Era's Throne Room, Present

  Era sits on his throne, not attending to anything. Just sitting there, looking forward, hands resting on the armrests. Waiting.

  The doors open.

  Niche walks in and stops in the center of the room.

  "Father." Niche’s voice echoes off the walls.

  Era doesn't respond.

  "I've come to claim your title."

  Era's expression doesn't change. "Have you."

  "The purification is complete. I can feel it." Niche raises his hand. White flame dances across his fingers. The skin underneath doesn’t heal. He doesn’t care. "Everything you tried to burn out of me is gone."

  "And you think that makes you worthy."

  "No. But it makes me stronger than you."

  Era says nothing. The room gets warmer. The light coming off Niche builds slowly, and his eyes glare into Era’s in a way that tells Era everything.

  Era leans back slightly. "What would you do with my throne?"

  Niche blinks, caught off guard. "What?" he says. The light stops intensifying.

  "If you took it. My throne. If you became what I am. What would you do?"

  "I would..." Niche pauses. "I would rule. The way you do."

  "And what way is that?"

  "I don't know. The way gods rule."

  "You don't know." Era's voice is flat. "You came here to take everything I have and you don't know what you'd do with it."

  "I'd figure it out."

  "Would you."

  "Yes."

  Era watches him for a long moment. The white light is still pulsing off Niche's skin. Still beautiful. Still radiant.

  "Why do you want this?" Era asks.

  "Because I've earned it."

  "Have you?"

  “I survived everything you put me through,” Niche says. “The punishments. The training. The memories.” His flames start intensifying again. “You broke me down and I'm still standing. I'm standing here in front of you, stronger than I've ever been.”

  "You think I was trying to make you stronger."

  "Weren't you?"

  Era doesn't answer immediately. He just looks at Niche with something Niche can't read.

  "The purification wasn't about strength," Era says finally. "It was about cleaning. Removing the parts of you that would destroy you."

  "Well it worked. I feel clean."

  "Do you."

  "Yes."

  "Then why are you here?"

  Niche goes quiet for a moment. "What do you mean?"

  "If you feel clean. If the purification worked. Why did you come to my throne room to challenge me?"

  "Because I'm ready."

  "Ready for what?"

  "To take your place."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm stronger than you now."

  "Why does that matter?"

  "What?"

  "If you're clean. If you're whole. If the purification worked the way it was supposed to." Era tilts his head. "Why do you need to be greater than me?"

  Niche opens his mouth. Closes it.

  "A clean soul doesn't need to prove anything," Era continues. "A clean soul doesn't walk into God's throne room and demand his seat."

  "I'm not demanding. I'm taking."

  "Why?"

  "Because I can."

  "Can you?"

  "Yes."

  Era studies him. The silence stretches. Then, slowly, he smiles.

  "You look beautiful," Era says. "The light suits you. Anyone who saw you right now would think you were something holy."

  "I something holy."

  "Your surface is. Your core is black."

  Niche's hands clench. The flame in his palm flares brighter.

  "You're wrong."

  "Am I?"

  "I'm clean. I felt it. This morning. The purification ended and I felt it."

  "You felt something end. You assumed it was the rot leaving." Era's voice is quiet. "It wasn't. It was your ability to see it."

  "That doesn't make sense."

  "The rot is still there. It just finished spreading. There's nowhere left for it to go. So it stopped moving. And you mistook it for purity."

  "No."

  "You're more corrupted now than when you arrived."

  "No."

  "And you can't see it. That's what breaks my heart." Era rises from his throne. "You came here glowing. Divine. Convinced you've transcended everything. And you've never been more lost."

  "Shut up."

  "You wanted to be greater than God. But you can't even see what you are."

  "I said shut up."

  Niche steps forward. The marble cracks beneath his foot. His whole body is burning now, white light pouring off him in waves.

  "Fight me,” Niche says, almost pleading. “Stop talking and fight me. I'll show you what I am."

  Era looks at Niche, staring directly into his eyes for the first time.

  Something shifts in Era’s expression. A hint of disdain. The smallest crease between his brows, like he's looking at something disappointing.

  Then the pressure hits.

  Niche's legs give out. His body crumples to the floor, not because he chose to fall but because his muscles stopped responding. He tries to push himself up but nothing happens. His arms won't move. His legs won't move. He can't even feel the signals leaving his brain anymore, like the connection between his mind and his body has been severed.

  He's not being held down. He's just...off.

  The white light flickers and dims.

  "What—" Niche’s voice comes out strangled. Weak.

  Era descends the steps. One at a time. Unhurried. He hasn't moved his hands. Hasn't gestured. Hasn't done anything visible at all.

  Just that look. That tiny flicker of annoyance.

  And Niche can't do anything but lie there.

  "You wanted to know what you are," Era says. "This is what you are. Someone who can't even stand in my presence when I stop holding back."

  Niche tries to move. Tries to summon fire. Nothing happens.

  "I didn't do anything to you," Era says. "I'm just not pretending anymore. The distance between us isn't something I created. It's just what exists."

  He stops in front of Niche.

  "The purification was supposed to clean you. Slowly. Piece by piece. I would create pressure, and you would release it. That was the design." Era's voice is tired now. "But you didn't release it. You held it. Buried it. All of it aimed at me without you even knowing."

