Chapter 80: Deimos's Recovery

The air in the hideout was thick with the lingering scent of burnt metal and the acrid smell of blood. The Kurushimi brothers stood in the center of the room, their figures outlined against the dim lights. It had been hours since the battle against Ultimate Dr. Machinist, and they had only just returned to the safety of their sanctuary. Yet, there was an overwhelming silence that clung to the walls, heavier than any weapon they’d faced.

Deimos—once a towering force, a god of destruction—lay broken before them. His once fearsome and untouchable presence was now little more than a faint memory, washed away by the intense and brutal clash he had endured. His body was a patchwork of raw, exposed flesh and mechanical parts. It was hard to fathom the immense pain he must have been enduring, and it wasn’t just physical—it was the aftermath of his own existence, the weight of his past choices and his fall from grace.

The brothers stood in an uneasy circle around him, unsure of what to say or do next. The silent tension between them had a sharp edge—after all, Deimos wasn’t a friend. He was an enemy, a god of wrath who had once been their father’s foe. And yet, in the most unexpected turn of events, Deimos had saved their father, Ray, and his allies. He had fought alongside them when no one else would have, and now, he was paying the price for his own redemption.

Krishna, who had always been the most brutal and instinctive of the brothers, was the first to step forward. He knelt beside Deimos, his eyes tracing the gruesome damage. His chest tightened as he reached out, his hand hovering just above Deimos’s battered form. There was something about the sight of the once-indestructible god in such a fragile state that stirred something deep within him. He could almost feel the echoes of his own struggles—of the darkness that had once consumed him and how, perhaps, it was only through the help of others that he had found any form of peace.

Krishna’s voice, when it came, was softer than usual.

Krishna: "This... this isn't what I imagined when I thought of Deimos. The god of destruction. The force we’d have to face. He's just... he's not that anymore."

Takashi, ever the skeptic and pragmatist, stood at the doorway, his arms crossed as he observed the scene before him. He had witnessed Deimos’s wrath firsthand, and yet, here he was—broken, helpless. He couldn’t reconcile the image of a god torn apart with the reality of the situation. But there was something more in his eyes—a reluctant respect for the sacrifice Deimos had made. If only for a moment, Takashi wondered if it was time to rethink his view of the man who had once been their enemy.

Takashi: "I still don’t trust him. We’ve fought side by side, sure, but he’s not one of us. What if helping him now comes back to bite us? We’ve fought gods before, and they’ve never turned out well for us."

Temna, the most level-headed and observant of the brothers, slowly moved to Deimos’s side. His eyes remained calm, but his thoughts were deep. His fingers brushed against the cold, lifeless flesh of Deimos’s body. He could sense the man’s struggle, even now—the battle between his past and his present. Temna had seen the signs before—wounds of both flesh and spirit. Deimos wasn’t just hurt; he was tormented by the weight of everything he had done and everything he had failed to do.

Temna: "He's not the same man who fought us before. He's different now. The battle he fought wasn’t just with Machinist—it was with himself. The destruction, the chaos—it was never just his nature. He’s a broken soul, and if we leave him to die, we’ll be no better than the monsters we’ve fought against."

Martin, always the strategist, observed the entire situation with a quiet intensity. He didn’t rush to judgment, never acted on emotion alone. His eyes flicked over to his brothers before resting on Deimos. He had been the one to make the hardest decisions in their family, the one who had seen the need for mercy and ruthlessness alike.

Martin: "It’s easy to think of Deimos as a monster, but he’s not. He saved Ray and his allies when no one else would. That means something. We owe him something. If we walk away now, then we’re not the warriors our father raised us to be. We fight for justice—not just when it's convenient, but when it's hard."

There was silence. The brothers stood there, each of them digesting the weight of Martin's words. It was a bitter pill, one they were reluctant to swallow. But there was truth in them. Deimos, for all the destruction he had wrought, had fought for a cause bigger than himself. Maybe he wasn’t the monster they had believed him to be. Maybe, just maybe, he was deserving of a chance—of their help.

