The golden pillar of Yang energy had vanished.
After days of meditation beneath the sacred beam that pierced the Archive of Eternity, Raiyo finally opened his eyes. His breath was calm, yet his presence radiated like the dawn. The dense light that once enveloped him had dispersed into his veins, bones, and soul.
He rose slowly from the ground, his body wrapped in a thin shimmer of divine gold. The yang within him was no longer a flicker—it was a roaring flame. It surged through his being, wild and untamed, yet responsive to his will. He opened his right hand, and in a heartbeat, light condensed into form. A sword emerged—gilded, radiant, dense with divine pressure. It hummed with the promise of death to anything impure.
He shifted his left hand and summoned bands of golden chains, light forged into discipline. They coiled and danced like serpents of judgment, seeking to purge darkness.
Most importantly, his energy allowed regeneration. His wounds could mend; his aura could purify itself. Though the healing wasn't perfect, it was enough. Enough to fight longer. Enough to live when others would die.
It was time to go back to ... Yomimori.
He stepped once—and the world flashed. Within a dozen minutes, he stood at the edge of Yomimori, near the border that licked the sacred grounds of Harikiru. The landscape twisted unnaturally here. Trees bent like serpents in agony. The air grew heavy, saturated with dense Yin.
This was Cerberion's territory.
He wrapped his presence in the Yin that still lingered within him. It wasn't perfect, but it would serve. His body blurred, his aura faded, and he vanished into the forest like a ghost.
He stalked the shadows.
Kneeling beside a patch of torn earth, he examined tracks. Wolf tracks. Massive, clawed, double-printed. Dozens... no—hundreds... He followed them through fallen leaves, splintered bark, and the occasional puddle of blood. For over a kilometer, he crept silently, noting each snapped branch, each energy trail on the wind, every scratch on tree trunks—patterns only a beast would leave when returning to its lair.
But as he delved deeper, the Yin grew unbearable.
The air sliced like blades on his lungs.
He knew what it meant.
He stopped moving.
They were coming.
At first, it was a rumble. Then, like thunder, a hundred paws shattered the stillness. From every direction, wolves emerged. Two-headed, snarling, frothing. The ground trembled beneath them as they assembled with inhuman precision. He was surrounded.
And then, the beast spoke.
Not with words, but with presence.
Cerberion.
Towering over three meters tall, with three snarling heads, each larger than a man's torso, black fur streaked with crimson, and crimson eyes burning with malevolence. His growl silenced the entire forest.
Then came the command.
"Kill him!"
The wolves surged.
Raiyo didn't move.
Not until the first wave was inches away.
Raiyo raised his left arm.
Chains of Light!
From his palm burst a barrage of radiant links, each glowing with holy might. They shot forward like spears, piercing through the first wave of wolves before they even realized it. Flesh tore. Bones shattered. Nearly twenty bodies collapsed mid-sprint, impaled cleanly and suspended in the air.
From his right hand, the golden blade howled to life.
Lightfang!
He slashed sideways, a brilliant arc tearing through the wolves charging from his flank. Dozens fell, their bodies severed cleanly. Trees beyond them split apart, collapsing in a symphony of splinters and chaos.
In an instant, his chains twisted and tangled into a web of forged death—a brilliant weave of divine light—and cast it over the pack of wolves. It fell like judgment, ensnaring scores of wolves. He tightened it.
Crack. Crunch.Splash...
But they kept coming.
More, and more, and more.
He twisted, struck, crushed, impaled—yet still they came.
They lunged from every angle, their speed insane, their numbers endless. His mind screamed, but his body moved on its own. Each nerve burned. Each limb trembled. He dodged, blocked, retaliated. His chains became whips, his blade an extension of will. When his arms bled, he healed. When he staggered, he purified.
Don't stop. You stop, you die.
Jaw met fang. Bone met claw
And yet—he endured.
Again. And again. And again.
He fought.
Until silence.
The wind slowed.
No more growls.
Just his own ragged breath.
Huuh... Huh...
He stood surrounded by corpses. Blood seeped into the roots. His body trembled violently. His knees buckled, but he forced himself upright.
How many?
Five hundred?
No.
Over twelve hundred.
And then—he felt it.
Too late.
A shadow fell behind him.
He turned—barely.
A paw the size of his torso was already in front of him.
BOOM.
He flew.
Three trees exploded as he crashed through them, his bones cracking like twigs. The fourth tree caught him and shattered as he collapsed beneath it. Blood erupted from his mouth as he rolled across the ground like a broken doll.
But he stood.
No choice.
He clenched his fist. Purification Field.
Light surged beneath his skin, patching wounds, mending torn veins. His ribs were still broken, but he could breathe. He lifted his sword again.
Cerberion was upon him.
The beast was fast. Too fast.
Raiyo parried the first strike, but Cerberion's second head bit into his arm. He screamed, driving his blade upward into the beast's chest, but the third head's claws caught his leg and threw him again.
He landed hard, blood splashing from his lips.
Still—he rose.
The fight had begun.
For minutes that felt like eternities, they clashed.
Cerberion was monstrous. His strikes created craters. His roars shook the forest. His claws ripped through divine energy. His jaws broke the chains of light.
Raiyo adapted.
He evolved.
His sword became heavier, sharper—Lightfang: Dawnbreak. Each strike now unleashed a ripple of holy fire.
His chains thickened, reinforced with energy—Chains of Judgment. They could now slow Cerberion, if only for seconds.
His healing spell surged in intensity—Sacred Restoration. Now it closed deep wounds mid-battle.
And his purification became armor—Radiant Shell. A golden barrier cloaked him, softening fatal blows.
He adapted. He evolved. But…
Still—it wasn't enough.
Every second, he skirted death. A claw almost pierced his heart. A bite tore across his chest. His leg broke and healed mid-sprint. One heartbeat of hesitation—his hand was gone, torn like paper.
But he fought on.
His mind shattered and reformed. His pain became clarity. His despair became fury.
He roared back.
He wrapped Cerberion's middle head in chains, slammed him into a tree, and leapt, driving Dawnbreak into his throat.
The beast bucked.
Claws tore through Raiyo's stomach.
He screamed, purged the poison, and stabbed again.
Right head. Neck. Chest. The forest was a blur of gold and blood.
His vision was red.
His heartbeat, thunder.
His spirit—unbreakable.
And finally—
One last strike.
With his sword clenched between his teeth, eyes wild with fury, his one remaining hand channeled every chain, every thread of energy, every bit of rage, pain, and divine fire he had left—into a lance of light.
It struck the final head of Cerberion—through the mouth, into the skull, out the back.
The body twitched.
Cerberion's breath stopped.
The beast collapsed.
And Raiyo with it.
"..."
Silence.
He lay atop Cerberion's corpse, chest carved open, light flickering across his torn body. His hand was gone. Blood leaked endlessly.
But still—he healed.
Slowly, painfully.
He stared into the sky above Yomimori.
A sky that had no stars.
He exhaled.
And smiled.
«So...
who's next?»
To be continued…