  Niche doesn't respond. His brain sends the signal to speak but it goes nowhere. His mouth doesn't move.

  "You don't even know you hate me. You think you came here because you're powerful. Because you've earned this."

  Era circles him slowly.

  "Your core was good once. When you first came to me. Damaged. Broken. But good underneath. I thought I could clean it. Remove the rot without destroying what was there."

  He stops behind Niche.

  "But every time I cleaned, more of you disintegrated. The rot wasn't a layer. It was everything. The more I removed, the more hollow you became."

  Era walks back around to face him.

  "The only way to fix you would be to flush everything out. Leave you empty. A shell." His expression shifts. Sad. Tired. "I didn't want to do that. I thought you could live with it. Contain it."

  He shakes his head.

  "I was wrong."

  The white light is gone now. Niche lies there, eyes open, staring at nothing. He looks like an animal that wandered into the wrong territory and knows it's already over. The fight is done. He lost before it even started.

  And now there's nothing left but the wait.

  All that confidence. All that rage. All that divine power he thought he had. Gone. Meaningless. He walked into this room thinking he was a god, and now he's lying on the floor realizing he was never even close.

  He can't take it back. He can't undo the words. He can't rewind to before he opened that door and decided to challenge something he didn't understand.

  This is how it ends.

  Era crouches down in front of him. His face fills Niche's vision. Calm. Exhausted. And that look again, the one Era's given him countless times. He still doesn’t know what it means.

  "I name you Kuroro."

  The word settles into Niche's chest like a brand. He feels it burn somewhere deeper than his skin, somewhere that won't heal.

  "The king who disobeyed God."

  Era holds his gaze. There's no anger in his eyes anymore. Just exhaustion, like he knew it would end like this but did it anyway.

  "You wanted my throne. You wanted to be greater than me." He tilts his head slightly. "Maybe you'll learn to control it out there. Maybe you'll find a way to live with what you are."

  He presses his palm against Niche's forehead. The touch is warm. Gentle, almost.

  "Maybe you'll burn everything down and never understand why."

  Niche feels tears sliding down his face. He doesn't know when they started.

  "I'm sorry," Era says quietly. "I tried."

  The world tears.

  Old City, Present

  Niche slams back into his own time, gasping. He's on his knees in the abandoned building, the time crystal dim in his hand.

  Grocery Store, Present

  A shudder runs through Raizen. The sword rattles against Maruka’s side.

  "What's wrong?" Maruka asks.

  "Something's..." Raizen's voice drops. "No. Not again."

  "What? What is it?"

  "This feeling." He's not being sarcastic anymore. "I haven't felt this since…"

  Maruka stops walking. "You're scaring me."

  "I need to go. Now."

  "But Niche said—"

  "Niche is in danger. Real danger." Another shudder runs through the blade. "He's been... Era..."

  "Who's Era?"

  "Put me down."

  "What? Here? In the cereal aisle?"

  "Put me DOWN."

  She sets him against a shelf, hands shaking.

  The sword begins to glow. Then, in a flash of light, a cat materializes where the blade was.

  Before she can speak, Raizen bolts down the aisle and disappears around the corner.

  Maruka stands there, mouth open, staring at the empty space where a divine weapon just turned into a house cat and sprinted away. Other shoppers are starting to look.

  She has no idea what just happened.

  Old City, Present

  Niche's body shakes. Not from the journey. From recognition.

  The building is crumbling around him. His body feels wrong, too heavy, too weak. He looks at his hands. The purity he built up over years with Era is gone.

  He's just Niche again.

  He stumbles outside. The memories crash over him in waves, not viewing them but them.

  them.

  He falls against a wall, breathing hard.

  Which one is me? Which memories are real?

  He slides down the wall, sitting in the rubble.

  Roy knew not to trust anyone. He learned that when Lin betrayed him. When his grandmother bled out on the floor.

  But I trusted Raizen. Trusted the system. Trusted that trying would be enough.

  Tears come now. Real ones. He can't stop them.

  Did I really hold Maruka as a child? Did she really hold me? Or is that something I wanted so badly that I made it true?

  I don't know. I don't know anymore.

  He tries to summon flames. The massive ones he wielded in the throne room. The power that made him feel like a god for those few seconds before Era crushed him.

  Sparks. Nothing but sparks.

  "No."

  He tries again. Focuses harder. Pulls from somewhere deeper.

  Sparks.

  "NO!"

  He punches the wall. His knuckles split open and blood runs down his fingers. It's not healing instantly like it should. The regeneration is there but muted. Slower.

  He's weak. He's pathetic. He challenged a god and got sent back like a misbehaving child.

  Kuroro. The king who disobeyed God.

  That's what I am now. That's what he branded me.

  His phone buzzes. He pulls it out with shaking hands. Twenty-seven missed calls. A text from Maruka reads, “Where are you? It's been a day.”

  Footsteps. Fast. Urgent.

  Niche looks up.

  Raizen rounds the corner in human form, sword drawn, eyes locked on Niche with an intensity he's never shown before. He's not sarcastic. He's not bored. He's terrified.

  "Niche." Raizen raises the blade. "Whatever you're feeling right now, you need to stop. You need to breathe. You need to—"

  "You came to stop me?"

