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  Chapter 21: Fusion (Kerchack vs. Yuzuki)**

  The air vibrated with threads of energy as sharp as razors. Yuzuki's chest heaved, but his left arm... was no longer there. Only the sound of hot, heavy blood flowing, leaving a living trail through the rubble of the dead city.

  Amok landed beside him violently, his body still trembling with rage. He said nothing—just knelt, placed his hand on Yuzuki's exposed wound—and the *Bar??* energy manifested in a green flash. The bleeding stopped, the muscle sealed... but the limb would never return.

  The emptiness in Yuzuki's eyes met the clouded sky. For a second, he faltered, staggering like a loose leaf in the gale of his own weakness.

  That was all it took. From the shadows in his chest, Mao's chains emerged—black, liquid, suffocating—and closed around his throat with a dry snap.

  — **SO WEAK... SO PATHETIC... DO YOU WANT TO DIE LIKE A DOG WITHOUT AN ARM, YUZUKI?**

  Mao's guttural voice roared, slicing through Yuzuki's mind like a blade. Yuzuki's eyes widened, his breath forced out. Amok realized too late. Kerchack, seizing the open guard, spread his wings and advanced with absurd speed, like a golden, hungry lightning bolt.

  *RIP!*

  Kerchack's claw pierced Yuzuki's chest, from shoulder to rib. Blood gushed like a living fountain, painting the ground with his essence. A dry sound of tearing flesh echoed through the city.

  — **YUZUKI!!!** — Amok screamed, despair choking his manic smile.

  Yuzuki's body was thrown to the ground, forming a crater in the center of the ruined city. Dust and blood rose like an altar to suffering. Kerchack hovered above, drooling, his eyes wide with ecstasy. The shadow of his majesty burned everything around.

  — **YOU ARE NOTHING BUT INSECTS!** — the dragon roared. — **THE AGE OF HUMANS ENDS HERE!**

  Behind him, the corpses summoned by the Necropolis of Lepra ritual advanced like flaming puppets, dripping rot and mystical energy. Amok positioned himself in front, spinning his sword in a fury—but he was alone. And even he... was panting.

  Then everything stopped. Amid the blood, the dust, and the pain... Yuzuki opened his eyes. He saw Paige's face. The small hug. The tenderness of her fingers gripping his cloak. That warmth that, for a moment, had pushed Mao away.

  Then came the memory of Isabela—the strong arm that had believed in him. And of Zyon, who had fought for him until he fell. And of his brother, lost in the flames of Kugutsu. The pain became an ocean. And in its midst, Yuzuki sank.

  But something... flourished.

  The air shifted. The energy that sprouted was not merely spiritual—it was ancestral. A dry thunderclap cracked the sky. The continent trembled. Amok felt it before anyone. His smile returned, but it was... fearful.

  — **What... are you doing, Yuzuki?** — he whispered. — **This bond... is stronger than anything I have ever felt...**

  The sky turned dark green. The light vanished. Towers in nearby cities collapsed. Animals fled. The waters churned. Mountains wept. The wind held its breath. Everything... stopped.

  In Salem, the sky broke. And on the hidden throne beneath the rot of bones and veils, the Lepra King slowly raised his head. His lidless eyes glowed.

  — *So... you have finally blossomed.*

  The words fell like a whisper that shattered the heavens.

  Back in the city, Yuzuki planted his feet firmly. His skin burned. His aura pulsed in distorted spirals of living spiritual energy. He opened his mouth, his eyes glowing with a hazy light, as if the universe were looking through him.

  — **Y?G?!!!**

  The word roared like thunder. Amok smiled. For the first time—not like a madman... But like one witnessing a miracle.

  ***

  The earth trembled. Not like in the old tales, where gods walked through valleys and men prayed. It trembled as if something impure, forgotten even by the gods, had awakened.

  Yuzuki was no longer just Yuzuki. His skin took on a livid hue, his muscles dancing with an unstable energy. His black hair flowed to his shoulders like a living shadow, and a silver band hid his eyes—now green and incandescent, like embers hidden by snow.

