The wind reeked of blood and silence—the kind of silence that only follows when a God makes a mistake too great to unmake.
—SOMEWHERE ON A DISTANT PLANET—
The wind carried the scent of death—a metallic tang that clawed at Ishiro's senses like rusted chains. He stood motionless, head bowed, as if the weight of unseen eyes bore down on his soul.
"Why…"
The word fell from his lips like broken glass—quiet, trembling, swallowed by the silence that blanketed the scorched land. His hands hung before him, trembling. Once radiant with destiny's divine flame, they now dripped crimson. Not from war—but from slaughter.
"Why did you command this?"
The question shattered the stillness. No voice answered. No divine whisper. Only the cruel hush of judgment. Blood spilled between his fingers, painting his palms red. His voice cracked as his knees bent beneath the invisible weight.
"To the innocent… to those who trusted their fate to me… I…"
The words refused to finish themselves. He lowered himself to the earth, the ash curling around his form like a mourning shroud.
"Please… forgive me."
A breeze stirred—cold, uncaring. It peeled away the veil of soot to reveal what lay beneath:
Carnage.
Innumerable bodies, twisted and broken. Faces frozen in terror. Hands still reaching for salvation that never came. The vibrant city they once called home now stood in ruin—its once-proud towers reduced to skeletal claws grasping at a wrathful sky. Ishiro's glowing eyes dimmed like dying stars. He rose to one knee, his breath ragged, and stared at the sea of the dead.
"This wasn't destiny…"
His voice was low. Bitter.
"This wasn't balance. It was massacre."
The storm above roared, jagged lightning ripping across a blood-colored sky. He raised his face to it, eyes unblinking.
"Is this what it means to serve you?"
His voice climbed. Stronger now. Sharper.
"To carry the weight of every atrocity committed in your name?"
His divine energy trembled—writhing around him in violent spirals. The air grew heavy. The planet beneath him groaned under the strain.
Fists clenched. Blood flaked dry against his skin.
"Is this what I am? A god baptized in the blood of the faithful?"
He dropped to his knees, fists cracking against the ground as his voice turned hoarse, broken.
"Tell me…"
He stared at his reflection in the crimson pool before him—eyes glowing, face hollowed by grief.
"Is this my destiny?"
A pause.
"Or is it yours?"
And the storm above—godless, voiceless—raged on.
—THE GAUNTLET OF TIMELESS —
The amalgamations advanced—towering testaments to forgotten divinity.
Twisted limbs fused from relics of old gods. Mouths where no mouths should be. Weapons not wielded, but grown. They moved with impossible weight—like crumbling monuments still clinging to the memory of purpose.
Xenos cracked his neck, fire licking the corners of his grin.
"Let's put 'em out of their misery."
Union didn't respond. Her gaze locked on the creatures with surgical precision, hands raised—space itself beginning to ripple and coil like molten glass around her fingers. Her voice came cool, laced with a strategist's edge.
"They're unstable. Cracked relics bound by failed glory. I'll collapse the ground beneath them—making sure to keep them off balance. When they stagger… burn them to nothing."
Xenos let out a dry laugh, the flames igniting around his fists.
"Talkin' like me now."
"Why not," Union replied, her aura tightening.
"We're going to make this look easy."
Then—a voice boomed through reality.
"Please…"
Above — The Gods Watch
The divine balcony trembled.
Not from combat.
But from something colder.
Older.
Wrong.
A hum slithered across the marble, low and wet—like flesh whispering across bone. The temperature dropped as the air thickened with unseen pressure. And then—
He appeared.
Asano. The God of Torment.
He didn't walk. He emerged.
One foot perched on the edge of the balcony rail like a predator testing gravity.
Wherever he stepped, the ground cracked and festered—not from force, but rejection.
Reality itself shrank away from him.
His smile curved up like a blade.
"Eres was right. Don't let a few abominations of mine—get you overconfident." Asano said as traced his hand along the celestial railing—turning it into a dark husk.
"But I must say… I grow much interest in seeing you two squirm like peasants. Let's not stop now. I want to see which of them screams first."
Takagi's silver eyes flicked toward him, unblinking.
"Of course. The show just got interesting."
Asano tilted his head sharply—his grin sharpened, wolfish.
