Sinai floated above the enormous crater, his black robe long gone, his expression as empty as ever.
Across from him, John Merciless stood suspended in the air, the Black Smile Sword resting in his right hand. His white mask concealed his face, but the ocean-blue glow shining through its eyeholes made it clear that he was enjoying himself.
Sinai stared at him for several seconds.
Then he looked down at the crater beneath his feet. He seemed to be considering something. Finally, he sighed. "You know what? Let's just get this over with." His empty eyes returned to John. "I'm not the type to squabble for hours. There's no point having fun with an enemy of your caliber."
John tilted his head. "An enemy of my caliber? That's a rather interesting way to describe someone who you just survived an attack from."
Sinai ignored him. He slowly raised his right hand and placed his palm over his face. "Identity." The moment the word left his mouth, the atmosphere changed. An ominous aura erupted from Sinai's body, spreading across the sky like an approaching catastrophe. The air trembled, and the clouds above the battlefield began to separate.
Then the sky cracked. It wasn't a metaphorical crack. The very heavens split apart, revealing enormous fractures that stretched across the atmosphere. Beyond those fractures, something moved.
Two gigantic red hands descended from the sky.
Their fingers were large enough to cover mountain ranges, and their palms carried an ancient presence that made the entire planet tremble. They descended slowly, one from either side of Sinai, before turning their palms toward each other.
And then they closed.
The enormous hands shielded Sinai completely, enclosing him within their palms. For a moment, the battlefield disappeared beneath their shadow. John watched the phenomenon without moving. His ocean-blue eyes narrowed slightly.
"...Now that's new." The hands remained closed around Sinai. Then the aura intensified. John could feel something changing inside that enormous barrier. It wasn't merely an increase in power. The very nature of Sinai's existence was being rewritten.
Whatever he had been before, he was becoming something else.
Something ancient. Something that had existed long before the current age of circuits. John's smile widened. "Well, this should be interesting." He tightened his grip around the Black Smile Sword and waited.
He had no intention of interrupting.
After all, he wanted to see what Sinai had been hiding. And whatever was about to emerge, John had a feeling that it would be considerably more troublesome than the man he had been fighting.
Far across planet Kael'Ar, beyond the ruined mountain ranges and the distant battlefields, a quiet wind passed over a lonely mountain peak.
Arata Kurogane sat at its edge with his right foot resting toward the ground, his posture relaxed as though he had come here to enjoy the scenery rather than observe a war that threatened to reshape history.
His black hair moved gently in the wind. His expression was as indifferent as ever. In front of him sat Kitakim, his legs crossed and his right elbow resting on his right knee, his chin supported by his palm.
Neither had any reason to hurry. Their attention, however, was directed toward the same distant battlefield. Kitakim could feel the aura spreading from Sinai.
It was unlike the presence of an ordinary circuit user. There was something fundamentally different about it, something that seemed to belong to an era when the world had been governed by beings whose names had long since disappeared from human history.
Kitakim's eyes narrowed. "The aura of a god...?" He studied the distant sky, where the pressure of Sinai's transformation continued to spread. "It seems the little brat Sinai is finally serious." Then Kitakim turned toward Arata.
The young man hadn't even changed his posture. "Aren't you even a little worried about your subordinates?" Arata didn't glance at him. "Why would I be worried?" His answer came so casually that Kitakim stared at him.
"They can handle themselves."
Kitakim let out a laugh. "You're talking about an ancient god from the First Era. Are you sure your subordinate can even stand a chance of winning?" Arata finally chuckled. It wasn't a particularly loud laugh, but there was something about it that made Kitakim's smile falter.
"Since he's your second subordinate," Arata said, "I'll tell you something." Kitakim raised an eyebrow. "John isn't just my subordinate." Arata looked toward the distant battlefield. "He's my shadow, manifested physically." The wind passed between them.
Kitakim's expression gradually changed.
Arata continued as if he were explaining something completely ordinary. "He possess a simplified version of my Soul Circuit and Koketsu. Naturally, those abilities are useful, but they aren't the entirety of what he can do." He rested his hand against the ground behind him.
"Right now, he's probably thinking that those abilities won't work against a god from the First Era." Arata's lips curved upward. "Which means he'll have to use his real circuit." Kitakim went quiet.
He had known that Arata was an unusual existence. He had witnessed enough to understand that the young man sitting before him was not someone whose strength could be measured through conventional standards.