Krishna, the first to bend to the reality of the situation, moved to Deimos’s side. His voice was more resolute now, stronger in its conviction.

Krishna: "We’ll help him. We owe him that much. He fought beside our father and saved him—saved all of us. It's time to repay that."

Deimos’s labored breathing grew more erratic, his eyes fluttering open for just a second before they closed again, his voice barely a rasp.

Deimos: "Why... why help me?"

The Quiet Before the Storm

As the days passed, the hideout seemed to quiet, the echoes of battle slowly fading into the background. The once chaotic environment had transformed into something almost peaceful, but there was a heavy sense of anticipation in the air. Each of the Kurushimi brothers found themselves preoccupied, not with the usual preparation for war, but with the healing of a man they had once considered their enemy.

Deimos, though still deeply scarred, had been under their care for days now. His recovery was slow, agonizingly so, but there were small signs of progress. His breathing was steadier. The strength in his limbs was returning. But the true battle he faced was within himself. The brothers could sense the tension in the air, as if Deimos were waging an internal war, unable to come to terms with his new reality.

Krishna stood in the shadows of the training room, his fists clenched tightly around the handles of his training knives. He could feel the raw energy of the situation in the pit of his stomach—an uneasy stirring that refused to settle. It had been so long since he had fought alongside someone who wasn’t part of his immediate family, and the idea of fighting beside Deimos, a god of destruction, felt unnatural. He couldn't shake the fear that Deimos’s past would eventually catch up to him, that the blood he had spilled would inevitably pull him back into the abyss.

Krishna: "What if he's just pretending? What if this is all just a show, a mask to get us to lower our guard?"

The thought had lingered in Krishna’s mind ever since Deimos had first opened his eyes in their care. It would have been easy to dismiss, but Krishna knew better than to trust his instincts alone. He had seen too many people pretend to be something they weren’t, and Deimos—whatever he had become—was a dangerous force. Still, the one thing Krishna couldn’t ignore was the vulnerability that flickered in Deimos’s eyes whenever he thought no one was watching. It was there, beneath the scars and the cold demeanor, an undeniable reflection of guilt, of a man who knew the weight of his sins and perhaps even regretted them.

Meanwhile, Takashi paced around the outside of the hideout, his usual cocky demeanor now tempered by a rare introspection. He had never been one to dwell on past actions or emotions—he was the kind of person who acted first and thought later. But there was something about Deimos’s situation that rattled him. Takashi wasn’t used to seeing a being as powerful as Deimos broken. He had never seen Deimos this vulnerable—this mortal. The god had been a force, a living weapon that inspired fear in those around him. But now, Deimos’s very existence seemed to be teetering on the edge of oblivion.

Takashi: "He's not what I thought he was. But I still don't know if I can trust him."

Temna, always more reserved and thoughtful than the others, observed the two brothers from a distance. He had always kept his distance from Deimos, watching him with a cautious eye. But there was something about this moment that stirred him—something that made him realize how little they truly knew about the man they had once called their enemy. Deimos wasn’t a mindless monster. He was a tortured soul, weighed down by the atrocities of his past, just like any of them. And perhaps that was the most dangerous part of it—the fact that they could no longer see him as the enemy. They could no longer see him as a monster.

Temna: "We’re all just a reflection of our past. Deimos... he's no different from any of us. He’s a survivor, and survival comes at a cost. The question is whether he can keep surviving without falling back into the darkness."

Martin stood alone in the war room, staring at the map that stretched across the table before him. His mind was elsewhere, his thoughts focused on the bigger picture. The battle with Ultimate Dr. Machinist had been just one step in an ongoing war. But now, they were faced with an uncertain future. Deimos’s survival meant more than just another ally in their fight—it meant that they had to confront their own ideologies, their own beliefs about what it meant to be a warrior.

