The ground trembled beneath their feet, as though the heart of the earth itself had been stirred awake in fury.
Molten lava sprayed high into the ash-choked sky, each droplet hissing as it touched stone. The horizon blurred in smoke and flame. Everything burned.
The battle had reached its peak.
The Flame Shikiban weren't holding back.
Neither were they.
"Enough of this!" Daigo's voice boomed, slicing through the chaos like steel through flesh.
His stance shifted. He drew in a deep breath, his katana reflecting the fire that danced around them. The ground beneath him cracked as raw energy surged through his muscles. Heat distorted the air, but his mind was sharper than ever.
Then he moved.
With a roar, he charged forward—faster than before.
His blade came down in a perfect arc, trailing silver light through the molten haze.
A Shikiban lunged to meet him, her hand engulfed in blazing fire.
The instant their powers collided, the world exploded.
A shockwave rippled through the battlefield.
Sparks screamed from the clash of metal and flame. Fire engulfed them both for a heartbeat, a blinding storm of red and gold.
Her body burned like a living furnace, resisting every inch of his advance.
But Daigo didn't flinch. He pushed through, the smirk never leaving his face.
"You can't beat fire with fire, boy," she snarled, eyes glowing like coals.
Daigo's grip tightened.
"That's what they said about ice."
He pulled back, twisting his blade, and lunged again.
But she vanished.
A burst of fiery sigils filled the air as five identical copies of her blinked into existence, forming a deadly circle around him.
"Flame Technique: Blazebind Mirage," her voice echoed from all sides.
The heat closed in.
Daigo's expression didn't change.
"Not impressed."
In the next instant, he vanished too.
A blur of motion. Steel slicing through illusions.
Each clone erupted into flame as his blade found its mark.
And then—he struck the real one.
A clean, brutal slash across her torso. Blood sprayed—but it vaporized in the heat.
She stumbled back, genuine shock in her eyes. Her illusions shattered.
"Impressive," she coughed, her tone strained.
"But you'll need more than that."
Behind her, more Shikiban closed in. The air shimmered with heat.
Daigo readied his stance again—but someone else stepped in.
A presence cut through the firestorm like a blade through silence.
"I think it's time to end this little dance."
Ishigo.
He moved like a ghost. One moment gone, the next—right in the middle of the fray.
His katana flashed.
A crescent of wind screamed across the battlefield, slicing through flames as if they were air.
A Shikiban tried to block, but their blades clashed with a deafening roar. The pressure alone shook the ground, rippling like a wave across the field.
"You think you can fight fire with fire?" Ishigo's voice was calm. Cold. Deadly.
"I don't need to fight like you."
In a blur, he vanished again.
Then reappeared behind one of them.
One clean strike.
His katana slashed through skin and molten tattoos.
The Shikiban choked, dropping to his knees, blood pouring from a wound too deep to recover from.
And then—
"Now this," came a voice, cocky and amused, "is what I came for."
Yeaga stepped into the chaos.
Flames burst from his boots with each step, propelling him forward like a demon dancing through fire.
His grin was wicked.
Katana spinning in one hand, he moved toward a Shikiban with hair like burning coals.
Their blades met—but instead of steel on flesh, a shield of fire exploded from the Shikiban's palm, blocking his attack.
Yeaga laughed.
A sound filled with dangerous joy.
"Nice trick," he smirked, "but you missed the part where I burn you."
He flicked his wrist.
His katana ignited—this time with eerie blue fire.
Cold. Unnatural.
He swung again, the flames hissing as they tore through the air.
The moment they collided with the shield, frost bloomed across the fire.
"You think you can freeze fire?" the Shikiban growled.
"Not freeze it," Yeaga whispered, his voice razor-sharp. "Just feed it something colder."
With a final slash, the shield shattered.
The blue flames licked up the Shikiban's arm, freezing the skin, then burning through it in the same breath.
The Shikiban staggered, stunned.
Ishigo called out from across the field, voice flat. "Impressive. But we're still outnumbered."
Yeaga shrugged.
"They're burning out," he said, wiping blood from his blade. "We're just getting started."
Then came the voice.
Deeper. Sharper. Radiating power.
"You're all amusing," the leader of the Flame Shikiban said softly, his eyes glowing crimson.
He watched the scene unfold with a calm that chilled even the air around them.
"But you forget who we are."
He raised his hand.
"Flame Technique: Scorching Judgment."
The air split.
Reality seemed to bend.
The lava fissures widened, spilling molten rivers like veins of the underworld itself. The sky flared with flame.
Then came the fire.
Not an attack. A judgment.
A tidal wave of burning light erupted from the Shikiban leader, devouring everything in its path.
The ground trembled as if the world itself screamed.
Daigo, Ishigo, and Yeaga didn't move.
They braced.
Daigo leapt high, katana raised, his aura flaring like a blazing star.
Ishigo twisted mid-air, sending out sharp, invisible slashes with a flick of his wrist.
Yeaga remained grounded, eyes narrowed, blade igniting once more with ghostly blue fire.
Then—collision.
Fire met fire. Cold met heat. Power met raw instinct.
The battlefield vanished beneath a wall of flame and energy.
For a moment—nothing but chaos.
Then silence.
When the smoke finally cleared, the Shikiban leader knelt.
Blood trickled down his chin.
His aura flickered, fire sputtering like a dying star—but he still smiled.
"You've got power," he rasped. "But you have no idea what you're dealing with."
Yeaga stepped forward.
The cold in his eyes was worse than any flame.
"Don't we?"