"Eight Consecutive Maximum Wind God Fists!"
His silhouette split into eight dark-gold phantoms—indistinguishable from the real thing—completely surrounding Iori!
Eight punches—so fast time itself seemed to freeze—struck simultaneously from every direction!
Facing this certain-kill technique capable of reducing most experts to paste, Iori's blood-red eyes showed no fear.
Instead—an even madder smile.
"If even that trash Kyo Kusanagi could break through mid-battle..."
"Then I, Iori Yagami..."
He howled at the heavens, his voice full of defiance and absolute pride!
"...COULD NEVER LOSE TO GARBAGE LIKE YOU!!!"
BOOOOOOOM!!!
A purple storm—more violent than anything before, infused with the "dark side of the moon's" destructive will—expanded outward with his body at its center!
[Absolute Domain 73%]!!!
The entire stadium went silent!
"Forbidden Style 1211: Ya Otome!"
He answered violence with violence! Madness with madness!
His form split into countless purple phantoms, carrying soul-rending shrieks, colliding with those eight dark-gold "Wind Gods" at ring center in the most brutal slaughter!
Splurt—! Splurt—! Splurt—!
Blood and flesh flew through the air!
When the dust settled—
Iori Yagami stood at the center of the ring, drenched in blood, like an asura risen from hell!
At his feet, An'un lay like a dead dog, blood pooling around him. That once-arrogant handsome face had been raked by Iori's merciless claws until it was unrecognizable—a bloody ruin.
An'un had lost.
Lost... utterly and completely!
Just as Iori raised his foot to stomp this annoying prince's skull like a watermelon—
Something changed.
Bzzzt... bzzzt...
Every broadcast screen in the venue suddenly filled with ear-piercing static!
Then a face appeared—stern, powerful, middle-aged.
The current Emperor of Japan.
"The match ends here."
His voice wasn't loud, but the speakers carried it clearly to everyone present.
"Iori Yagami. Release my son."
"Otherwise... face the consequences."
Dead silence.
Everyone was completely blindsided by this "outside interference."
But An'un, seeing that familiar face on screen...
...let out a howl like a wounded beast, full of humiliation and rage!
"OLD BASTARD! WHO TOLD YOU TO SHOW UP?! GET LOST! FUCK OFF!"
"I'D RATHER DIE THAN SURRENDER TO THIS LUNATIC!"
But Iori completely ignored this "loving father-son" imperial drama.
He simply raised his head slowly.
Those blood-red eyes—full of madness and contempt—coldly regarded the Emperor on screen.
Then he made a gesture...
...that drove the entire stadium wild.
The same internationally-friendly gesture Cloud had used.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
In the VIP section, Cloud couldn't hold back anymore and burst out laughing!
He stood up too, raising his own middle finger at the purple-faced Emperor on screen!
"Nice one, Yagami!"
"From today on, you crazy bastard... I, Cloud, acknowledge you!"
On stage, Iori Yagami gazed at the Emperor—now looking like he was about to have a heart attack—and let a cruel, insane smile spread across his face.
"Watch closely, old man."
"I'm going to—right in front of you—"
"—beat your worthless failure of a son... to death!"
He raised his right foot high, ready to crush An'un's skull like a ripe melon—
The Emperor's expression turned glacial. After a moment of silence, he cut the feed!
And then—
Another twist!
"GRAAAAAHHH!!!"
A roar—saturated with evil and ominous power—exploded from within An'un without warning!
Waves of thick black miasma poured from his broken body!
In that instant, the Yata Mirror Barrier screamed in protest! The entire Tokyo Dome was plunged into a suffocating, apocalyptic stillness!
Even Iori was forced back half a step by this sudden, horrifying power!
He watched the figure slowly rise from the ground—body wreathed in black miasma, eyes transformed into emotionless crimson pools—and for once, his mad expression turned serious.
That aura was so evil. So ominous.
As if the gates of hell had been forced open!
The black miasma slowly dispersed.
A new entity emerged—something that would drive any normal human instantly insane.
It was still the Crown Prince called "An'un."
But also... completely not.
His once-handsome face was now covered in eerie black tattoo-like patterns, like demonic markings.
His eyes had become solid crimson—utterly devoid of emotion.
And on his forehead... a pair of curved horns had sprouted, like a goat's.
But the most terrifying feature was behind him.
A pair of massive, grotesque wings—seemingly woven from the deepest darkness itself—slowly unfurled.
...
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