He stepped. In a blink, he was nose-to-nose with Takagi.
The divine wind stilled. Even the Crucible paused to listen.
But Takagi didn't flinch.
"Oh? Is that sarcasm I hear from the King's favorite?"
"Tell me, Time keeper… what do you think I'd find if I peeled back your soul, thread by thread? Your fondest memory?
The first time you felt the need to shed blood?
Or maybe… the moment you decided to stop feeling anything at all?"
Unagi didn't move. Eres didn't blink.
But both watched closely.
Takagi held Asano's gaze. Still. Cold. Measured.
And then—he smiled.
Not warm.
Not amused.
Just… sharp.
"If my words alone rattle you this much, Asano… then a fight's the last thing you want."
Asano's smile widened into something inhuman.
"Try me."
Neither aura flared.
Neither blinked.
But in that heartbeat—the gods watching felt the tension claw up their spines.
Then—
From below, a cleaver the size of a siege tower roared through the air, hurtling toward Xenos with a howling shriek.
Takagi's eyes flicked downward, breaking eye contact.
"Looks like it's your lucky day."
He turned back to Asano, smirking like a knife that chose not to cut.
"I'll pause the moment of your death… for now. I'd like to admire my Protégés."
Below — The Battlefield Erupts
The cleaver slammed into the mirrored ground—but missed.
Xenos twisted mid-air, fire exploding from his feet as he landed behind the amalgamation.
"Creepy. From a god to a meat puppet."
Union's hands weaved through the air, her aura flaring like glass tearing in space.
"Destabilizing now. Get ready."
The ground beneath the amalgamations shimmered—then fractured, then collapsed.
Jagged shards spiraled upward like a broken starfield as the creatures stumbled.
Xenos charged, flames bursting outward in a lion's roar.
The nearest amalgamation swung its hammer—a glowing arc of molten divinity.
Xenos ducked beneath it mid-dash, twisting with impossible fluidity.
"Let's dance, graveyard."
His uppercut struck true—divine flame colliding with broken core.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the amalgam's chest, and with a single pulse, it exploded outward in a blast of light and rot. Before the shards hit the ground, Xenos was already moving—his fists a blur of controlled detonations. He struck three more amalgamations in a fury of flame-coated combos. Each one collapsed like cursed monuments finally given permission to fall.
"Phew…"
He spun, flames coiling around his shoulders.
"Let's rack up some more."
As if he summoned them himself—more amalgamations rose.
From the fissures in the glass they came—groaning monuments of failure and rage.
Limbs fused with rusted halberds. Spines stitched together from the corpses of lesser deities. Their auras bled corruption, each step a threat to reality.
But Xenos didn't falter.
His eyes narrowed, the fire around his body tightening—not wild, but disciplined. A furnace sealed behind divine will.
"Let's end this."
He moved.
One step—then a flicker.
Then he was gone.
A blink later, he reappeared mid-air—fists blazing like miniature suns, his silhouette framed by a storm of fire.
He dove headfirst into the first wave, spinning as he descended, his body twisting in perfect momentum.
A flaming wheel kick shattered the skull of the lead amalgamation.
A mid-air twist, and he drove his elbow into the next, compressing heat so tightly that the creature burst inward, its core caving like a dying star.
Another leapt.
Xenos grabbed its throat mid-lunge, spun, and slammed it into the mirrored ground with such force the battlefield rippled—a shockwave shattering everything within fifty meters. Before the creature could recover, he pressed a hand to its chest and whispered:
"Burn."
A nova erupted—concentrated flame turning the amalgamation into molten ash, its scream ending before it began.
Two more charged. Xenos raised his hand. A wall of fire curved mid-air, slicing through both like a divine guillotine. Their bodies fell apart in perfect silence.
Then—he landed.
No sound but his breath.
Around him, the shattered husks of divine failure crumbled to ash. A single breeze carried their remains into the void.
He didn't grin this time.
He exhaled—and closed his eyes.
—FLASHBACK — THE CALM WITHIN THE CHAOS—
The world was quiet.
The training ground shimmered in soft silver light, stars barely pulsing above. Xenos and Union stood opposite Takagi in the Hall of Still Waters—where no sound echoed, and no thought could hide.
Takagi walked slowly between them, his voice like water over steel.