  Over his shoulders, a cloak of black feathers vibrated with the power of chaos. His hood, shaped like a crow's beak, gave him the appearance of an ancient hunter—an entity come to judge. His sword, now alive, glowed with a dark green that devoured the light. It was as if the blade itself were dying... and smiling for it.

  — **Amok...** — he whispered, his voice blending two tones. — **...we are now one.**

  Amok—or rather, the part of Amok fused within him—smiled in Yuzuki's mind:

  — **Let us give him what he deserves, partner...**

  Kerchack took a step back. For the first time. The golden king hesitated. The smell in the air had changed. It was not just blood or power. It was the stench of certain death.

  — **What are you...?** — the dragon snarled, raising the claw that had killed kings.

  Yuzuki raised his hand. Black and green energy danced around his fingers like strings—puppet strings stitched into the air.

  — **I am the Final Thread. The one who pulls... until everything falls.**

  Then he moved his fingers. And the world bent.

  **Technique: Act I — Dance of the Corpses**

  Strings of energy erupted from the ground, snaring corpses, shattered buildings, armor, even the bones of forgotten victims. Everything moved. Everything danced. The summoned puppets attacked Kerchack from all angles—flying, exploding, grabbing. Kerchack roared and spat golden fire. But nothing could stop the animated bodies. Yuzuki was now the puppet master.

  **Technique: Act II — Strings of Redemption**

  The strings coiled around Yuzuki's own body, as if he were a divine puppet. His movements became erratic, unpredictable. He vanished and reappeared, attacking with the sword as if time itself were twisted. A cut to the throat. Another at the base of the tail. Another between the scales around the eye. Kerchack bled. The dragon tried to speak, but only coughed fire and despair.

  — **THIS CANNOT BE! YOU ARE HUMAN!**

  — **Not anymore** — Yuzuki whispered, and with a single curved cut, he severed the beast's tongue. Kerchack screamed like a dying pig.

  **Technique: Act III — Smile of the Broken Doll**

  Yuzuki stopped. He raised his hand. And the strings attached themselves to Kerchack's own body: eyes, jaw, wingtips, claws, eyelids. Each part was pulled in opposite directions, slowly—as if forcing the dragon to smile. Kerchack drooled and howled.

  Then Mao's voice exploded like a mental blast.

  — **ENOUGH, DAMN YOU! YOU SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO THIS! I AM YOUR ORIGIN! YOUR VOID! YOUR ROOT!**

  — **You are just my shadow...** — Yuzuki replied. — **...and now, I walk in front.**

  Mao roared, powerless to stop him. Yuzuki climbed onto Kerchack's head, walking on the strings as if treading the threads of fate. He drove his sword into the dragon's skull, letting it vibrate, as the strings of the *Y?g?* coiled around the beast's heart.

  — **Time to sleep, golden king. Your glory ends today... like a broken toy.**

  Yuzuki pulled one last thread. And Kerchack's heart exploded. The entire body shuddered, the wings collapsed, the eyes turned to dust. The Dragon plunged like a dead star. The fall cracked miles of earth, leaving a crater remembered for ages.

  Silence. Yuzuki hovered over the smoke. The ruined city behind him—corpses, ashes. And the hot blood of a legend pooling at his feet.

  On the other side of the continent, the Lepra King gripped his throne of bones so tightly that his rotten arm detached.

  — *That boy... will burn the whole world.*

  ***

  ### **Exit from Salem**

  Zeke led the last group of survivors through the ruined streets of Salem. Haunted children, elderly leaning on makeshift crutches, the wounded wrapped in filthy bandages—all marched, exhausted but determined. When the energy of the *Y?g?* exploded, Zeke shuddered:

  — *He... is alive. Stronger than ever.*

  The blood at his feet formed greenish pools—the echo of the power flowing in the distance. Without hesitation, he raised his hand and shouted:

  — Forward! This man is our hero. May his strength guide us!

  And the displaced quickened their pace, confident in the invisible protection that pulsed in the air.

