the pounding rain.
"So this is your revenge, huh?" Nozashi whispered, his voice trembling with horror, grief, and fury. He tore his gaze from his brother's dead eyes and fixed it on Saturu.
"No," Saturu said, his voice a flat, dead sound. "This is justice."
A violent, dark yellow aura erupted from Nozashi's body.
"Now you die, brother."
Nozashi's form changed. His blond hair turned stark white, his skin grayed, and his eyes became solid black with yellow pupils. Inky lines etched themselves from his eyes down his throat.
The air around him shimmered with intense heat, warping the light. He became a yellow comet of pure hatred, charging at Saturu with every ounce of his being, sword held high for a final, desperate strike.
Saturu didn't move. He stood his ground, a statue of calm. As Nozashi reached him, a blur of dark yellow energy, Saturu's left hand shot out with impossible speed.
He caught his brother's face mid-charge, fingers digging into his cheek with brutal force.
The impact sent deep cracks spiderwebbing across the marble floor. With a contemptuous twist of his wrist, he slammed Nozashi headfirst into the nearest stone pillar.
GAH!
The impact was thunderous, sending stone fragments flying like shrapnel. Nozashi crumpled, dazed and bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead.
"Nozashi," Saturu said, his voice chillingly calm. He looked down as one might examine an insect. "Last time, I left a scar on your face. A reminder of your failure. Now... this will be the last."
Enraged and humiliated, Nozashi pushed himself up, using his sword as a crutch. Blood streamed into his eye, painting half his world red. With a raw, wordless scream, he speed-blitzed toward Saturu once more, sword aimed in a wild, killing arc.
In the space between heartbeats, something impossible happened. A subtle shift in the air, a whisper of displaced space.
Then, Nozashi's sword arm was tumbling through the air, severed cleanly at the shoulder. A fountain of arterial blood erupted, painting the nearby silks and shattered finery a gruesome crimson.
KYAHHH!
Nozashi fell to his knees, a scream of pure agony tearing from his throat. His wide, horrified eyes focused on Saturu's pristine blade, his own blood already dripping from its flawless edge.
"When did he—?!" he gasped.
"Your scream," Saturu remarked, his voice an unnerving monotone, "it brings back terrible memories. Memories I had long buried."
Terror finally overrode his pride. Scrambling backward, Nozashi turned and fled, clutching the bloody stump of his shoulder. He stumbled through a servant's passage, breath coming in ragged sobs.
'I must run... I must survive. How? How did that brat become... this?'
He burst onto a high balcony. Below, a chaotic mass of people evacuated the palace in blind panic.
In his escape, he began cutting down anyone in his path, servant and guard alike, creating a bloody corridor through the chaos.
"You fear death like it's not going to catch up to you," Saturu's voice echoed from directly behind him, calm and relentless.
"It's useless to run. You are only prolonging the inevitable."
Saturu moved through the carnage with eerie, dispassionate grace, his feet never touching the corpses in his path.
Desperate, Nozashi spotted a young maid frozen in terror against a wall. He lunged, his remaining arm hooking around her neck, his blood-slicked blade pressed to her throat.
"Stay back!" he shrieked, his voice cracking. "You can't do this to me! We are brothers!"
"We were never brothers." Saturu's jaw tightened, his eyes glowing predatory red.
Nozashi's face drained of color from the murderous intent Saturu emitted.
"I'll kill her! Do you hear me?!"
"Do you think," Saturu challenged, never breaking his slow advance, "that I won't end you because you're coward enough to use a hostage? That her life holds any value in this equation?"
"How dare you call me a coward!!"Nozashi screamed and swung his sword at the maid's throat.
The blade never connected. In that exact instant, a purple flash cut the air. Nozashi's other arm and his head were cleanly severed in one fluid motion.
His head hit the rain-soaked stones with a wet thud, rolling to a stop at the maid's feet, its expression locked in a rictus of fury and shock.
The maid, released, stood frozen. Then, in sheer primal terror, she acted on instinct. She picked up Nozashi's fallen sword with trembling hands and pointed it at Saturu.
But she was wounded, shaking uncontrollably. The overwhelming pressure of his presence made the blade waver and dip. Any movement felt like it would be her last. Her legs gave out.
She collapsed to the cold, wet stone, one arm bleeding where Nozashi's grip had torn her skin.
Saturu looked down, his red eyes seeming to see through her soul. His aura pressed down like a physical weight.
He walked closer, each step measured and final, the Divine Blade rising in his hand.
In her terrified, pleading eyes, an image surfaced from his past life—a moment centuries ago when he, too, had been helpless and broken, facing annihilation. The vision lasted only a single, shared heartbeat.
The sound of a single, clean slash cut through the rain.
"Shiing!"
Saturu stood over her for a long moment, his expression an unreadable mask, the storm raging around him as the last of the Vermillion clan was wiped from the map.