  Raizen doesn't answer. His grip tightens on the sword.

  Niche scoffs. "You came to stop ?"

  He takes a step forward. Raizen takes a step back. Instinct. The same instinct prey has when a predator moves.

  "I spent months under Era's thumb. Months being told I wasn't good enough. That my core was rotten. That I needed to be fixed." Another step. "And now you come at me with a sword?"

  "Niche, listen to me—"

  "That's not my name."

  Niche's eyes narrow. Something shifts in his expression.

  The pressure hits.

  Raizen's legs buckle. His knees hit the ground and the sword clatters beside him. He tries to push himself up but his arms won't respond. His body won't listen.

  This feeling. Raizen's mind races. I've felt this before. When I first met…Era.

  "How..." Raizen forces the word out. "How are you doing this?"

  Niche laughs. It's not a warm sound.

  "You don't think I prepare?" He crouches down. "I noticed some energy stays with me for a while after I interacted with those pure royals." Niche gags at the thought of the robed man and Era. "So, when Era pressed me into the floor, I held onto as much of it as I could."

  Raizen's eyes widen.

  "This feeling. Era did this to me. Made me feel helpless. Weak."

  Niche stands back up, looking down at Raizen.

  "I hated it."

  He tilts his head.

  "But I understand it now. The power to make others kneel. The power to force anyone under you." A smile spreads across his face. Something cold. Something wrong. "I'm glad to have it."

  Raizen tries to speak. His mouth won't move.

  "You've guided sun bearers for years. Watched them all fail. Watched them burn." Niche looks at Raizen's human form, still pinned to the ground. "Now you get to watch what happens when one of them wins."

  He reaches out his hand.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Raizen's eyes widen. "What are you—"

  His body starts to shimmer. Dissolve. The human form unravels against his will, matter collapsing inward, compressing, reshaping. He tries to fight it, tries to hold his form together, but it's like pushing against a current that's already swept him away.

  In seconds, there's no human anymore. Just a compact sword, resting in Niche's open palm.

  The blade vibrates. Raizen tries to speak. Tries to emerge. Tries to do .

  Niche closes his fingers around the hilt.

  "Shut up."

  The vibration stops.

  Raizen, the ruler of the memorial world, goes silent. Not because he chose to, but because Niche made him.

  For a moment, nothing happens. Niche stands there, sword in hand, breathing.

  Then heat starts rising from his body.

  It starts at his chest. The white robe Era gave him begins to glow, orange light spreading through the threads like veins filling with fire.

  It ignites.

  Not an explosion, but a quiet burn. The white fabric catches and withers, curling and blackening, flaking away like ash.

  Piece by piece, Era's clothes disappear. Underneath, Niche’s real clothes. The dark layers. His long, draped coat. Everything he wore before Era.

  He never changed. He just covered it up.

  His hair starts growing. Past his ears. Past his shoulders. Down his back. The excess energy inside him needs somewhere to go. His body can't contain all of it, so it pushes outward.

  When it stops, his hair reaches his lower back.

  He stands there. No white robe. No pious disguise. Just him, his original clothes, and the sword in his hand.

  Raizen doesn't speak. Can't speak. Niche is still holding him silent.

  Niche holds Raizen up and sees his reflection in the blade.

  "Beautiful. I'm beautiful."

  He tilts it, watching himself.

  "The hair. Look at the hair. It's so long now, how I like it. And the outfit. I picked this. This is mine. Era didn't...he couldn't take this."

  He laughs. Short and sharp.

  "Beautiful. I'm so beautiful. Say it."

  Nothing.

  "I'M BEAUTIFUL."

  His element perception flickers on.

  He goes still.

  "I can see."

  He turns. Slowly at first. Then faster.

  "I can . Raizen, I was blind. For . In Era's domain I couldn't... and now I can..."

  ". He took this from me for . And now it's ."

  His hands are shaking.

  "Of course it's back. Of course. Because I'm . I was always going to get it back. Era couldn't keep it from me forever."

  The memories hit next. Everything floods in again, perfectly clear. Roy. The grandmother. The throne. The memorial world. Kuroro.

  "I remember. I remember ."

  He's pacing now.

  "I know who I am. All of it. Every version. Roy. Kuroro. Niche. I'm all of them and I ."

  His voice is climbing.

  "Era tried to make me forget. Tried to bury it. But it's . My memories. My . And I have them back."

  The energy floods in. Raizen's stored power. Weeks of it. All at once.

  "OH."

  He staggers and catches himself.

  "Oh that's...Raizen. That's . That's everything you had."

  He's laughing now.

  "And now it's . You were just holding it for me. Keeping it safe until I got back. Good. GOOD."

  He flexes his hands. Power crackles between his fingers.

  "I'm stronger than you now. Stronger than Raizen. Do you understand what that ?"

  He senses five heat signatures. Three blocks away. Shifters.

  He raises his hand.

  "Watch."

  They ignite with eternal flames from the inside.

  "I didn't even move. I just it. They're three blocks away and I

  them into flames."

  He's grinning.

  "Eternal flames. They can't put those out. can. They're going to

  until there's nothing left."

  His eyes are too wide.

  "I can do that to . Anywhere. Just by ."

  He looks down at his arm. His wounds, sealing and closing up like they were never there.