  ***

  ### **Silent Refuge**

  On a nearby hilltop, Gotier watched. Beside him, Kaien rested with Akari on his back—the young woman still asleep, too exhausted to wake. The wind carried sparks of ash, but Gotier smiled as he felt the same current of energy that Zeke had detected:

  — *He prevailed... and survived.*

  Kaien bowed his head, exhaling a soft purr, like a grave relief after the storm. Akari murmured in her sleep and settled, while Gotier closed his eyes in silent gratitude.

  ***

  ### **Distant City**

  In a distant metropolis, Paige and her mother sat down for a simple meal of bread and broth. Suddenly, the air seemed to vibrate. Paige looked up, feeling a familiar warmth in her chest—the mark of Yuzuki still resonating in her soul.

  — *He... once saved me. Now, he is saving the world.*

  Paige held her mother's hand and closed her eyes. A whispered prayer escaped her lips. Those who had witnessed the cruelty of Salem recognized in that moment a new guardian rising on the horizon.

  ***

  ### **Iron & Ash Bar, Sazhen's Gate**

  Taida, the traitor from Kugutsu, raised his mug:

  — Welcome... to the stolen home. To the redeemed soul. And to the reborn power!

  His friends toasted, unsure of the reason, but Taida—smiling predatorily—felt it:

  *Someone from Kugutsu is in Pangea.*

  And as the entire continent bowed before the power of the *Y?g?*, a new era of blood and redemption began to dawn.

  ***

  The air was heavy. Dark clouds, soot, and ash descended in a melancholic rain. Salem had turned to dust—its streets a cemetery of shattered houses and charred bodies. Nothing remained but the void.

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  Yuzuki stood amid the rubble, dust, and death, looking with a calm relief at the crater where his greatest enemy had plunged. His emerald eyes shone as he stared at the horizon.

  — I am scared... — he whispered, his voice trembling, his hands and teeth shaking.

  In the silence of his mind, Amok listened. Hidden in Yuzuki's thoughts, he studied the young warrior. Yuzuki needed a friend—someone to advise him—but Amok claimed not to be that person. Then Amok's voice floated gently through his mind:

  — **Yuzuki, what scares you so much?**

  Yuzuki's answer was a choked confession:

  — Of being myself... — He raised his head toward the gray sky, his body wracked with sobs.

  The rain fell—slow, heavy, mixed with ash and dust. Blood began to leak from between the debris at his feet.

  — **You knew what could happen in Salem** — Amok's tone was direct.

  — Exactly! — Yuzuki's voice cracked with anger. — I knew—and that is the problem.

  He looked down and saw them: the bodies of the blacksmith and Isabela, side by side in death. Yuzuki fell to his knees, his head bowed in guilt and grief.

  — I am so sorry! — he shouted. — You died because of us. The island of Kugutsu is a plague—its culture a curse!

  Rising slowly, he collected their bodies and carried them to the city's main square, miraculously intact despite the surrounding destruction. With trembling hands, he cleared the broken stones and fallen beams until he stood before the ruined fountain. Once a symbol of beauty—an angel at the top pouring life-giving water—it now gushed blood, mixed with ash, stone, and fragments of flesh.

  In silence, Yuzuki dug a grave with his one remaining hand. As he worked, a cruel laugh thundered in his mind:

  — **HSAHHAASHAAAHAHSAHAHAHAHAH!!! WHAT A GLORIOUS MOMENT—I AM HAVING AN ORGASM. IT IS TIME, OUR GREAT VILLAIN YUZUKI: EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH DIES. YOUR BROTHER WOULD BE PROUD OF YOU.**

  It was Mao's voice—sarcastic, merciless—reveling in Yuzuki's torment. Yuzuki's hand trembled. He clenched his fist, took a deep breath, and tried to count to ten:

  — *1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6...*

  — **That is right, keep counting. Is that how you coped when your little brother lost his head? Let us count together, Kanji.**

  — *1... 2... 3... 4...* — Mao counted along with him, each number driving Yuzuki deeper into frustration and rage. Memories flooded him—his brother taken to the King of Kugutsu, his parents' smiles as Yuzuki remained imprisoned.

