The world moved in slow motion.
Nekron lunged—his Breath-Stealer sliced through the mist like a ship breaking through a dark ocean. The fiery black blade cut through the space where Ken stood… But…
Ken dissolved.
His body shattered and melted into the mist. Dark particles scattered like ash from a dispersed funeral pyre—merging with the shadows devouring the battlefield.
Among the ranks of Tartarus…
Death whispered.
A slender blade emerged from the darkness
—SCHLIK!— A tendon severed.
—THUK!— A spine shattered.
Short screams were buried in throats before they could be born—only the hiss of final breaths lingered like hot mist in the hellish air.
Then…
From the darkness beneath the hood—two violet points ignited. Eyes from a suddenly opened gateway to the void.
BZZZZZZZ—KRAK!
Purple lightning struck with madness.
Not from the sky—but crawling from the very roots of the shadows. It spread through the air like ancient vengeance, electrocuting and binding the creatures of Tartarus.
Their bodies stiffened—
Muscles locked uncontrollably—
Mouths froze in silent screams as the lightning fried their nerves from within.
Not even their three generals were spared—
Nekron trembled—his teeth clattering like stones in a can.
Belial hunched over—his joints straining against the torment.
Zephiron was driven into the earth—his claws scraping the ground until they bled.
Half of the Tartarus army fell.
The thick smell of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air.
Amidst the ruin...
Zephiron rose slowly. His knees trembled. The fire in his eyes burned fiercer, more feral.
"You..." he growled, sulfurous smoke pluming from between his broken teeth. "You vile bastard... I will carve you to pieces right here...!"
He shot forward—
Not like lightning—but like a furious cannonball.
His twin blades—A Somber Wind—spun, creating a vortex of pure rage.
Ken... dissolved once more, his body melting back into the shadow-dust for the umpteenth time.
But this time—
Zephiron raised his left hand as if he knew exactly where Ken would go next.
—SKYARRGGH!—
One of his blades tore loose—spinning, whirling, slicing through the space where Ken was attempting to rematerialize.
KLANG!
Ken appeared, half-formed—immediately parrying with his own slender sword. The metallic vibration echoed in both their bones.
Belial did not waste the opportunity.
His wounded hand clawed at the misty air—the shadows around Ken were sucked toward the giant's palm like water flowing down a drain. The space around Ken became empty, bright—exposed.
"Where will you run now, you slippery bastard?" Nekron whispered, triumph flashing in his eyes.
The Slayer lunged.
Breath-Stealer swept horizontally—a strike designed to decapitate at neck-height.
But... Ken…
dropped low.
Slow. So terribly slow.
Every joint resisted the strain.
His spine curved—bending like a hunter's bow drawn taut—ready to unleash.
The black blade passed just millimeters above his hood—
slicing through tattered cloth that scattered like dead butterflies.
But it wasn't over…
With killer's instinct, Nekron drove his right knee upward—
a hellish warhammer—
—WHUMPF!—
It struck true, right into the shadowy figure's face.
Time froze.
Tattered hood-shreds flew apart.
Shadow-dust swirled like storm-ash.
And behind it—revealed for just an instant—
A nose—pale white, straight, unmistakably human.
Streaked with bright, vivid red blood..
Not black. Not violet. But mortal, crimson red.
Ken was thrown backward—
his body floating limply like a broken doll—before crashing heavily into the earth, stirring dust and ash. The mist curled around him again, pulling him back into concealment.
But the image of that bleeding, human nose was burned into the retinas of every Tartarus creature who witnessed it.
IS HE HUMAN…?!
...HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?!"
_ _ _
The world pulsed in a suspended tempo…
Ken rose from the dust. Slowly, agonizingly slow. His body swayed—his joints creaking like an old ship about to sink. One hand gripped the earth, now soaked with demon blood.
The other hand pulled the torn hood—hiding what remained of a face too sacred for the eyes of Tartarus.
...He raised both hands. Level with his shoulders—
A summoning to the sky.
And the sky… answered.
A roar of violet lightning struck down like vengeful roots, shocking every Tartarus creature without distinction—
Thunder cried out with the fury of the cosmos, resonating deep into the very marrow of bones.
Shadowmist descended like a theatre curtain—swallowing the last of the light, the last of hope, the last of vision. Concealing Ken once more.
"Hiding again, coward!" Nekron bellowed, his voice cracking with frustration.
But a reply came—not from one direction, but from inside the very skulls of every being on the battlefield.
"You call me coward..."