  "I'm healing."

  He stops pacing.

  "I’M HEALING."

  He grabs Raizen and presses the blade to his forearm, dragging it across. Deep. To the bone.

  It seals. Two seconds. Gone.

  He does it again.

  Gone.

  Again.

  Gone.

  "Raizen. Raizen, are you seeing this?"

  Raizen doesn't answer.

  Niche cuts his throat open.

  Blood pours down his chest. He's still standing. Still talking. The wound closes before he finishes his sentence.

  "NOTHING. It does NOTHING to me."

  He stabs himself in the stomach and pulls the blade out.

  Gone.

  "I can't die. I literally... Raizen... I CAN'T DIE!"

  He's cutting faster now. Arms. Legs. Chest. Face. Not theatrical. Compulsive. Testing over and over. Making sure.

  Blood everywhere. Soaking his clothes. Pooling at his feet. And no wounds. Not one.

  "Era pinned me to the floor. He made me feel like NOTHING. Like I couldn't even BREATHE without his permission."

  He cuts his wrist and watches the veins seal.

  "But he can't kill me. He CAN'T. I'll just heal. Over and over. Forever. He'd have to destroy me completely and he CAN'T because I'll just keep COMING BACK."

  He's laughing. It doesn't sound right.

  "I could fight him again. Right now. I could go BACK and he wouldn't be able to DO anything. He'd hit me and I'd heal. He'd burn me and I'd heal. He'd tear me apart and I'd HEAL."

  His voice is getting higher.

  "He called me KURORO. The king who disobeyed God. He thought that was an INSULT. But what's a god to someone who can't die? What's a GOD to someone who just keeps getting back up?"

  He stops cutting, standing there drenched in his own blood. Body pristine.

  "I'm going to burn everything. Every shifter. Every enemy. Anyone who ever looked at me like I was LESS than them."

  He starts walking.

  "And when there's no one left, I'm going to find Era. And I'm going to show him what happens when you try to throw something away that refuses to stay gone."

  His eyes are wrong now. Too bright. Too focused.

  "He should have killed me when he had the chance."

  He grips Raizen tighter.

  "Now he never will."

  Niche stumbles out of the shrine. The sun hurts his eyes.

  When did it get so bright?

  Every sound is too loud. Every person who passes feels like a threat.

  A shifter appears at the corner.

  One of the subordinates. Doing what they were told. Like dogs.

  By their king. By me.

  It approaches him cautiously.

  "Sun bearer, you need to come with—"

  Niche's eternal flames surge outward. They engulf the shifter before he can finish his sentence.

  The shifter screams.

  "You think you can command me?" Niche watches him burn. "Your kind thinks it can tell me what to do?"

  His flames burn hotter. The careful control he learned is gone.

  "That's your punishment. For even thinking you had the right."

  The shifter is still screaming. Still burning. The eternal flames won't stop until there's nothing left.

  “I’m done lying and pandering to worthless creatures,” Niche says. “So I'll be honest. I won't hold back what I think of your kind.” He watches the flames eat through the shifter's body. “You're so weak. All of you. If you can't even survive this, why should you get to live?”

  The shifter stops screaming.

  "I don't hate you," Niche continues, even though there's no one left to hear. "I just don't see the point of you."

  He stares at the pile of dust.

  "Arius is stronger than you. Shima is stronger than you. And they're still going to die one day." He tilts his head. "So what chance did you ever have?"

  Niche stands in the middle of the street, alone.

  "You don't see the point in their existence since they are mortal," a voice says from ahead of him. "But who's to say your immortality will amount to anything either?"

  Niche looks up and sees a figure ahead. Not running. Not attacking. Just standing there.

  A man in a black suit, hands in pockets, watching from across the intersection. The smoke is too thick to see his face, but something about his stillness makes Niche pause.

  "You're different," Niche says.

  The man tilts his head slightly.

  Niche's eyes narrow. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles. A real smile. The first in days.

  He looks at his bandaged hand. The parasite. It didn't exist in Era's domain, but now it’s back, limiting him. Without hesitation, he tears the bandage off and stabs his knife into the parasite. He rips the entity out, even as its tentacles cling to his flesh. The pain is excruciating but also freeing.

  The excised creature disintegrates, turning into dust.

  Niche’s regeneration surges. The wound seals instantly. Power floods through him like a dam breaking.

  "Finally," Niche breathes. "Someone who might last more than a second."

  The Space Shifter Venus removes his hands from his pockets. "Shall we?"

  Niche doesn't answer. He launches forward, cratering the ground. The speed is absurd and windows shatter from the sonic boom.

  Venus raises one hand and closes his fingers. The air between them compresses, and what starts as wind becomes a condensed beam of pure force.

  It punches through Niche's chest almost instantly. Then his shoulder. His thigh. A dozen holes appear in the span of a breath.

  Niche doesn't slow down. The holes seal as fast as they form. He's grinning now, wild and free.

  Venus's eyes widen slightly. The first emotion he's shown.

  Niche swings Raizen. The blade cuts through the space where Venus was, but he's not there anymore. He's standing twenty-seven feet behind where he was a second ago, already attacking.

  This time it's different. He brings both palms together and pulls towards his chest.