  — **NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!**

  His cry of despair, loneliness, and madness sounded so fiercely that Zeke, on the other side of the ruined city, heard it. Those he had saved looked up, panic in their eyes, seeking confirmation of the tragedy.

  In Yuzuki's mind, Mao laughed—a wild, pleasure-filled cackle:

  — **HAAAAAHAHAAAAHAAAAAAAAA HHHHHAHAAHAHHAAHHAH**

  And so the chapter ends: Yuzuki collapsed into the shallow grave of Isabela and her father, succumbing to madness—laughing, crying, tearing at his hair. A dark energy swirled around him. It was Mao, haunting Yuzuki's fractured mind.

  ***

  Kugutsu Island**

  On the other side of the world, shrouded in black mists, stood Kugutsu Island. In its cavernous halls, an urgent meeting of the Great Leaders was convened. Before the King's dark throne, the heads of the three ancestral clans—Salt, Lead, and Alcali—were arranged, though in the gloom it was impossible to distinguish them clearly. On the oval iron table, engraved in relief, shone the emblems that defined their power: the waning moon of the Salt Clan, the stacked hourglasses of the Lead, and the enigmatic "four smiling ones" of the Alcali.

  The silence was broken by a harsh, accusatory voice. Someone pointed at Shion, commander-in-chief of the Slayers:

  — Alkaraz and Yuri were killed by Yuzuki!

  Shion jutted his chin forward in the gloom, his hands planted firmly on the table. Gaz, leader of the Salt, remained impassive; his ruby eyes with feline pupils glinted like shark blades. Not a muscle in his face moved.

  Across the table, Soap, the grumpy chief of the Lead, chewed on a piece of meat while cleaning his teeth with a small knife:

  — Useless — he growled, flinging the words like darts. — You let him escape, Shion. A Kanji from a minor clan shatters our best warriors? Ridiculous.

  At the back of the hall, Shinxal scratched his nose, laughing in a strangely high-pitched tone:

  — Yes, yes... ZAHAHAAHHA! Damn it, Ygon, where did he get so much power? They said he was just a Kanji—one of those useless pigs. Now two of Alcali's greatest are dead!

  Shinxal was just over twenty, bald, with piercings in his nose and ears. His lean body bore vivid tattoos: wolves, tigers, dragons, coiled serpents, and a dark giant with ruby eyes wielding a staff capable of destroying cities. With each laugh, his face contorted in nervous tics, giving him a uniquely unsettling presence.

  A premonition hung in the air: this meeting was not merely a gathering of leaders, but the prelude to a merciless hunt. On Kugutsu Island, ancestral fury simmered—and Yuzuki, marked by blood and war, had become the target that would unite all the clans in a new and bloody destiny.

  ***

  Ygon, Shinxal's right-hand man, burst from the darkness like an immense sentinel. His steps thundered on the cold stone floor as he approached Shion, and the play of light and shadow revealed his colossal form: three meters tall, muscles sculpted like living rock, black skin that shone in the gloom, and honey-colored eyes that burned with a subtle, almost playful threat. He wore only a black fighter's cloak; he carried no blades or hammers—his fist alone was large enough to crush a man with a single grip.

  Shion, hooded, his head bowed, remained motionless. The white mask on his face contrasted with his gray hood and tunic, trembling with the deep fear his body betrayed. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath in the sudden, tense silence.

  Then Ygon's voice rolled like a rock down a mountain:

  — Remove the mask.

  It was a brutal command, resonating with the force of an ogre. That single tone was enough to make anyone's spine shudder. Shion raised his hand, his fingers trembling like dry twigs in a winter wind. Slowly, he slid his palm over the cold surface of the mask and removed it from his face, revealing fine, spiderweb-like scars and eyes full of anguish.

  Gaz, Shinxal, and Soap leaned forward, twisted smiles forming on their lips. Shion's humiliation was their entertainment. Their cruel gazes reflected the pure exultation of those who delight in a rival's fall—treating him like an insect underfoot.

