The battlefield was silent.

  Not the kind of silence that followed victory.

  The kind that followed something wrong.

  Faint wisps of residual Tamashkii energy crackled in the air, flickering like dying embers. But the spot where Hyouma had stood—where he had been—wasn’t a pce anymore. It was just… nothing.

  Kaito swallowed hard. “He… he just…”

  No one answered.

  Because no one had words for it.

  Amano, still battered from the fight, braced herself against the wall, her breathing shallow. Her fingers trembled against the stone, her wide eyes locked onto the empty space where Hyouma had once been.

  “He just…” she whispered.

  Tetsuo ran a hand down his face, his usually steady demeanor visibly shaken. “That wasn’t a battle.”His voice was quiet, but firm. “That was suicide.”

  Ren exhaled sharply, arms crossed. His fingers tapped against his bicep, thoughts running too fast to make sense of them.

  “Was it suicide?” he muttered. “Or was it… something else?”

  Watari didn’t say anything.

  He couldn’t.

  His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His thoughts weren’t on Hyouma. Not entirely.

  He was still stuck on Ayase’s speed.

  On Koharu’s speed.

  On Ikazuchi’s limitations.

  On his limitations.

  He had just watched a man rip his own soul apart before his eyes.

  And yet, all he could think about was how incompetent he was.

  Ayase, as usual, was already moving.

  The lieutenant of the Jūmonban rolled out his shoulders, adjusting his coat like this was just another inconvenience—like he hadn’t just watched a man disintegrate in front of him. Without sparing a gnce at the others, he turned to Kusunagi and spoke in a low voice.

  Watari barely caught the words.

  “…Not here.”

  Kusunagi, still tense, nodded. Then, without a wasted movement, Ayase lifted a hand.

  A sharp slice through the air—

  A rift opened.

  The golden mist curled, swirling into an open gateway, the same elevator-like realm that had brought them here.

  Ayase exhaled, motioning toward it.

  “Come on.” His voice was calm, unreadable. “We’re heading back.”

  No one argued.

  But no one moved at first, either.

  Then, one by one, they stepped inside.

  Kaito lingered at the edge of the battlefield, his gaze flickering toward Amano. She was still slumped against the wall, head lowered.

  For some reason, he hesitated.

  “…You good?”

  Amano exhaled, her voice barely audible.

  “I-I try to always prioritize my own life, but watching people die….doesn’t really make me feel hopeful either. So…..No.”

  Kaito nodded slowly. “Yeah, me neither.”

  Then, without another word, he stepped into the rift.

  The battlefield was left behind.