  A black sphere materializes in front of his hands. Tiny, no bigger than a marble, but the pull is immediate. The street cracks. Cars slide toward it. A stop sign bends horizontal.

  Niche plants Raizen in the ground to anchor himself. "What the hell is that?"

  "Compressed space," Venus says. "Infinite density."

  The pull intensifies. Niche's skin starts to stretch toward it.

  Niche launches himself away from the micro black hole.

  It dissipates after three seconds, leaving a perfect sphere carved out of the asphalt.

  "Those take effort," Niche notes, already circling. "You can't spam them."

  Venus doesn't respond. He's already moving, creating compressed air bullets with finger snaps. Each one hits Niche like an anti-tank round.

  Niche burns brighter, moving faster. The bullets tear through him but he doesn't care. Pain is nothing now. Damage is nothing.

  He creates a massive fireball with one hand, made entirely of eternal flames, and hurls it at Venus.

  Venus brings his hands together. The fireball compresses to a needle point as it hurtles toward him, then reverses direction and rockets back to Niche.

  The compressed fire beam punches through Niche's skull. He staggers, annoyed more than hurt.

  He’s not giving me chances to use all my stored-up energy. I need bigger outputs. More. I need more.

  Niche starts forming fireballs in milliseconds and hurling them toward Venus with no skill, just pure hatred.

  Venus compresses all of the attacks into space, dissipating the energy. "Your emotions are making you sloppy."

  Niche unleashes another massive concentration of pure energy, like a radiating sun, so large it has its own gravitational pull. It starts to drag Venus toward it, but he simply cancels out the space around it, neutralizing the pull entirely.

  Then, suddenly, Niche's flames gutter to nothing.

  "And there it is," Venus says. "You burned through everything you had."

  Niche staggers, exhausted. His internal sun is dim, depleted. He forces a small flame and it comes, but weak.

  Niche collapses on the ground.

  Venus walks toward him slowly, hands in his pockets again. "You really didn't know, did you? Your power scales with your emotions. Anger, fear, desperation. They give you more to pull from." He stops a few feet away, looking down at Niche like he's examining something mildly interesting. "But emotions burn fuel faster. You've been fighting for what, five minutes? And you're already empty."

  Niche glares up at him, breathing hard.

  "A competent sun bearer could fight for days with small flames. You?" Venus crouches down to meet his eyes. "You threw everything at once like a child having a tantrum. And now look at you."

  He stands and flicks his wrist.

  The air expands and Niche is launched backwards, tumbling across the crater. Before he can recover, another blast hits him from the side. Then another. Then another.

  Venus is playing with him.

  Niche ragdolls through the air, unable to orient himself. Every time he tries to right his body, another wave of compressed space slams into him from a different angle. His ribs crack. His shoulder dislocates. His skull fractures and heals and fractures again.

  "You know," Venus says, walking casually as Niche bounces between invisible walls of force, "I can't kill you like this. But I don't need to."

  Another blast. Niche crashes into the pavement.

  “If I keep you in this state, you’ll have no energy to resist.” Venus smiles. “I’ll bring you back and give you to Jupiter. He’ll make sure you stay nice and still until we need you for the merging."

  Another blast. Niche skids across the ground, leaving a trail of blood.

  "Honestly, you're a lot weaker than I expected. This is almost disappointing."

  Niche tries to summon a flame. Nothing. His reserves are empty.

  Venus gestures once more and Niche slides across the ground, coming to rest right at Venus's feet. Face down. Head at his shoes.

  Venus looks down at him.

  "This feels familiar, doesn't it?"

  Niche's body goes cold.

  "The last time you were this weak, lying at my feet..." Venus crouches down, tilting his head. "I was holding your sister's head. Remember?"

  Niche doesn't respond. Can't respond.

  "You've lost now," Venus continues. "But don't worry. I'll make sure someone remembers you."

  He stands back up, looking toward the city.

  “That girl. Maruka, was it?”

  Niche freezes.

  “She watched your sister die. It's only fair I add her head to my collection.” He glances down at Niche. “Maybe I'll let you watch this time. Before the merging takes you.”

  Something breaks inside Niche.

  Not his body. Something deeper.

  His eyes snap open and there's something in them now. A symbol, faint, starting to form in his irises. Burning from the inside.

  Venus feels it before he sees it. The air changes. The temperature spikes.

  He doesn't step back. He warps space itself, creating a massive gap between them in an instant. Fifty feet. A hundred. The distance appears out of nothing.

  It's not enough.

  Niche's flames don't just ignite. They erupt. Energy pours out of him in waves, more than he had before, more than should be possible. His body rises off the ground, not standing but lifted by sheer force.

  The symbol in his eyes burns brighter.

  Venus creates more distance. Another hundred feet. The air between them shimmers with distorted space.

  Niche's flames stabilize. Not wild anymore. Controlled. Focused. But the output is exponentially higher than anything he's shown before.

  "You're just delaying," Niche says, his voice deeper than before. "You can't actually stop me."

  He closes the distance in an instant. Get inside Venus’ range. Doesn’t give him time to gesture.

  He swings Raizen but before it connects, Venus throws a palm strike. The space inside Niche's chest compresses and his ribs implode. Heart crushed to nothing.

  Niche doesn't even flinch.

  He headbutts Venus while his organs are still reforming inside him. The impact sends Venus stumbling back, blood dripping from his nose.