"Everyone talks about being fearless. That's nonsense."
He turned, facing them both.
"Even gods feel fear. Doubt. Nervousness. But those feelings don't weaken you… unless you pretend they're not there."
He tapped his own chest.
"Fear is fuel. Nervousness is a signal. The calm you seek doesn't mean emptiness—it means focus."
He raised his hand slowly.
A fireball formed—small, flickering. Then it pulsed once and stilled.
"This is what true calm looks like. Controlled combustion. A storm with direction. You don't need to fight your fear. You just need to breathe with it."
Xenos frowned, his hands twitching slightly.
"But when everything's moving so fast—when you're in it—you don't think. You just… react."
Takagi smiled faintly.
"Then make your reactions divine. Use your fear to sharpen your instincts. Use your nerves to anchor your timing. Let your emotions move through you—but never move YOU.
He stepped forward—so close they could feel the presence in his words.
"A god isn't calm because he feels nothing.
A god is calm because he masters everything he feels."
—BACK TO THE PRESENT—
Xenos opened his eyes.
Around him, the battlefield was silent—his flames casting quiet light over fallen echoes of once-glorious beings. His breathing was steady. His hands still.
He was centered.
"I'm not just stronger now…"
He raised his hand, and his flames didn't roar—they obeyed.
"I'm focused."
From the horizon, the ground cracked again. But this time, Xenos stood taller.
And Union, watching from afar, knew—
He had finally stopped fighting like a mortal.
He was moving like a god.
Meanwhile, Union faced an amalgamation of her own.
Towering and grotesque—its flesh its arms a writhing nest of serrated blades, each one jagged and pulsing with fractured divine energy.
It didn't walk. It charged, carving through the mirrored ground like a living guillotine. Each step thundered like the heartbeat of a dying world.
But Union didn't retreat.
She stood centered.
Still.
Measured.
Her hands rose—not with panic, but purpose. In a breath, she summoned a spiral of folding portals, weaving them mid-air with godlike speed.
The creature struck.
Its blades came screaming in from all directions.
One. Two. Three—
Each vanished into her portals—only to reappear behind it, carving into its own twisted spine and shoulders.
It roared—not in pain, but in frustration.
Its movements grew frantic. Uncoordinated. Desperate.
But Union's voice cut through its rage—calm and lethal.
"Flailing won't save you."
She let the last portal close, stepping into a new stance—low guard, back foot raised, weight forward.
A position of absolute control.
The amalgamation lunged again.
Nine blades.
Each one aimed not for her body—but for her rhythm.
They struck like traps—not to kill, but to corner. To break her flow.
But Union's flow couldn't be broken.
She ducked the first strike.
Pivoted under the second.
Rolled sideways, her shoulder slipping between two converging blades as if space bent to accommodate her.
Her footwork became a dance of inevitability—each step avoiding death by millimeters.
Every movement was efficient. Calculated. Divine.
The final blade came in fast—too fast.
But she didn't stop it.
She guided it—her palm gently redirecting its arc as her body curved around the attack.
And then—she countered.
Her hip twisted. Her stance dropped.
URAKEN.
Her backfist screamed through the air, accelerated by gravitational distortion, and struck the creature's core.
CRACK-THHHHHUUUUMMMM!!
The force detonated outward like a collapsing star—blowing open the amalgam's chest, black ichor spraying across the battlefield.
The creature reeled back, shrieking, limbs flailing in broken spirals.
From above, Takagi's gaze narrowed.
He didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
There was something beyond admiration in the way he watched her.
Respect.
Resonance.
Recognition.
Not many had ever impressed Takagi Akuma.
But Union—she was becoming exceptional.
"That timing…" he murmured, so low only the gods beside him heard.
"She didn't react.
She commanded."
Back below—Union leapt backward, planting her heel on a floating shard of broken ground.
She snapped her fingers.
The air folded in on itself. Gravity screamed. A vortex spiraled into being, space collapsing into a single jagged point beneath the amalgamation's feet.
It struggled—blades flailing wildly as it tried to reverse its weight. But it was too late. The black hole took hold.
Union's eyes didn't blink. Her hand rose like a judge passing sentence.
With a flick of her wrist—
The vortex imploded.
The amalgamation was shredded into glimmering particles, its screams lost in the silence of annihilation.