  Effortlessly, Ygon lifted Shion like a rag doll. The commander remained motionless, his eyes vacant. Ygon then placed him in the center of the oval table, upon the symbols of the three great clans, now silent witnesses to the impending barbarity.

  Soap stepped forward, the short blade in his hand, his smile voracious:

  — Someone has to pay.

  With a single dry blow, the knife plunged into Shion's chest. The sound of the blade tearing flesh echoed like thunder. Soap let out a booming laugh; the other leaders, gathered in the shadows, joined him in a chorus of sadistic smiles. Gaz leaned in, fury contorting his face, and dug his nails into Shion's cheek, tearing away a piece of living flesh. Only then did the intense red of Gaz's hair become evident—a reflection of blood and rage.

  Shion gasped, his voice trembling:

  — My God...

  Shinxal raised his fist, laughing in delirium:

  — There is no God here—you are our toy. If the King wants to fuck us, then we will fuck you for your own stupidity!

  The hall filled with screams of torture, laughter of pleasure, and groans of agony. Shion's humiliation became a macabre spectacle, as the blades and nails of the traitors sealed his fate with exquisite cruelty.

  ***

  Dawn broke under a gentle rain and rays of sun, as if nature itself were sighing through the gray veil of dawn. Slowly, Kugutsu Island awoke in an unexpected splendor: forest and city merged, ancient roots intertwining with rooftops and wooden towers. Nature, technology, and culture fused into a single pulsating organism.

  Mother Nature exhaled her first waking breath—spring had burst forth in fervor. Migratory flocks carved arcs in the slate sky; swallows perched on vibrant branches as flowers bloomed, staining the gloom with vivid hues. Citrine leaves danced under the dew, and millenary roots twisted stronger than ever, ensuring the uninterrupted cycle of life.

  Then rose the great wall of the City of the Cross: twenty-five meters of stone and iron, a human bastion against the wilderness. The king's slaves worked incessantly, forging defenses while hidden forest villages provided tireless hands. Two-story houses in classic Japanese style gave the city an austere beauty, but its muddy streets—reddened with blood and earth—drew the stark contrast between opulence and ruin.

  The so-called "Pig Clan"—once numerous—had been exterminated; only Yuzuki remained, a solitary shadow of that past lineage. But now, who would raise the torch of vengeance?

  In the heart of the City of the Cross, the Black Tower rose like the tip of a spear pointed at the sky. In its high stained-glass windows, images depicted supplicant faithful praying to the king. Below, the Square of Tears teemed with kneeling souls, offering prayers of hope and prosperity to the Great Leaders and the King.

  Inside the Black Tower, a vast, torch-lit chamber revealed a long red table. In the main seat, Apacur—the King's right-hand man—sat in imposing silence. His white hair flowed past his waist, contrasting with the green eyes that inspired dread. Dressed in leather and iron armor, he bore the emblem of the bear forged in black steel on his chest. He was the executioner everyone feared.

  ***

  ### **The Judgment of the Three Clans**

  The Black Tower pulsed with shadows and dread. Before the Board of Fates, Apacur raised the dark scroll, and the glowing runes revealed only a single name: Kanji. A deathly silence descended upon the leaders and their assistants.

  With a dry crash, Apacur smashed his fist on the iron table. The chamber trembled.

  — Kanji has fled! HOW could this happen, you incompetents?! — His cavernous voice tore through the forced calm. — I arranged every detail of this judgment—and now I am ridiculed!

  Soap raised his chin, but the words died in his throat as Apacur raised a single finger in complete silence.

  — YOU KILLED Shion to cover up your failures... a foolish but functional audacity. Did you delight in his death? — Apacur glided between the leaders, almost dancing. — Look at yourselves: each of you is complicit in this chaos.

  He stopped before Gaz, his cold fingers brushing the man's cheek.

  — Everything will be fine. Taida avenged his brother. And you? You missed the chance to die with him. — Then, without warning, he spat: — Useless.

  Gaz trembled but dared not speak.

  Apacur turned to Soap, his eyes glinting like blades:

  — Soap, you hunt Kanji from this island... but you do not even dare to cross the sea. Meanwhile, Kanji thrives in Pangea while we remain silent!

