Blood and steel clashed in the skies above a ruined world.
Krishima, his body battered and bleeding, refused to falter. His eyes were sharp with conviction, his aura burning brighter than ever. Holding back Kurohiro's assault with a sheer wall of willpower, he finally let out a roar that shook the heavens:
"This is not acceptable! I've clawed my way to this peak! You can't erase me like this!"
He blasted upward, high above the black clouds and torn sky, and spread his arms wide. From every corner of the world—deserts, forests, oceans, even hidden blood altars—blood began to ripple and rise into the sky.
The red tide twisted together in the air, forming something terrifying.
A massive crystallized sword, glowing crimson, formed piece by piece—its blade forged from the pain, ambition, and sacrifice of countless warriors. Towering and divine, it pulsed with a force that made even the gods watching shudder.
"This is SKYFALL!" Krishima roared, eyes burning, "With this… you will crumble!"
Below him, Kurohiro's body trembled but not in fear.
He was laughing again. That deep, otherworldly laugh that felt like it echoed from the abyss itself.
"You call that a sword?" he whispered, his voice distorted. "Then let me show you a weapon not forged by gods or laws one born from the abyss of a soul that never wanted to exist…"
His soul rings lit up. All ten.
They burned like suns around him as one by one spinning around his arms, his body trembling as he gripped them with both hands. And then he crushed them. Forcefully. Mercilessly.
A shockwave exploded outward as the soul rings shattered like glass. Pieces of each ring—gold, black, crimson, violet—began spiraling toward his chest, his spine, his veins.
Then, everything went silent.
The clouds turned pitch black. Thunder froze mid-rumble. Wind halted in mid-air.
And from the void, a sword began forming but not like any seen before.
It wasn't elegant. It wasn't divine.
It was primordial.
A monstrous blade, wide and jagged, pulsing with pure destructive will.
The hilt was wrapped in veins of soulstone and dragonbone, taken from Vritrasur.
The blade had cracks glowing with different elements—poison, shadow, hellfire, thunder, gravitation, abyss, void, power, and soul.
The core of the sword had a rotating gem—the Eye of Asat, formed from the fused essence of all his soul beasts.
Each time it turned, the world warped colors inverted, pressure reversed, time jittered.
Above Kurohiro, clouds swirled into a massive spiral. Thunder screamed. The sky bled black rain. The land split under his feet.
The sword's name wasn't spoken. It was felt.
And every being every avatar, god, beast, soldier, and spirit they felt their soul tighten in fear.
Krishima stared down at the abomination forming in Kurohiro's hand.
Even with Skyfall in his grasp, doubt crawled into his heart.
And then Kurohiro, raising the sword effortlessly with one hand, whispered:
"Let's see whose world breaks first."
The chapter ends.