Martin: "We’ve walked this path before—fighting for justice, fighting for survival. But now, we’re asked to question everything we believe in. Can we accept a man like Deimos into our fold? Can we afford not to?"

Ray had been quiet since Deimos’s return, his stoic expression betraying nothing of the internal conflict that simmered within him. He had known Deimos longer than anyone else here, and the memories of their past encounters were a constant weight on his shoulders. But Ray had learned, over the years, that mercy could sometimes be more powerful than vengeance. Perhaps, just perhaps, Deimos was one of the few who deserved that mercy.

And that, more than anything, was what haunted Ray—the idea that in saving Deimos, they might be sealing their own fate.

But when Deimos finally rose from his bed, his body weak but his eyes burning with something fiercer than before, the tension in the room reached its peak.

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Deimos: "I owe you all more than I can repay. But I have to ask—do you truly trust me now? Or is this just a temporary alliance?"

The question hung in the air, thick with expectation. The brothers exchanged uneasy glances, but they didn’t speak at first. They could sense the weight of the moment. There was a fragile trust building between them, something that hadn’t existed before. But trust—true trust—was earned, not given freely.

Krishna’s eyes softened as he met Deimos’s gaze.

Krishna: "We don’t trust you completely... but we’re giving you a chance. A chance to prove that you’ve changed. Prove it, Deimos. And we’ll be by your side."

Deimos nodded silently, his lips curving into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. There was still darkness in his heart, still shadows that loomed over him. But for the first time in years, he felt the faintest glimmer of hope.

Deimos: "Then let’s see if I can earn that trust. We’ve only just begun."

With those words, the Kurushimi brothers knew that they were about to face something far greater than they could have ever anticipated—a future where redemption and destruction might coexist, where the lines between right and wrong blurred in the face of war. The next chapter of their journey had begun, and nothing would ever be the same again.

The Key to the Future

The air was thick with the weight of realization. Deimos’s words hung in the air like a storm cloud, ready to break. The brothers stood still, unable to speak at first, as the magnitude of Deimos’s statement settled over them. The gravity of his words—“I was the key to defeating Akuma 65 years ago. And now... it’s time for it again.”—echoed through the hideout, unsettling and powerful all at once.

Krishna was the first to break the silence, his voice low but filled with disbelief.

Krishna: “What do you mean by that? You were the key? How? Akuma... our father Ray and his allies took him down. They defeated him together. What could you have possibly done that they couldn’t?”

Deimos looked at Krishna, his expression unreadable. There was no arrogance in his gaze, no smugness. Just the heavy burden of truth.

Deimos: “It wasn’t about strength. It was never about strength. Akuma was a force of nature, a being who thrived on chaos and destruction. But what he truly feared—the thing that could stop him—was the power of someone who understood that chaos better than anyone.”

He paused, letting his words sink in.

Deimos: “I wasn’t just a weapon, Krishna. I was the counterbalance. Akuma’s power fed off the chaos in people’s hearts. But I... I understood that chaos from the inside. I was his equal, his opposite. I could see the fractures in his mind, the points where his own hatred and rage would consume him.”

The brothers exchanged uneasy glances. They had always known Deimos as a being of incredible power, a god of destruction, but they had never understood him in this way. They had never seen him as a counterbalance to Akuma, a being so entwined with chaos that he could threaten the god himself.

Takashi: “So you’re saying you were the one who could have killed Akuma? That you were the one who truly held the key?”

Deimos nodded slowly, his expression darkening.

Deimos: “It wasn’t just about physical power. It was about understanding Akuma’s mind, his fears, his desires. We were alike in many ways—both born from suffering, both shaped by the darkness we’ve known. But that made me the only one capable of defeating him. That’s why Ray and his allies couldn’t finish him. They fought with force, but they didn’t understand the war inside Akuma’s heart. I did.”