  They're both breathing hard now. But something is different. Venus is slowing down. His movements are getting sluggish. The constant space manipulation is draining him too.

  Niche feels the shift.

  Flames erupt from every pore in his body. Not just fire, but a constructed giant of pure eternal flame, fifty feet tall. The heat disintegrates everything in its range for blocks.

  Venus looks up at the towering avatar. For the first time, he looks genuinely interested.

  He brings his hands together. Space around him warps, bending reality. Light curves around his body, distorting his silhouette.

  The flame avatar throws a building-sized punch.

  It hits the distortion and slides around him, like trying to punch water. The fire disperses around Venus without touching him, splashing harmlessly against the ruined street behind.

  "Gravity Well," Venus says.

  He gestures upward. The flame giant implodes from the inside, collapsing in on itself until there's nothing left but smoke and embers.

  Niche repositions on the ground, annoyed.

  He launches himself at Venus and swings Raizen in brutal arcs. Venus manipulates the space around him, the blade sliding off an invisible barrier every time it gets close. Like the air itself is rejecting the sword.

  Venus slams both palms on Niche's chest. "Internal compression."

  Every organ in Niche's torso implodes.

  Niche laughs through the pain and ignites his entire skeleton. Fire burns from the inside out, pouring from every wound Venus just created.

  Venus releases him before the eternal flames can spread to his arms. He holds his hand out and launches Niche backwards across the crater, tumbling to the ground.

  Both are exhausted now. The street is gone. Just crater and destruction. But neither backs down.

  "Draw?" Venus asks, breathing hard.

  Niche doesn't answer. He stands slowly.

  "You're strong," Niche admits, spitting blood that evaporates to steam.

  "You're unkillable," Venus returns. He slams his hands together. "Problematic. But immortality means nothing if you're trapped forever."

  A black hole forms. Not small. Not person-sized. Larger than Niche's fireballs, a swirling void that devours the light around it. The pull is absolute, but only for Niche. Cars and debris sit untouched while Niche's feet drag through the dirt toward it.

  Niche drives Raizen into the ground but still slides toward it.

  "Infinite compression," Venus explains over the roar of collapsing space. "You'll regenerate. Be crushed. Regenerate. For eternity."

  Niche's feet leave the ground. The pull is too strong.

  This is different. This is a real threat.

  Niche does something insane.

  He stops resisting. He launches himself directly at the black hole.

  Venus' eyes widen.

  Niche isn't aiming for the hole. He's aiming past it. Using its pull to accelerate faster than he can move.

  He rockets toward the center with Raizen extended, the black hole's gravity slingshotting him forward at terminal velocity. At the last second, Niche shoots a concentrated bullet of fire toward Venus, catching him off guard and blasting him in the shoulder.

  Venus flinches. The black hole destabilizes and closes.

  Niche dashes straight at him. His blade takes Venus' arm off at the shoulder.

  Venus clutches his stump, blood pouring between his fingers. Genuinely shocked.

  He tries to raise his remaining hand for another attack. Too slow.

  Niche is already there.

  He doesn't use Raizen. Doesn't use flames.

  He grabs Venus' head with both hands and pulls apart.

  The sound is wet. Terrible. Venus' remaining eye widens as Niche tears his skull apart, brain matter splattering the cratered ground.

  As he rips Venus’ head apart, Niche ignites each piece separately, making sure nothing can regenerate, nothing can fold back from compressed space, nothing can hurt Niche in the future.

  Venus's body hits the ground.

  Niche doesn't stop.

  He drops to his knees over the body and starts pummeling. Fist after fist into what's left of Venus's head. Into his chest. Into anything that's still solid.

  The sounds change. From impact to something wetter. Softer.

  He keeps going. His fists sink deeper with every hit. Bone becomes fragments. Fragments become paste. The body stops looking like a body.

  He keeps going.

  By the time his arms slow, there's nothing left to hit. Just a crater within the crater. A dark stain on the ground that used to be the Space Shifter Venus. Smooth. Unrecognizable. Steam rises from the remains.

  Niche sits back on his heels, breathing hard, covered in what used to be a person.

  Then his breathing steadies. His wounds finish closing. The exhaustion fades as his immortal body resets.

  He looks around. A giant crater in the middle of the Old City. More shifters in the distance, watching. Waiting.

  They saw what just happened. Saw him tear apart one of their strongest.

  Niche's lips curl into something that isn't quite a smile.

  He vanishes.

  Pure speed. No strategy. No technique. Just violence.

  The first shifter doesn't even see him coming. In one second, he ceases to exist.

  The second manages to raise a barrier. Same fate as the first.

  Third and fourth try to coordinate. Their friendship means nothing when neither exist anymore.

  Fifth attempts to run. Gets maybe two feet before flames consume her from the inside out, disintegrating her instantly.

  Half a second. Five shifters. All dead.

  Niche stands in the center of the carnage, not even winded anymore. His clothes are destroyed, covered in blood, but his body is perfect. Unmarked.

  Ready for more.

  More shifters appear. Ten. Twenty. It doesn't matter. Niche moves through them without looking at their faces. One begs for mercy. Niche doesn't hear it. One tries to surrender. Niche doesn't notice.