Ken's voice was low, clear, soul-piercing—
"...because I dance within mist and shadow while you still burn your victims with fire and lava?
Hypocrite."
Nekron snarled like a rabid dog.
"Attack, you dogs!!" His command echoed hollowly. The remaining Tartarus forces took a step back—
Their hellfire eyes flickered with fear.
Until one of them was yanked forward by Nekron.
"Where do you think you're going, you little bastard?"
Nekron tore the helpless demon's spine out and hurled the body into the heart of the empty mist.
ZZZZTTT—!
A wisp of mist brushed against the demon's wrist—
then cleaved it cleanly from foot to crown—
like a pear leaf sliced by a celestial scalpel.
Two symmetrical halves of the body collapsed—
followed by a silent flood of black blood pooling across the ground.
"Slaves?!" Nekron mocked, his fiery tongue lashing the air.
You're nothint but worthless filth!"
His rage was cut short by Zephiron, whose voice trembled with pain from his shattered ribs.
"Control our forces, you fool! Have you forgotten our true purpose?!"
Amid their dispute, Belial tried again—
His massive hand clawed into the thick mist—
KRRRCH…!
His fingers were severed cleanly.
Five chunks of demon flesh fell—
spewing thick, boiling black fluid across the ground… followed by a roar of agony that shook the rubble.
Nekron took charge.
His hands gathered hellfire—
a swirling crimson sphere forming in his palm before he hurled it upward—
BOOOM—!
The explosion briefly illuminated a small radius—
but the light was swallowed by the mist like a lone oil lamp in a storm.
WHUUSH!
A giant fireball suddenly shot from the ranks of the Tartarus army.
It burned through the shrubs—
clearing a football field-sized line of sight.
And there—
Ken was running circles around the three hell generals.
Not dashing—but moving with a strange rhythm—
his steps so methodical that none could decipher his intent.
"What is this madman doing?" Belial muttered, blood still dripping from his mutilated hand.
The three generals exchanged glances—
wordless—yet they knew what to do.
Nekron slashed from the front—a vertical strike.
Zephiron from the left—aiming for Ken's blind spot with his twin blades.
Belial charged from the right—his warhammer slamming down like a meteor.
Ken…
…pulled a spherical object from his robe.
A smoke bomb—an heirloom of the assassins.
He smashed it against the ground—
PLOOF!
A thick curtain of mist instantly enveloped him.
But the three demons did not stop.
They slashed wildly—
SWISH! CRAAACK! THUMP!
Dark energy shredded the air—
forcing the mist to part briefly—
revealing Ken parrying Nekron's sword.
KLANG—!
Assassin's blade against Breath-Stealer. But…
Ken slipped while blocking the furious strike—losing his balance.
Showing no mercy,
the twin blades swept horizontally—
SHKREEEK—!
Ken's abdomen was torn open.
White robes splattered—
drenching the sacred soil with the scent of fresh blood.
Ken did not scream.
His eyes flickered slightly beneath the hood.
He pushed his entire body weight—forcing Breath-Stealer downward, driving the blade deep into the earth.
BRUUKK—!
The impact lifted all the dust around them.
—A flash of silver shot forth.
Ken's slender blade sliced toward Nekron's neck—
a strike so swift the air itself hissed as it split.
It was followed immediately by another slash aimed squarely at his head.
KRAAK—!
Nekron jerked his head back—
but not enough. Two of his horns went flying—
his crown of pride now lay fallen in blood-soaked mud.
But it wasn't over—
Ken spun toward Zephiron. His knee shot up with blinding speed.
—KRAAAASHH!—
A brutal impact slammed into the already cracked ribs of the demon.
The sound of breaking bones echoed like dry wood being snapped.
Two daggers appeared in Ken's hands—
one from his belt, one from his sleeve.
They plunged into Zephiron's heart and throat.
Black blood gushed from the demon's mouth—
From the other side, Belial charged with his warhammer that blotted out the horizon.
But Ken had already leaped back, calmly adjusting his hood.
Strands of shadowmist tore into Belial's arms and chest—
leaving behind wounds that festered with black energy.
In an unexpected moment—
a miracle unfolded...
The shadowmist embraced Ken,
stitching the gash across his abdomen with threads of darkness.
The bleeding ceased,
but his skin now reflected the pallor of dead moonlight.
His robes restored themselves—
whiter now, whiter than cemetery snow,
colder—exceeding the chill of the first betrayal.
And the mist whispered in a tongue forgotten,
unspoken for millennia,
awakened once more.
And from within the fog—
two violet points ignited again.
Silent,
but their message was clear