The estate didn't feel like a home anymore.
It felt like a grave that hadn't finished closing.
Takeru stood at the edge of the broken courtyard.
Maki stood beside him.
Silent.
Unmoving.
The Split Soul Katana felt heavier in her grip—not physically, but in meaning.
"…We end it," Takeru said.
No emotion.
No hesitation.
Maki nodded once.
"…Yeah."
And then they moved.
Zen'in Estate — Collapse of the Clan
What followed wasn't a battle anymore.
It was removal.
Systematic.
Efficient.
Zen'in sorcerers tried to organize.
Tried to resist.
Tried to pretend they still had authority.
It didn't matter.
Maki moved like something the clan had never accounted for.
No wasted motion.
No openings.
Just inevitability.
Takeru followed alongside her.
Not overshadowing.
Not assisting.
Matching.
Together, they cut through resistance like it wasn't even worth remembering.
One by one—
voices stopped.
Orders stopped.
The estate grew quieter.
Too quiet.
Until there was almost nothing left that could call itself Zen'in.
The Final Hallway
Naoya Zen'in stood alone now.
Dust drifting in the air around him.
Smiling.
Still smiling.
"…So this is what it's come to."
He looked at Maki.
"…You really did it."
Maki didn't respond.
Takeru stepped forward slightly.
"…You are the last confirmed target."
Naoya laughed softly.
"…Target?"
A grin widened.
"…You still talk like this is a mission."
Then he moved.
Fast.
Refined.
Almost beautiful in its precision.
Projection Sorcery activated—
frames of movement stacking—
time slicing itself into predictable segments.
Takeru reacted instantly.
Too slow.
Naoya struck—
Maki countered—
Takeru followed—
But Naoya adapted.
Every movement calculated.
Every counter pre-planned.
"…You're predictable," Naoya muttered.
For a moment—
he seemed untouchable.
Then—
Maki stopped hesitating.
Something shifted in her presence.
No longer restrained.
No longer burdened.
She understood the timing now.
Takeru saw it too.
"…Now."
They synchronized.
Not perfectly—
but enough.
A break in Naoya's rhythm.
One frame misaligned.
That was all it took.
Maki's strike hit first—
clean—
direct—
Takeru followed immediately—
a brutal punch that carried full weight behind it—
CRACK—
Naoya's jaw shattered sideways.
He flew backward—
skidding across stone.
Silence.
He tried to laugh.
But it came out wrong.
"…You… cheaters…"
He dragged himself away.
Not toward escape.
Toward the only place left that felt familiar.
His room.
Naoya's Room
Dim.
Dusty.
Still untouched.
He collapsed inside.
Breathing uneven.
Jaw broken.
Body failing.
He looked up slowly.
"…Mother…"
A frail woman stood there.
Already on the edge of death.
Still upright.
Still present.
She looked at him.
Not with anger.
Not with pride.
Just exhaustion.
"…You brought this on yourself," she whispered.
Naoya tried to speak.
But couldn't form it.
His mother stepped forward.
Slow.
Final.
And drove a knife into him.
No ceremony.
No hesitation.
Just end.
Naoya's body fell still.
The Zen'in clan's last named heir—
gone.
Outside the room—
silence spread through the estate like smoke.
Maki stood still for a long time.
Then finally—
she exhaled.
"…It's over."
Takeru nodded once.
"…Confirmed."
No celebration.
No relief.
Only the absence of something rotten that had finally stopped moving.
And somewhere far beyond the estate—
the Culling Games continued to wait.
Unmoved.
Unimpressed.