Temna, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his voice laced with both curiosity and caution.

Temna: “And now? Why is it time again? Akuma’s gone, and yet you say that the key is still needed. What does that mean for us?”

Deimos’s eyes narrowed as he looked around at the Kurushimi brothers. His gaze was steady, but there was a new depth to it, a realization that they would need to understand what was at stake if they were to move forward.

Deimos: “Akuma may be gone, but the chaos he left behind is still very much alive. There are forces at play, darker and more insidious than anything you’ve faced before. And just like Akuma, they thrive on that chaos, that instability. There’s a new power rising, a power that could eclipse even Akuma’s reign of terror.”

Krishna’s fists clenched at his sides, a familiar fire igniting in his chest. His desire for justice, for vengeance, burned brighter than ever.

Krishna: “So what? You’re telling us we have to stop another monster? Another force of destruction like Akuma?”

Deimos looked at him, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile, though it was clear that this was not a moment for levity.

Deimos: “Yes. But it’s not just another monster. This time, it’s different. And you will need me to help you understand what you’re truly up against. It’s time for you to face what’s coming, together.”

A silence fell over the room as the weight of Deimos’s words settled on everyone. For a moment, the brothers stood in quiet contemplation. The Kurushimi family—once torn apart by violence, betrayal, and bloodshed—was now faced with something far more terrifying than they had ever imagined. The shadow of Akuma had been lifted, but a new darkness loomed, one that would test them all in ways they could not yet fathom.

Finally, Ray, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. His gaze was steady, unwavering. The father, the leader, the man who had seen more than his fair share of war, now understood the burden that his sons, and Deimos, would have to carry.

Ray: “Then we’ll face it together. Whatever comes, we fight as one. Deimos, you were once a force of chaos, but now you are part of this family. We will trust you, as we trust each other. No more divisions. This ends now.”

Deimos nodded, the fire in his eyes returning, though now tempered with something more—something akin to resolve.

Deimos: “Then let’s get to work. This time, we end it all.”

As the Kurushimi brothers and Deimos prepared for the battles ahead, they understood that this fight would not just be about physical strength. It would be about confronting the very darkness that had shaped them all—about standing together against a threat far greater than anything they had ever faced before. The key had been unlocked, and the future, for better or worse, would now be determined by their actions.

And the storm was coming.

The question echoed through the room, a faint cry of desperation, of confusion. Why would anyone help the monster who had done so much destruction? But the brothers, standing around him, understood the answer all too well.

Martin: "Because we’ve all been monsters at one point. We’re all fighting something. And because you’ve proven that even gods can change."

The brothers exchanged a look before they began the long, arduous task of healing Deimos. They were no strangers to pain, but this was different. They weren’t just healing a body—they were healing a soul, a broken god. The road ahead would not be easy. The scars of Deimos’s past, both physical and emotional, would take time to mend. But for the first time in a long time, there was hope—hope for redemption, for recovery, for something greater than destruction.

As Deimos drifted in and out of consciousness, the brothers knew that the war they fought was far from over. But this was a new beginning—for Deimos, for them, and perhaps even for the world that had once feared them all.

The Gift of Healing

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with tension, yet there was a quiet resolve in the air, a shared understanding that the coming battle would demand everything they had. Deimos had already shown his capacity for destruction, but in that moment, something different stirred within him. As he looked at the Kurushimi brothers—Krishna, Temna, Takashi—the weight of his past and their futures intertwined.

The fight with Dr. Machinist had taken its toll on all of them. The injuries they’d sustained were not just physical; they carried the bruises of battles fought both in the mind and spirit. Deimos could see the weariness in their eyes, the faint tremor in their stances. Even the Kurushimi brothers, who had been hardened by years of combat and bloodshed, were feeling the strain of what lay ahead.

