### Volume 2: Upper World

  **Chapter 13: 0.0005 Nanoseconds**

  Sky sprinted across the shattered mall parking lot—rain hammering his face, boots splashing through puddles of demon ichor and broken glass. Mara was already turning, Mist Sword rising in a silver blur, edge trailing gray vapor that hissed in the wet air.

  Sky tackled him low—shoulder to midsection, full momentum. Mara grunted, feet sliding back on slick concrete, but he twisted mid-fall, sword whipping around in a tight arc aimed straight for Sky’s neck.

  Sky felt the hum spike.

  “Frame Bind.”

  Time frames snapped into place around Mara’s swing. The blade slowed—every inch of motion stretched like taffy, silver edge hanging in the air for what felt like forever. Sky moved inside the frames—body a blue-red streak, untouchable.

  He weaved—ducked under the frozen arc, spun, and drove his fist into Mara’s side.

  Echo Fist.

  The first hit landed—crunch of ribs. The echo detonated half a second later—shockwave bursting outward, cracking more ribs, sending Mara flying back through the air. He crashed into the mall’s front entrance—glass exploding around him, body tumbling through the lobby in a spray of shards and rain.

  Sky jumped—high, spatial fold boosting him upward. He landed inside the mall with a roll, boots skidding across wet tile. The place was a ruin—escalators collapsed, mannequins torn apart, flickering emergency lights throwing long shadows.

  He crossed his fingers.

  “Realm: Endless Fracture.”

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  The mall warped—reality cracking into infinite mirrored shards, time dilating inside the domain. To the outside world, it lasted 0.0005 nanoseconds—less than a blink. To Mara, trapped in the center, it stretched into an eternity of looping reflections, every movement echoing back at him in endless cuts and disorientation.

  Meanwhile—

  Max stood in the shattered department store, mirrors everywhere reflecting his bloody grin. Yami faced him—sword low, shadows pooling at his feet like spilled ink.

  Max laughed—low, ragged, blood on his teeth.

  “It’s over, Yami.”

  Yami tilted his head. “Yeah right, kid. Will energy’s been out for 2.4 million years. You think you’re the first to smile like that?”

  Max’s hand closed around the knife Sky had dropped earlier—the ceremonial one, still wet with devil blood. He moved—fast, faster than before, blood veins glowing bright under his skin.

  Yami’s eyes widened.

  Max was part of the Blood Clan.

  Infinity blood.

  No end to it. No limit.

  He dashed—knife flashing.

  Yami raised his sword—too late.

  The blade took Yami’s head clean off.

  Black blood sprayed in a wide arc, splattering nearby mirrors. The body stood a second longer—shadows flickering—then crumpled, sword clattering to the tile.

  Max stood over it, breathing hard, smiling through the blood.

  “I am hope. Peace. The world helper. I need to help the world.”

  He wiped the knife on his sleeve, turned, and ran toward the mall.

  Back inside—

  Sky walked closer to Mara—slow, deliberate. Inside the realm, only 30 seconds had passed for him, but to Mara it felt like 0.0005 nanoseconds of endless fracturing mirrors and echoing pain.

  Sky raised two fingers like a gun—blue-red energy coiling at the tips.

  “Azure Push.”

  The repulsive force blasted out—focused, brutal. Mara flew backward—body tumbling through the mall, crashing through walls, out the far side, soaring across the city skyline until he vanished into the Osaka night.

  Sky stood there a second, breathing hard.

  He knew Mara wasn’t dead. Not yet.

  But he was safe—for now.

  He turned and ran—fast, toward the last known safe spot: the ruins of Jefferson Academy.

  When he arrived, the place was a graveyard—main building collapsed, silver eye symbol cracked in half, bodies scattered across the courtyard. Over 2,000 students and staff dead just from the initial attack. The fireball from Jane had taken more—1.2 million confirmed across Japan in the first wave alone.

  Room 105—his clan, his people—were the only ones left breathing.

  They huddled in the basement training room—reinforced concrete, emergency lights flickering.

  Max was there—blood on his face, knife in hand, smiling like he’d won something.

  Frosty leaned against the wall, frozen hand wrapped tight.

  Hiro sat with the younger ones—Taka, Aoi, Ren—checking wounds.

  Cam’s shadow wolves prowled the door.

  Jessica sparked weak lightning to light the room.

  Juno whispered traps around the entrances.

  Rita and Lola were gone—confirmed dead in the blast.

  Sky walked in.

  Everyone looked up.

  He hugged Kira first—tight, like they hadn’t seen each other in 700 years. She hugged back—sword still in hand, veins glowing soft red.

  No one spoke for a long moment.

  Then Sky looked at them—all of them.

  The survivors.

  The last of Jefferson Academy.

  The chapter ended.

  To be continued…