Union exhaled, steady.
"One more."
But in Takagi's mind, only one thought echoed:
"She's not one of them anymore… She's one of us."
She turned to see Xenos locked in combat with the final amalgamation, its massive axe cleaving through the air like a falling star. Xenos ducked, his movements precise, flames surging with each attack.
"You've got quite the temper I see. Let me help with that!"
Xenos stood firm, his bare hands expertly deflecting the Amalgamation's powerful swings with a fluid, almost effortless precision.
The Amalgamation wasn't done.
It roared, struggling to rise—its jaw cracked, half its mask-like face caved in from the kick. But Xenos didn't wait. He was already moving.
Like fire unchained.
He charged with explosive force, his aura flaring outward like a wildfire. His fists moved in violent arcs—wide, ruthless, erratic—but every strike hurt. Badly.
The creature raised its axe—
Too slow.
Xenos ducked beneath the swing, the air splitting above his head as the axe roared past. Time seemed to slow.
He surged upward, his elbow coiled in flame—
and struck.
The blow landed square beneath the creature's ribcage, and for a split second, it was as if reality cracked.
The impact rippled inward—x-ray vision flashing across the Amalgamation's monstrous frame.
Its twisted skeleton, a lattice of fused god-bone and black iron, shuddered violently.
Flame flooded through the seams like molten lava through glass.
Several ribs fractured on impact—not just broken, but splintered into superheated shards that stabbed inward toward its core.
Xenos didn't stop.
Using the recoil, he pivoted with brutal efficiency—his opposite hand igniting as it shot forward.
A blazing palm strike rocketed upward, smashing into the Amalgamation's chin.
The mandible cracked first.
Then the flame traveled through the neck like a wireline detonation, bursting through nerve clusters, vaporizing tissue.
Inside its skull, bone flared red like iron in a forge, and what passed for its brain—a twisted mass of divine remnants—exploded in a miniature firestorm, cracks spidering through its horned crown.
The Amalgamation's head snapped back with a thunderclap.
Flame burst from its ears, eyes, and mouth like it had swallowed a star.
The creature collapsed mid-roar, its voice cut short by its own collapsing spine.
Xenos stood still, fist smoking, the platform beneath his feet glowing with heat. It reeled back, sparks flying from its shattered mouth—but Xenos followed like a predator that smelled blood.
"What's wrong? You were louder a minute ago!"
He pivoted low and blasted a hook into its kneecap, then slammed his knee into its gut, igniting an explosion of fire point-blank that launched the creature into the air.
And still, he wasn't finished.
Xenos launched after it—mid-air—and drove his fist into its chest like a meteor, sending the amalgamation spiraling down, crashing through three platforms before skidding into a pile of broken glass and charred metal.
He landed hard, breathing heavily, sweat mixing with soot and flickering embers clinging to his face.
His voice was low. Controlled.
"Stay down."
From afar, Union watched, catching her breath. Her eyes narrowed—not in judgment—but in recognition.
He was stronger.
Faster.
Scarier.
"He's changing…"
There was no longer hesitation in his strikes. No panic. No indecision.
"That wasn't instinct," she murmured. "That was fury given form."
Above, Unagi had said nothing through most of the trial, arms crossed, gaze sharp.
But now—he finally spoke.
"Hmph…"
His eyes never left Xenos as the young man stood tall, shoulders rising and falling with the heat still smoking from his skin.
"He's unrefined," Unagi said.
"Reckless. But… there's rhythm beneath the chaos."
Takagi arched a brow.
"Thinking of joining in after all?"
Unagi smirked—barely.
"If I don't… that anger's going to eat him alive."
His expression hardened slightly, his voice dropping as he turned toward Takagi.
"He has control. But he needs to learn how to harness it more with his power. Given the roots of his Godhood though—he'll need a god capable of such to guide him through the malice."
Takagi chuckled softly.
"Then he's about to meet one."
The mirrored ground splintered beneath Union and Xenos' feet. Each crack snaking outward like the last breath of a dying world. Union and Xenos braced themselves—but it was no use.
With a deafening groan, the platform gave way, and they plummeted.
Darkness swallowed them.
But it wasn't emptiness—it was movement. A swirling, suffocating spiral of broken timelines and screaming echoes. They weren't falling through space.
