The moment stretched—silent, heavy. The cores hovered in the air, flickering with unstable energy, hundreds of them, suspended like stars in a fractured sky.

  Kuroda stood, battered but unbroken, his breath ragged but steady. His golden eyes flickered with amusement as he slowly lifted his palm. A soft hum filled the battlefield. A growing pulse of light gathered at the center of his hand.

  Then—

  “Detonate.”

  The pulse shot skyward. A radiant beam, thin but absolute, carved through the night. The second it connected—

  BOOM.

  Every single core erupted with violent, surging energy. The sky fractured into a thousand chaotic bursts, waves of raw Tamashiki energy crashing down like meteors. The city trembled beneath its weight.

  A desperate voice rang out—

  “Akira?!”

  Yumi stumbled forward, eyes darting across the battlefield. Akira y motionless, his body slumped against the broken pavement. She dropped beside him, her fingers pressing against his neck.

  A beat. A pulse. Weak, but still there.

  “He’s alive—” she exhaled, gncing at Ren, ”—but he’s too hurt to help here.”

  Ren, still half-conscious, gritted his teeth. He barely felt the pain anymore. Everything hurt. His body, his pride. His spirit.

  But his mind?

  His mind still screamed—Move.

  Coughing, wincing, he pressed his palms against the shattered ground, dragging himself forward. His arms shook, barely holding his weight, but he crawled. Inch by inch.

  Toward Ryuko.

  “Ryuko.”

  His voice rasped. The shadow-user groaned, shifting slightly, his body battered.

  “Ryuko, wake up.”

  Ren’s voice was hoarse, desperate.

  “We need to move. We need to do this.”

  Ryuko’s fingers twitched. A breath. A shallow, slow inhale.

  Then—a hand grabbed Ren’s colr and yanked him up.

  Yumi.

  She threw Ren’s arm over her shoulder, holding him steady, her expression sharp—determined.

  “Let’s go, old man.”

  A smirk, but her voice was unwavering.

  “He needs us right now.”

  Ren blinked. Then—he nodded.

  CUT BACK TO KURODA.

  The glow from his palm intensified. A sneer stretched across his lips. His fingers curled.

  “Detonate.”

  The moment the word left his mouth, Watari moved.

  No hesitation. No thought. Only instinct.

  The only thing he did—was release Takemikazuchi.

  CRACK—

  Lightning. A relentless, blinding surge of pure electrical energy tore through the battlefield like a raging storm.

  But this wasn’t a normal attack.

  It wasn’t aimed at Kuroda.

  No.

  Every bolt of lightning surged toward the cores.

  One by one, Watari hijacked their energy.

  The battlefield became an ocean of fshing light. A csh of forces beyond comprehension.

  The cores screamed, their chaotic pulses reacting to him, their unstable essence trying to resist—

  But Watari took it all.

  The energy funneled into his Reibaku, merging, condensing, like he was forging a new storm within his bde.

  And in return—

  It was killing him.

  His muscles burned. His skin felt like it was being ripped apart. His lungs strained. The sheer weight of the energy felt like it was caving him in from the inside.

  Yet—

  He stood.

  Through clenched teeth, through unrelenting pain—he held the storm.

  Then—

  Laughter.

  Low. Mocking.

  Kuroda watched, his smirk widening. Amused.

  “You think you can contain the power of all these cores?” he mused, tilting his head.

  Watari didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His body was on fire.

  Kuroda chuckled.

  “You think you can save all of these lives?” His voice was almost pitying. “You want to protect them all?”

  Then—he pced his palm over the deep ssh Watari had left on him.

  His smirk widened.

  “Initiate.”

  A tremor ran through his body. A sickening crack echoed through the battlefield.

  And then—

  He began to heal.

  Not slowly. Not subtly.

  Instantly.

  His skin pulsed—shifting, twitching, stitching itself back together.

  The gash sealed within seconds. The blood reversed, crawling back into his veins.

  He let out a slow, deep exhale. His body stilled.

  Then—

  He rolled his shoulders. Stretched his fingers.

  A slow smile curled on his lips.

  “Ahhh.” He inhaled deeply. “Now that… that feels good.”

  He cracked his neck. Let out a low chuckle.

  “Reborn.”

  Watari’s breath hitched. His body screamed in protest.

  And then—

  Footsteps.

  Soft. Unrelenting.

  They returned.

  Ren. Ryuko. Yumi.

  Bruised, bloodied, but standing.

  They stepped forward—standing in front of Watari.

  Kuroda’s gaze slowly shifted toward them.

  His golden irises gleamed with something almost… disappointed. “Are you guys here for round two?”

  He let the question hang in the air for a moment. Then, his smirk widened.

  “No, wait—” he mused, tapping his chin. “I guess that really wasn’t a round, was it?”

  He tilted his head slightly, his voice mocking. “It was more of a… domination.”

  Silence.

  He took another step forward.

  “But this time…” His voice dropped.

  His fingers flexed. His aura surged.

  “This time, we can make it an execution.”

  CUT TO BLACK.