Shunjiro’s heart hammered, each throb echoing like a war-drum in his ears. A current, hot, electric, overwhelming, raced along his limbs, making every breath feel charged with lightning. He could hear the grit crumbling under his sandals, could smell iron in the wind, could see Suzu’s blood-red aura pulsing like a living heartbeat. The order rang across the shattered plaza. Tetsuo froze mid-lunge, stone skin cracked and bleeding. Yuki’s next frost wave died on her fingertips, the chill mist falling in harmless crystals. Daichi, chest still heaving from the last exchange, let the gale around him subside to a wary breeze. Even Sora pivoted, recognition flickering in his eyes. “Shunjiro?” Aiko breathed, half relief, half disbelief at the force in his voice. He stepped forward, fists unclenching, then clenching again as the unknown power flared hotter. A faint shimmer, neither lightning nor light, danced over his skin, invisible to all but those closest. Somewhere in the back of his mind echoing questions clamored Why now? What is this?, yet the answers would have to wait. Twenty paces ahead, Suzu slowed, crimson tendrils curling protectively around her frame. Her corrupted gaze slid from Sora, whom she’d been toying with, to the newcomer who dared command the field. Shunjiro planted his heel, braced his frame, and inhaled once, deep, steady, the way Yoshinori had drilled into him during focus exercises. The unfamiliar energy condensed, no longer a raging storm but a coiled spring ready to release. Behind him Itsuki, still on her knees, felt the surge and blinked through tears. That presence… it’s like he’s standing in sunlight even under this red sky. Hope, fragile but radiant, sparked in her chest. “Everybody clear a wide circle,” Shunjiro repeated, calmer now. “I’m ending this.” Sora grimaced, but shuffled back beside Yuki. Tetsuo spat dust, gave a curt nod, and dragged Daichi with him behind a toppled column. Aiko slipped to Yoshinori’s side, ready to swap him clear if things went wrong. A hush fell, broken only by distant crackles of fire and the low hum of the blood barrier overhead. Shunjiro rolled his shoulders once, feeling the power settle into muscle and bone. “Alright, Suzu,” he said, voice carrying across the rubble-strewn street. “Round two, the one that ends this.” And with that declaration hanging in the charged air, he shifted his weight forward, ready to launch. His gaze cut to Aiko, stationed a dozen paces to his right. Sweat darkened her fringe, but her stance was rock-steady. Shunjiro tipped his chin; she answered with the slightest nod. If the power surging inside him buckled, he trusted her to rip him clear before Suzu’s blade could finish what the corruption had started. Suzu felt the shift. A faint crease formed between her brows, wariness flickering where arrogant delight had been. She isn’t afraid, just unexpected, Shunjiro thought. Good. Keep her guessing. He roared and closed the distance. Each footfall made fractured cobbles shudder; arcs of pale light slithered across his shoulders like living cords. Suzu’s answer was immediate. A liquid hiss rose as blood spun from her palms, coalescing into a scythe-length blade jagged as broken glass. Crimson light danced along the edge, hungry. So she’s dropping the games, he noted grimly. Fine. Let’s dance for real. The first collision cracked the air like a fault line. Power flared, sand fused into glass under their feet. Shunjiro drove a straight punch that detonated against Suzu’s guard, impact booming like a drum. She slid back half a step, eyes flashing scarlet, then whipped the blood blade in a savage arc. He ducked, rolling beneath the slash; the weapon’s wake split a toppled column behind him with surgical ease. He vaulted up, pivoted, hammered a rising hook into her ribs. An instant pain wrinkled Suzu’s features. She staggered, breath hitching. It lasted a heartbeat. Red tendrils burst from the wound, knitting flesh even as she counter-swung. Shunjiro twisted away; the blade’s edge kissed his cheek, leaving a line of heat but no blood. Too close. From the battered square Itsuki called, voice tight with fear, “Be careful, Shunjiro!” He didn’t dare glance again. Focus or die. He pressed, chaining blows, elbow, knee, palm-strike, each one propelled by the dwindling thunder inside him. Cracks spider-webbed the ground; the air whirled with dust. Yet with every exchange the static around his fists dimmed, the omnipotent rush thinning like sand through an hourglass. Running out of time. Suzu noticed. Her lips curved in predatory understanding. The blood blade lengthened, the aura around her thickening like clotting ink. “You’re fading, little hero,” she purred. Shunjiro felt the truth of it, a sudden hollowness where rivers of power had been. He braced, ready to risk it all on one last surge… or trusting Aiko’s waiting swap if the spark guttered first. With a blur of crimson, Suzu pivoted on her heel, faster than a whip-crack. Her blood blade scythed outward, a perfect scarlet crescent aimed straight for Shunjiro’s heart. He tried to slip inside the arc, to deflect with the last flicker of power still sparking in