Deimos, for all his dark power and destructive prowess, had also been shaped by pain and sacrifice. He knew what it was to carry the weight of countless battles. But what they needed now wasn’t just a weapon or a strategist; they needed hope, and they needed healing.

With a deep breath, Deimos closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing inward. His aura began to hum, an unnatural power radiating from him, settling over his body like a storm waiting to be unleashed. The Kurushimi brothers could feel it—a pulsing energy that made the air around them crackle with intensity. It was both a burden and a gift. They had seen the destruction Deimos was capable of; now, they would witness the flip side of that same power.

Deimos stepped forward, his presence now dominating the room in a way that was almost serene. His body glowed faintly with an ethereal light, not unlike a divine being preparing for something significant.

Deimos: “You’ve all fought valiantly, but you’ve taken damage. No one fights alone in this war. We may be warriors, but we’re also family. And it’s time I give you something that I have long kept to myself.”

The brothers exchanged confused looks, unsure of what Deimos was about to do.

With a simple gesture, Deimos raised his hand, palm open toward them. His voice dropped to a whisper, though it carried the weight of authority.

Deimos: “I bless you all with my enhanced regeneration. What was once mine to endure... is now yours to share. You will heal, as I have healed. Your wounds will close, your strength will return. And this battle, this war, will not be fought on broken bodies.”

The moment the words left his lips, the power emanating from Deimos flooded the room, swirling around the Kurushimi brothers. It was a sensation unlike anything they had ever felt before. Their wounds, both old and new, began to burn, not in pain but in the warmth of healing. Muscles that had been strained, bones that had been broken, cuts and bruises that had become familiar old friends—all of it began to knit back together. The process was rapid, almost overwhelming in its speed, and it was as though the very fabric of their physical being was being rewoven by an unseen hand.

Krishna’s eyes widened as he flexed his hands, feeling the fresh strength coursing through his body. The ache in his muscles, the sharpness of the cuts from his recent battles, faded into nothingness. He felt... whole again.

Krishna: “This is... incredible. I’ve never felt anything like this before.”

Temna, usually more reserved, allowed himself a rare smile as he stretched his arms, feeling the tension slip away. His limbs, once stiff with exhaustion, now moved with a newfound fluidity. His body, always a well-oiled machine in combat, was back to peak form.

Temna: “You’ve... given us the gift of time. And life, it seems.”

Takashi stood tall, his usual cocky grin returning as he tested his legs. The familiar burn of overuse, the fatigue that had weighed him down, was now gone. He could feel the power surging through him, and it was like a rebirth. It was the power to fight on, to push through the limits that had once seemed insurmountable.

Takashi: “This... this is more than healing. It’s like you’ve given us a second chance.”

Deimos watched them silently, his eyes filled with an unreadable emotion. The gift he had just given them wasn’t just the restoration of their bodies—it was a gift of unity, of strength in numbers. They would need each other in the coming battle more than ever, and now they were all ready.

Deimos: “This is my gift to you, brothers. But remember—this power is not infinite. It is a blessing, not a crutch. You will be tested in ways you can’t even begin to understand. But know this—together, we will stand. And together, we will bring an end to the chaos that threatens this world.”

Krishna’s eyes locked onto Deimos’s, and for a moment, the weight of their shared history, of all the battles they had fought and all the losses they had endured, seemed to come crashing down. But in that moment, a fire ignited deep within him. He was no longer just the vengeful warrior; he was part of something greater, something that transcended the bloodshed and the hate. They were a family, and that meant they would fight for each other.

Krishna: “We’re ready. Let’s end this. Together.”

Deimos nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. There was a long road ahead, filled with unimaginable challenges, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was a sense of purpose—a sense of unity.

The battle wasn’t over. In fact, it had only just begun. But now, they would face it with the strength of Deimos’s gift, and the unwavering resolve of a family bound together by blood, sacrifice, and the shared goal of ending the darkness that threatened to consume everything.

The storm was coming, and they would be ready.

End of Chapter 80