Akitsu reappeared in the underground hideout, the smell of blood and ash thick in the air.
Bodies littered the stone floor—criminals and cultists alike.
Varkhan Lucem stood at the far end of the chamber, silver-black hair slicked back, Demon Circle blades resting loosely in his hands.
“You’re back,” Varkhan said calmly. “Again.”
Akitsu didn’t respond. He drew Joyeuse, the blade gleaming softly, its ornate hilt catching the torchlight.
They circled.
“You rush less,” Varkhan observed. “But your breathing is uneven.”
Akitsu lunged anyway.
Steel clashed.
Varkhan twisted aside, his blade cutting—
Pain exploded through Akitsu’s side.
“Your ribs,” Varkhan said. “You guard your heart too much.”
Akitsu staggered.
Before he could recover—
A precise cut across the throat.
Darkness.
The ethereal island returned.
A single petal fell, drifting slowly, touching the black water with a soundless ripple.
Akitsu clenched his jaw.
“…I still reacted,” he muttered. “I tried to correct.”
The demon nodded approvingly. “Correction creates openings.”
Akitsu opened the next door.
The hideout again.
This time, Akitsu didn’t attack first.
He stood perfectly still.
Varkhan raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
Seconds passed.
“You’re waiting,” Varkhan said. “But you’re tense.”
Akitsu stepped forward slowly, guarding every angle, denying momentum.
Varkhan advanced.
Their blades met—
Akitsu blocked—
And froze.
“You thought too much,” Varkhan whispered.
His blade slipped through Akitsu’s guard, piercing cleanly beneath the collarbone.
Akitsu collapsed, lungs filling with blood.
Darkness swallowed him.
Back on the island.
Another petal fell.
The count reached ninety.
Akitsu stared at the water.
“…So that’s it.”
The demon leaned forward. “Say it.”
“He doesn’t just see weaknesses,” Akitsu said. “He creates them.”
The demon smiled wide.
“By forcing reactions,” Akitsu continued. “Fear. Correction. Hesitation. Overthinking. He waits for the instant the body betrays the mind.”
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“And?”
Akitsu lifted his gaze, eyes sharp. “So I won’t react.”
The demon laughed softly. “Now you’re dangerous.”
Akitsu opened the door.
The hideout welcomed him once more.
Varkhan Lucem was already there.
“You came back again,” Varkhan said. “Persistent.”
Akitsu drew Joyeuse and held it low—not threatening. Relaxed.
Varkhan frowned slightly.
They advanced.
Akitsu moved—not fast, not slow.
Neutral.
No correction.
No hesitation.
Varkhan struck—
Akitsu didn’t dodge.
He let the blade pass, stepping half an inch aside—no wasted motion.
Varkhan’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t react,” he said.
Akitsu swung Joyeuse.
Light erupted.
Not a blinding flash—but a focused burst, directed inward.
Varkhan recoiled, vision shattered.
Akitsu pressed forward, movements fluid, unbroken.
“You rely on prediction,” Akitsu said calmly. “So I removed the variable.”
Varkhan slashed wildly—
Akitsu stepped inside his range.
Joyeuse pierced straight through Varkhan’s chest.
Varkhan coughed, blood spilling from his lips.
“…So that’s how,” he whispered. “You became empty.”
Akitsu twisted the blade and pulled it free.
Varkhan Lucem collapsed.
Dead.
Silence filled the hideout.
Akitsu didn’t linger.
He wiped Joyeuse clean, turned, and ran.
From the shadows, a cult member trembled.
He stepped forward cautiously, eyes wide.
On the ground lay a single strand of black hair, torn free during the battle.
The cultist knelt, picked it up carefully, and whispered, “So this is you…”
He disappeared into the darkness.
Minutes later, royal knights stormed the hideout.
Weapons raised.
“Clear the room!”
Bodies everywhere.
“Captain,” a knight said, voice shaken. “Everyone’s dead.”
Rhen Calder stepped forward, eyes scanning the carnage.
“…Too late,” he murmured.
Lemon peeked from his shoulder. “You think it was him?”
Rhen exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”
He sheathed his blade.
“he got here first.”