They were falling through memory. Through failure. Through everything that had ever died here.
Then—
A voice.
Cold.
Cruel.
Absolute.
"You have proven… amusing. But strength alone will not save you."
It didn't speak with words. It imposed them—carving them into their minds like warnings etched into bone.
"You bleed with potential… but potential is not power. You survive with will… but will is not supremacy."
The abyss twisted again—the very fabric of the realm contorting, forming a distant glow below. A light far away, pulsing like a dying star. But something waited in that light. Something worse.
"The next trial is not shaped by combat.
It is shaped by truth. By who you are… when your gods no longer answer."
The light grew closer. Hotter. Wrong.
"Only those who conquer themselves… may face what comes after."
Their bodies were swallowed by the final veil of darkness. And somewhere far above them, the gods watched.
Above, Takagi stood at the edge, arms crossed, his silver eyes catching the fractured light of the Crucible below. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as Union and Xenos disappeared into the depths of the next trial.
"They're starting to move like gods," he said, voice low, almost admiring.
"Hard to believe they were still flinching at shadows not long ago."
Unagi leaned against a pillar like a throne, grinning with feral pride.
"Still couldn't beat our record," he said, voice brash.
"We tore through that stage faster than they finished breathing."
Across the platform, Eres sat cross-legged in midair, his soul orb levitating beside him, faint screams flickering within its depths.
"Because you cheated, Unagi," he murmured. "You broke half the course like a rabid beast."
Unagi's grin faded. He straightened slowly, his gaze sharpening like drawn steel.
"Say that again."
Eres didn't blink. His voice remained quiet.
"And what'll happen if I do?"
A spark of tension rippled between them.
But then—a chuckle echoed behind them.
They turned.
And there he stood.
The God of Torment.
Asano lounged atop a column of twisting black stone that hadn't been there moments ago—legs crossed, one arm dangling lazily over the edge..
"Oooh, such sharp tongues," he cooed, voice slithering with poison.
"I love it when gods start to rot from the inside."
Unagi stepped off the pillar annoyed.
"What's your business here anyway, Asano?"
Asano leaned forward, his grin stretching unnaturally wide, his eyes glinting like knives in candlelight.
"To watch the collapse. To taste what breaks first—their bones… or their bond."
Eres stood now, slowly, his aura tightening.
"This isn't your arena."
Asano tilted his head, mock-pouting.
"No. But their suffering will reach me all the same. I simply came… to enjoy the preview."
Takagi's eyes remained on the trial, but his voice darkened.
"Enjoy it from a distance."
Asano blinked slowly.
"Careful, Takagi. If you get too close to the fire… even you might remember what it means to burn."
There was silence.
Only the wind and the low hum of the Crucible below. Then Asano stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his armor.
"I'll take my leave. For now. But I'll be here when the screaming starts."
With a smile like a knife, he stepped backward—and vanished into smoke.
Unagi exhaled slowly.
"He's getting bolder."
Eres didn't respond. His eyes lingered where Asano vanished.
Takagi finally turned, his voice quiet but sharp as a blade drawn in the dark.
"Let him watch. Let them all watch."
He looked back down toward the chaos below—where Union and Xenos were about to face the trial that broke gods.
"They're not done yet."
While the gods bickered above the Crucible, Suzuro's gaze drifted—subtly, but not without purpose. He turned over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing.
A silhouette stood behind him.
Dark. Still. Silent.
It wasn't there a moment ago.
And yet—it felt like it had always been there.
"I must go," Suzuro said, his voice quieter now—more reserved, as if speaking to someone none of them could see.
"Inform me of their results once the trial concludes."
Before anyone could respond, his form fractured into ribbons of radiant creation light—and vanished.
A cold silence followed.
Unagi frowned, his eyes lingering on the empty space Suzuro had left behind.
"What the hell was that?" he muttered.
Takagi's expression darkened. He adjusted the straps on his gauntlets without looking away from the Crucible below.
"I don't know…"
His voice dipped, thoughtful—uneasy.
"But something was here. Just for a moment. Something that shouldn't belong."
The divine wind howled briefly across the platform, cold and sharp as a warning.
And somewhere, beyond the sight of gods and mortals alike—something old had begun to stir.
To Be Continued…