  The street runs red.

  When the last one falls, Niche stands among the carnage, not even breathing hard.

  This is what godhood feels like. This is what Era took from me.

  Then he sees him.

  Ryuga. On the ground a few feet ahead. Chest torn open. The only body that remains intact. Still breathing because of the plus mark, but barely.

  His guard drops. Just for a second.

  A blade punches through his chest from behind.

  Niche looks down. Steel protruding from his ribs, slick with his own blood.

  What—

  Something clamps onto his ears.

  His hands fly up instinctively, grabbing at it, trying to rip it off. The material won't budge. It's fusing with his skin, merging with his skull, becoming part of him.

  He pulls harder. His fingers scrape against it but it's already too late. Already attached. Already him.

  Then the music starts.

  His hands slow. The pulling becomes weaker. The hyper state that's been driving him starts to drain, like someone opened a valve and let it all leak out.

  He's still pulling. Still trying. But the movements are sluggish now. Heavy.

  The music keeps playing. Soft. Slow. Something mournful that wraps around his chest and squeezes.

  His hands drop to his sides as he falls forward.

  The blade pulls free. It stabs into his back again. He doesn't react.

  Again. Again. Again.

  The music plays. The rage bleeds out of him with every note.

  By the time the stabbing stops, Niche is just meat and blood on concrete.

  Then regeneration. Bones knit. Flesh reforms. Niche gasps back to life.

  Above him stands Raizen in human form. Tall, elegant, holding his own blade-self.

  "Why are you stopping me? What do you want?" Niche snarls, still regenerating.

  "Stop this. Focus on your goal. Remember."

  "No. That doesn't matter anymore. It has never mattered."

  Raizen puts the sword to Niche's neck. "Nishihara Sutori. You told me, at the beginning, if you failed your goal or strayed away from its path, you would want me to kill you."

  "Then do it!"

  "Well then, only one of us will come out of this alive, old friend." The blade presses harder. "Unless you wish to hold your temper tantrum until after you do what you sought. I remember a Niche once, but he was a lot more collected than you are being right now."

  Raizen notices Ryuga and pulls the sword away from Niche’s neck.

  His voice gets soft. "What have you done with this person who was once your friend?"

  The words hit.

  Niche's eyes find Ryuga again. His best friend. Dying slowly. Eternally. Because of him.

  The rage breaks.

  He sits on his heels, kneeling beside Ryuga's charred form.

  “I'm sorry...” Niche stares at the ground beside Ryuga, unable to look directly at the limp body. “I'm so sorry...”

  Tears come. Real ones. The weight of everything crashes down at once. Roy's memories. Kuroro's transgression. Niche's failures.

  He wipes his tears, reaching out and grabbing the sword from Raizen's human form. The figure dissolves, flowing back into the blade.

  Niche’s appearance still looks wrong. Hair wild, clothes torn and bloody, eyes holding too much power. He’s more divine than human now, barely containing it.

  "Fine, then," Niche says, sheathing Raizen.

  I can fix this. I healed Arius with fire. I can do this.

  He summons flames to his hands.

  He places burning hands on Ryuga's chest. The flesh sizzles worse. Ryuga's body convulses.

  No. That's making it worse.

  He tries again. White flames this time. Gentle. Controlled. The burnt skin cracks and peels. Fresh tissue tries to grow but immediately burns again.

  Why isn't it working? The plus mark should be healing him. Why isn't—

  Then he understands.

  “No.” Niche’s voice cracks. “No no no.”

  He pours more power in. Different techniques. Hotter fire. Colder fire. Anything.

  Ryuga's eyes snap open. Screaming. The regeneration is fighting the burns in an endless cycle, healing just enough nerves for him to feel everything.

  “Work!” Niche yells. “Come on, WORK!”

  "Stop," Raizen says quietly from the blade. "You're making it worse."

  "I can fix this. I have to—"

  "The sun's fire caused this. The sun's fire can't heal it." Raizen's voice is gentle. "Sometimes power can only destroy."

  Niche's hands drop.

  “I was trying to save you,” Niche says to the corpse that won’t stop living. “All that power, all that planning, and I…”

  His hands are shaking. Not from exhaustion. From recognition.

  "I held on too tight." The words come out flat. "Just like with grandmother. Told the wrong person, tried to control the outcome, and you paid for it."

  Ryuga's body twitches, regenerating just enough to keep suffering.

  "I didn't want to lose you because then I'd have nothing. But keeping you..." Niche looks at his hands still covered in Ryuga's blood. "This is what my protection looks like."

  He pulls out a syringe from his jacket filled with clear liquid. Morphine. Enough to flood what's left of Ryuga's nervous system with something other than pain…forever.

  "I can't fix this. Can't undo it. But I can..."

  He injects it into what's left of Ryuga's neck.

  "Sleep," Niche whispers. "Don't feel. Don't think. Just exist without suffering."

  Ryuga's screaming fades to whimpers. His breathing evens out slightly. Still broken. Still dying-but-not-dying. But calmer now.

  Niche reaches for his glasses in his coat pocket and puts them on.

  "Why am I crying?" His voice is barely a whisper behind the lenses. "His job was to protect me, not to be friends."

  He wipes under the glasses, confused by his own grief.