But there was a difference between knowing someone was powerful and understanding the relationship between that person and the beings who served him. John Merciless was no ordinary subordinate. He was a physical manifestation of Arata's shadow.
And even that was only part of the truth. Kitakim slowly turned his attention back toward the battlefield. "You're awfully confident." "Of course." Arata's gaze drifted toward the sky. "My light has already achieved supremacy and ascended as the God of Heaven." His tone remained light, almost conversational. "So if you think you're winning this war by any chance, you should stop."
Arata glanced at Kitakim for the first time. "Because it's futile." For several seconds, Kitakim said nothing. Then he laughed again, although this time there was less amusement in it. "You really are an insufferable brat." Arata shrugged. "I've been told."
And just like that, he returned his attention to the battlefield. He had no reason to intervene….Not yet.
Back on the battlefield, the enormous red hands began to move. Their fingers slowly unfolded. The palms separated, allowing the darkness trapped between them to spill into the world. What emerged was no longer Sinai. At least, not in any ordinary sense.
His body had transformed into that of an ancient god.
Deboras.
Black scales covered his entire body, each one possessing a strange, ancient texture that seemed to absorb the light around it. His silhouette was distinctly inhuman, and the aura emanating from him carried the weight of an existence that had witnessed countless ages pass.
His head was equally unsettling. He possessed a mouth and a nose, but no eyes. There were no empty sockets or signs of blindness. Deboras simply had no need for eyes. His scales served that purpose. Every scale upon his body could perceive the world around him, allowing him to sense movements, energy, and the presence of living beings without relying on ordinary sight.
He did not need to look at John. He could perceive him through every part of his body. The enormous red hands withdrew into the sky. Their work was finished. Then the darkness spread.
Clouds gathered above the planet, swallowing the sunlight as though an enormous veil had been drawn over the world. The temperature dropped, and the atmosphere grew heavy beneath the ancient god's presence.
Across Kael'Ar, countless creatures lifted their heads. Some fled into hiding. Others remained frozen, unable to understand why their instincts were screaming at them to escape. Even the mountains seemed to tremble. John stared at the being before him. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he let out a low whistle.
"Well, Sinai. You certainly know how to make an entrance." Deboras tilted his head. There was no response. John rolled his shoulder. "Let's see what you've got."
The next instant…John lost sight of him. No. That wasn't quite right. John's perception had not simply failed to follow Sinai's movement. Sinai had escaped his perception entirely.
There was no recognizable displacement, no obvious trace of energy, and no interval between the moment he stood in the distance and the moment he appeared before John. It was as though the space between them had ceased to exist.
John's instincts screamed. He moved immediately. Deboras's fist was already aimed at his stomach. John twisted his body and brought the Black Smile Sword across his front, using the flat of the blade to intercept the incoming punch.
The impact was catastrophic. BOOOOM! John was sent flying. The force drove him downward through the atmosphere, his body cutting through the darkness before he struck the earth.
The ground collapsed beneath him. A gigantic crater formed around the impact site, sending a wall of dust and shattered stone into the air but John wasn't finished. He landed on his feet. His knees bent slightly as he absorbed the remaining momentum, and the earth beneath him fractured outward in a vast circle.
For a brief moment, he remained in that position. Then his head lifted. Deboras was already descending toward him. John's eyes widened behind his mask. "Fast". He immediately jumped backward.
The moment his feet left the ground, Deboras landed where he had been standing. The impact drove the earth downward, creating another enormous depression. John continued retreating through the air, intending to regain his footing at a safe distance but before he could land…Deboras appeared directly in front of him.
John barely had time to react. The ancient god's leg drove into his stomach. BOOOOOOM! John was launched across the landscape. He tore through the first mountain. Then the second. Then the third.
Each mountain collapsed upon impact, scattering enormous slabs of rock across the surrounding valleys. John finally emerged from the last mountain and struck the ground in an open area far beyond the shattered range.
The earth buckled beneath him. Dust surged into the sky and for several seconds, the battlefield was silent. Deboras stood in the distance, his scaled body motionless beneath the darkened heavens. John remained somewhere within the enormous cloud of dust.
Then a faint blue light appeared inside it. Two ocean-blue eyes. Glowing through a white mask and slowly, beneath the settling debris, John Merciless began to smile. The fight had finally become worth his time.