The battlefield was silent. Still.

  Kuroda’s golden eyes flickered, scanning the destruction around him.

  The weight of his power had settled, and in the wake of his ascension—there was nothing left standing.

  Except Watari.

  And that realization cut deeper than any bde ever could.

  Kuroda exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching at his side.

  He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  No arrogance.

  No amusement.

  Only realization.

  “This entire time…”

  His voice was eerily quiet.

  “This entire time, I have called you worthless. I have wished you were never born.”

  The air around him crackled, Tamashkii swirling violently—an untamed storm of raw energy.

  But his eyes were locked onto Watari.

  “And yet, here we stand.”

  His teeth clenched.

  “I was denied this pce.”

  His voice was rising.

  “I was rejected, cast aside. And yet YOU—”

  He spat the word like venom.

  ”—were chosen?”

  He shook his head, fists trembling.

  “These people should have never fought for you.”

  His aura surged, swallowing the battlefield in its oppressive weight.

  “These people should just watch you die.”

  And then—

  He moved.

  Yumi barely had time to react before Kuroda appeared before her.

  A single, precise palm strike to her stomach.

  The air left her lungs in an instant, the force sending her rocketing through the ruins of a colpsed building.

  She crashed through steel and concrete, her body going limp before she even hit the ground.

  Kuroda didn’t look back.

  Akira moved next—

  He swung with his single hand, lightning roaring to life—

  SLICE.

  The world tilted.

  Akira’s remaining arm—gone.

  Severed at the elbow in a single fsh.

  Blood sprayed across the pavement.

  Kuroda caught Akira’s throat before he could even scream.

  “It’s time you stopped pretending to be a warrior.”

  CRACK.

  He drove Akira’s skull into the pavement.

  The force cratered the ground beneath them.

  A second passed.

  Then—

  Akira’s body went still.

  Kuroda dropped him like discarded trash.

  Ryuko’s rage exploded.

  “KURODA!—”

  Kuroda silenced him.

  A backhanded strike—one clean, effortless motion.

  The force ripped through the air, sending shockwaves that shattered the surrounding debris.

  Ryuko flew.

  His body smmed against a nearby skyscraper, embedding into the concrete like a broken ragdoll.

  Blood painted the walls.

  He didn’t move again.

  Kuroda exhaled slowly.

  His head turned.

  Only one was left standing.

  Ren didn’t move.

  He had already known this was coming.

  His fingers twitched, his breath slow.

  But he wasn’t scared.

  Instead—he was thinking.

  Sato’s words whispered in his mind.

  “The strongest door is not the one that cannot be broken, but the one that will never open for you.”

  He looked at Watari.

  And for the first time—

  He saw it.

  Watari had opened that door.

  That door of resonance.

  That door of truth.

  The thing Ren had always hesitated to reach for.

  And in that moment, Ren realized something.

  “One day…” he thought, “I’ll have to open it, too.”

  But today was not that day.

  Kuroda appeared in front of him.

  A hand closed around his throat.

  SLAM.

  The pavement cracked beneath them as Ren’s body whipshed against the ground.

  A sharp cough.

  Blood.

  He barely even registered it.

  Kuroda wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

  He turned his gaze back to Watari.

  Only they were left.

  Ren was fading in and out of consciousness.

  His Tamashkii screamed at him—

  RUN.

  Kuroda’s energy was raging, violent, monstrous.

  A swirling force of sheer uncontrolled supremacy.

  But Watari’s?

  It was still.

  A breath.

  A pulse.

  A presence so calm it was almost unreal.

  “This is… different.”

  And then—

  Watari finally spoke.

  His gaze swept over the battlefield.

  The blood.

  The destruction.

  His fallen friends.

  His grip on his Reibaku tightened.

  And then—he repeated Koharu’s words.

  “We have all reached true resonance.”

  Kuroda’s head snapped toward him, golden eyes fshing.

  “She wanted me to tell you…”

  Watari exhaled slowly, his voice unwavering.

  “This battle is ours.”

  Silence.

  Then—

  Laughter.

  Cold. Mocking.

  Kuroda’s shoulders shook.

  His smirk widened.

  His aura pulsed violently, golden energy fring outward.

  “So the Tenth Gate. Jūmonban.”

  He stepped forward, his sword materializing once more, warping reality with its very presence.

  “Do you actually believe—” his voice cracked slightly, his smirk twitching in irritation— “that this will make a difference?”

  His aura expanded—

  And then—

  He attacked.

  Watari moved.

  Takemikazuchi met Kuroda’s bde in a fsh of steel and lightning.

  The entire battlefield shook from the impact.

  A storm erupted.

  Their final battle had begun.