  "So then, why am I so sad? Even though I try to be a very rational person, these feelings...I can't explain with any reasoning."

  A tear falls onto Ryuga's burnt flesh. It evaporates instantly from the heat.

  "You were just a tool. A bodyguard. The plus mark meant you had to protect me." His voice cracks. "So why does losing you hurt more than losing my father?"

  No answer from the body that won't stop burning.

  "Maybe because you chose to come back. Even without memories, you chose to help me." Niche turns away. "Or maybe I'm just selfish enough to mourn losing my only friend twice."

  Niche stands, looking at the massacre he created. The street painted red. It’s too much for him to contemplate. To understand. To process.

  His vision fractures.

  Niche’s Mind, Present

  The surgery room appears.

  Niche stands in the center of it, whole this time. No torn limbs. No missing face. Just him, covered in blood that isn't his.

  The boy is there. Same as before. What appears to be a younger version of himself sits on the examination table, legs dangling off the edge.

  But he's not crying this time.

  He's staring at Niche with something else. Something worse.

  "You came back."

  Niche doesn't respond.

  "I saw what you did." The boy's voice is small. Scared. "I saw all of it."

  "I had to."

  "No you didn't." The boy pulls his knees up to his chest, making himself smaller. "You didn't have to do any of that."

  "They were in my way."

  "Ryuga wasn't in your way."

  Silence.

  The boy won't look at him now. His eyes are fixed on the floor, on anything that isn't Niche.

  "I don't want to be you," the boy whispers. "I don't want to become this."

  Niche takes a step forward. The boy flinches.

  “Stay away from me,” the boy says through tears, voice thick with disgust.

  Niche stops.

  "You said you would save me." The boy's voice cracks. "You said I wouldn't die. You said I was your brother."

  "I remember."

  "Then why do I feel like I'm already dead?"

  Niche doesn't have an answer.

  The boy finally looks up. His eyes are wet but the tears won't fall. He's too scared to cry. Too disgusted to do anything but stare at the thing wearing his older face.

  "What happened to you?" The boy sniffles.

  Niche looks at his hands. Still covered in blood. Ryuga's blood. Venus' blood. The blood of every shifter he erased without a second thought.

  "I don't know."

  The boy shakes his head slowly. "I don't believe you."

  Niche takes another step toward him. The boy tenses.

  Bang.

  The sound echoes through the surgery room. Then another. Another. Another.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  The boy's eyes are squeezed shut, tears streaming down his face as he pulls the trigger over and over. He's screaming something but the words don't form right, just noise, just terror pouring out of him.

  Click. Click. Click.

  The gun is empty.

  The boy drops it and curls into himself, arms crossed over his knees, face buried, making himself as small as possible. Hiding. Shaking.

  Footsteps.

  The boy's head snaps up.

  Niche is still standing. Bullet holes in his chest, his stomach, his shoulder. Blood dripping onto the surgery floor. But standing. Walking toward him.

  "No—" The boy scrambles backward on the table. "No no no, stay away, STAY AWAY—"

  Niche keeps walking.

  "WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!"

  Niche stops in front of him. The boy is pressed against the wall now, nowhere else to go, shaking so hard the examination table rattles beneath him.

  Niche kneels. Eye level.

  “I'm sorry,” Niche says.

  The boy stares at him, chest heaving, tears still falling.

  "I'm sorry I let you down for the second time."

  The boy doesn't respond. Can't respond.

  "I'm sorry, Riku."

  The surgery room fades.

  Old City, Present

  Niche’s back in the real street. His red eyes dim. The bullet holes were never real, but the weight of them remains.

  "I did this," Niche admits. Not a question. A statement. "The seal broke and I became exactly what Era said I would."

  He stands over Ryuga's burning form. The same blank expression from before settles over his face like a mask. The exact same face he wore when he first saw Ryota die. Like his mind has a default setting for "friend dying" and it's just absence.

  Raizen materializes beside him in human form. "Niche. We have to go."

  No response. Just staring.

  "Niche." Raizen grabs his shoulder. "The authorities will—"

  Niche's hand snaps up, gripping Raizen's wrist. His eyes don't move from Ryuga, but his grip is iron.

  "No." His voice is perfectly flat. "I'll handle this myself."

  Raizen tries to assert control, to puppet Niche's body away from the scene. For a moment, Niche's form flickers. Two wills fighting for one body.

  Then Niche wins. Completely. Absolutely.

  "What— how is he—" Raizen's shock bleeds through. "He's overpowering me. That's not possible. I created this body, these bones, this—"

  "I said I'll handle it myself." Niche's grip tightens until Raizen's wrist would break if it were real. "Get out."

  And Raizen is pushed out. Not gently guided back to sword form. Forcibly ejected from the human shape he'd taken. The sword clatters to the ground.

  Niche picks it up, all while maintaining that same blank stare at Ryuga.

  "You're burning," he tells Ryuga's unconscious form. "I know it hurts. I'm sorry I can't fix it."

  He looks at the syringe still in his hand. Empty now.

  "This is the second time," Niche says to no one. "The second time I've watched you die. Do you remember the first? I pretended you were sleeping."

  He stands, that blank expression never changing.

  "I'm not pretending this time. I know you're dying. You'll keep dying forever because of me." A pause. "I think that's worse than sleeping."