his fists- but the thunder had already drained away. Half a breath too slow. The blade slid through flesh and bone as if he were no more than paper. A hot, blinding flash of pain erupted in his chest. For an instant Shunjiro simply stared, confused, watching a dark smear bloom across his tunic. Then the sound arrived. No… Not like this… Aiko’s scream tore through the square, raw, wordless anguish. Shunjiro’s knees buckled. The world tilted. Cold cobbles met his cheek as he crumpled, blood spilling in a widening pool that mirrored the barrier’s crimson glow. Voices crashed over him, muffled and distant: “Shunjiro!” “Hold on-don’t move him!” “Itsuki’s spent, Aira, anything left?” But his limbs wouldn’t answer. His pulse drummed in his ears, each beat weaker than the last. Everyone… I’m sorry… The thought fluttered, fragile, before darkness bled into the edges of his sight. Itsuki lurched forward, hands glowing only faintly, sparks of healing light guttering like dying fireflies. “I have nothing left,” she whispered, voice broken. Tears streaked the dust on her cheeks. Still she forced power into the wound, burning through the last shreds of spirit she possessed. The light fizzled, barely knitting skin before more blood seeped out. Across the square Sora froze, horror etching his features. Yuki’s breath caught in her throat, ice creeping involuntarily across her forearms as grief chilled her power. Tetsuo’s roar of fury shook loose stones from shattered facades, but even he dared not charge, Suzu’s blade hovered, dripping, ready to strike again. The Titans stood stunned. Daichi’s wind died to a whisper, disbelief stark in his eyes. Hiroki’s flames guttered, betrayed by a tremor of fear. Suzu lowered the scythe, lips curling in a cold, satisfied line. “Little hero,” she murmured, voice almost gentle. “You bleed after all.” For the first time since the fight began, the battlefield fell utterly silent- save for Shunjiro’s ragged, slowing breaths. And in that hush a new dread settled: their leader lay bleeding out, and the darkness had never felt closer. Aiko’s breathing hitched, every pulse of Shunjiro’s blood against her palms a hammer-blow of guilt. He trusted me to pull him out. I was too slow. This is on me. Suzu watched the anguish with chilly detachment. Crimson rivulets curled lazily around her ankles, the living blood waiting for its mistress’s next command. “Another bright spark snuffed out,” she murmured, tilting her head as though inspecting a curios­ity. “How many more will I extinguish before you finally accept your weakness?” Itsuki knelt over Shunjiro’s motionless form, tears streaking soot-stained cheeks. Her healing light sputtered, faint, fragile embers against the gash that refused to close. “Stay with me… please, stay with me,” she whispered, voice raw. Each ragged breath Shunjiro drew sounded thinner than the last. Yoshinori dragged himself upright beside a toppled column, lightning skittering along his arms despite the tremor in his muscles. He shot Aiko a quick, resolute glance. We can still save him, but only if we end her now. Tetsuo planted his stone-shrouded fists in the rubble, jaw clenched so hard his teeth creaked. “I’m done watching friends drop,” he growled, rising to his full height. Dust cascaded from his shoulders like gravel-rain. On the far flank Sora tightened his grip on his katana, knuckles white. A strip of cloth bound the gash across his palm. The ice-wielder stood at his shoulder, frost wreathing her forearms in jagged gauntlets. Her eyes, normally soft, were chips of winter steel. “We make this count, Sora,” she said under her breath. “For Lars, for Ryota… for him.” Sora answered with a curt nod, eyes never leaving Suzu. Daichi limped to the line, wind spiralling around his heels despite the blood caking his leg. “One shot left in the tank,” he muttered, wiping dust from his brow. “Let’s make it hurricane-sized.” Aiko pushed shakily to her feet, stepping in front of Itsuki and Shunjiro, shielding them with her own slight frame. She met Suzu’s red gaze head-on. “You’re not touching them again.” Her voice quavered, but the resolve behind it rang clear as tempered steel. Suzu’s smile widened, predatory. “The guilt makes you brave, little thief. I wonder how brave you’ll be when I peel your soul open.” Yoshinori Sparks flickered brighter. “Get ready,” he barked. Instinct took over. Tetsuo shifted left to draw focus, Sora and Yuki mirrored right, and Daichi’s currents began to coil upward, gathering for a single, sky-splitting blast. Aiko clenched her fists. The space around her blurred, her swap-field primed, ready to rip comrades out of harm’s path in a blink. I won’t be late this time, Shunjiro… I promise. Behind her, Itsuki pressed harder on the wound, tears falling onto Shunjiro’s chest. The golden glow flickered, but did not die. “Hold on,” she whispered, half prayer, half command. “Hold on till we bring her down.” Six battered fighters squared their shoulders, the red barrier’s light washing across determined faces. Across the broken plaza Suzu raised her scythe, blood spiralling into fresh, wicked blades. The final round was about to begin.