  He snatched an eraser from the board and threw it forcefully at Soap's face. Soap's blade clattered to the floor. Soap staggered, his spirit drained, and his mask of arrogance slipped, revealing pure terror.

  — No... we cannot go any further — he stammered. — The law forbids it, my lord...

  Apacur pressed his lips as if containing a thunderclap. Wordlessly, he sat beside Soap and began to applaud in echo:

  — Bravo! Your duty is fulfilled.

  Still stunned, the leaders banged on the table in violent applause, the reverberations sounding like closing chains. Then Apacur leaned close to Soap's ear, his voice low as a distant thunder:

  — You are prudent, Soap... too prudent to remain a leader. Your clan, your family, your army—they will become the new Pig Clan.

  The blow struck Soap's chest like a dagger. He fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he pleaded:

  — Please, forgive me! I have failed... I beg for mercy!

  Minamino stood up, his steps echoing with a contained rage. Standing before Soap, he cast the weight of betrayal upon him:

  — Leader, let me take command. I will sail to Pangea and bring Yuzuki's head for sale.

  A frigid silence swept the hall. Soap raised his face, pale, his eyes rolling in horror:

  — Traitor!

  Cries of outrage tore through the chamber. But Apacur raised his hands, silencing the tumult with absolute authority:

  — SILENCE! — his voice thundered. — Minamino speaks the truth. The king drowns this island with his broken pacts. A new era is dawning, and there is no place here for the weak.

  The leaders hesitated. Gaz's voice broke, trembling:

  — Great Leader... we will follow your Orders!

  Shinxal and Ygon roared in fierce unison:

  — We are with you! Let this island be reborn—

  Apacur walked to the center, imposing himself like a god of ice:

  — The hunt for Yuzuki begins NOW. All who fail... will pay with blood. Let every beat on this table remind you of the price of failure.

  He raised his hand and placed it on the Board of Fates. The light flickered, and he spoke again, his voice reverberating off the stone walls:

  — Yuzuki has shattered the system... His clan, the Kanji, was the lifeblood of our pact with Kugutsu MAO. Their lineage was unique: the MAO demanded the sacrifice and lives of the Kanji—brother beside wife beside son—to sustain the pact. For over a thousand years, the Kanji were our shield and sword. We commanded the greatest Kugutsu of all, a power that terrified Pangea. Our people feared the King... but now, if they discover the King no longer holds the MAO, revolt will ignite. The fear will vanish, and everything will crumble.

  The hall fell into a stunned silence. Then Minamino stood up, a crooked smile spreading across his weary face:

  — The fault lies with the King!

  The impact of his words was immediate. Soap, still on his knees, burst into hysterical laughter, spitting heresy:

  — Heresy! You will be punished... executed!

  A collective whisper of outrage swept the chamber. The runes on the Board glowed with spiritual fury. Before the chorus of voices could call for execution, Apacur raised his arm, cutting through the air:

  — SILENCE!

  His voice was a thunderclap. Everyone fell silent, terror etched on every face.

  — He is right! I favor you, Minamino—wiser than these brainless animals. The people no longer need the King. That tyrant will sink this island; my people bleed. A new era must arise, and you are not part of it.

  A chaotic murmur arose once more. Gaz, driven by urgency, fell to his knees:

  — Great Leader, grant us a chance to prove our loyalty. We will obey every command.

  Shinxal and Ygon bellowed together:

  — We are with you! This miserable, weak island has long needed change. I want Pangea—to raze its cities and take the Golden Tree! I want to prove why the Kugutsu are the strongest—I yearn for power!

  Apacur raised his eyes, fixing them on the pair as if contemplating the dawn:

  — Then prepare yourselves. The hunt for Yuzuki begins now. Let every breath on this island pay for its weakness.

  At that moment, the chamber erupted in delirious applause, tears of anguish, and manic laughter, as the shadow of the Black Tower swallowed every witness to that dark decree. And with that instant, the fate of Kugutsu Island was cast into the flames, as the voices of its new allies echoed in a chorus of blood and the promise of war.