As Eleo and Taki locked eyes, the tension between them thickened, like the oppressive weight of a storm about to break. Neither moved, both calculating, both waiting for the smallest sign of weakness. It was Eleo who noticed the subtle shift first, a flicker in Taki’s eyes that came a split second before his next move.

“Let’s finish this,” Taki said, his voice cold and sharp, like the air itself was under his command.

With a single motion, Taki summoned his Wind Blades—condensed gusts of air that shimmered like transparent knives. They hurtled toward Eleo, tearing through the space between them with terrifying speed.

Eleo dodged the first volley, his body moving with a practiced fluidity. His feet barely touched the ground as he weaved through the onslaught, but the blades kept coming, faster and more precise with each strike. One nicked his side, and before he could regain his balance, another cut deep into his left arm. Pain flared up his body as a third blade severed his leg. A final slash tore across his torso, sending blood spraying across the bridge.

Kenji and Tony, standing at a distance, felt their stomachs drop.

“Eleo!” Kenji’s voice cracked as he shouted, panic rising in his chest. He took a step forward, but Tony held him back.

“No, wait—he can’t…” Tony began, but his words died in his throat. The sight of Eleo, crumpled and broken, was too much. He turned away for a moment, breathing heavily.

Taki, meanwhile, stood over Eleo’s fallen form, his face twisted with disdain. “Pathetic,” he sneered. “I thought you’d be a challenge, but you’re just another weakling. All this talk about not underestimate me,and for what?” He scoffed, turning his back to Tony and kenji. “Guess I overestimated you.”

But then, a sound cut through the silence—a soft, low chuckle.

Taki froze, his sneer faltering. Slowly, he turned back to where Eleo lay, only to see him... laughing.

Eleo’s body, bloodied and torn apart, was slowly reforming. Inky tendrils slithered over his wounds, knitting flesh and bone back together. His severed limbs reattached themselves with a grotesque fluidity, and within moments, Eleo was standing once more, whole and grinning.

Kenji and Tony stood dumbfounded, watching in disbelief.

“I-Is he healing?” Tony whispered, his voice shaky. “He’s actually putting himself back together?”

Kenji shook his head in amazement. “No way... That’s impossible.”

Taki, meanwhile, gripped his Wind Blades tighter, his confidence shaken. “What the hell is this?” he muttered. “No one heals like that.”

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Eleo wiped a smear of blood from his lip, his smirk still in place. “Surprised? That’s the thing about ink—it’s versatile. You can tear me apart, but I’ll just put myself back together.”

Taki’s eyes narrowed, his temper flaring. “You think this is some kind of joke?”

Eleo’s grin faded into something more serious. “No joke. But it’s not without a cost.”

Taki’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Eleo exhaled slowly, his gaze darkening. “Every time I heal like this, I lose something. My ink isn’t infinite. It drains my lifespan. Every wound I fix takes years off my life. Decades, sometimes.”

Kenji and Tony exchanged worried glances.

“If that’s true,” Taki said, voice wavering between anger and confusion, “why use it? Why throw your life away for a fight you can’t win?”

Eleo’s expression hardened. “Because this isn’t about winning. It’s about what’s worth fighting for. Sometimes you have to sacrifice something to make a point. And today, that point is you, Taki.” He flexed his newly restored arm, the ink still glistening as it solidified. “This’ll probably be the last time I use it. But make no mistake, that doesn’t mean I’m out of the fight. It means you’re running out of time.”

Taki’s hands trembled, his calm demeanor cracking. “You’re bluffing. I just cut you to pieces, and you’re talking like you have the upper hand?”

Eleo’s grin returned, sharp as ever. “And yet, here I am. Still standing.”

The tension between them was almost unbearable now, the air charged with raw energy. Taki, who had started the fight with confidence, now found himself staring down an opponent who refused to die—an opponent who seemed willing to throw everything, including his life, into the ring.

From the sidelines, Kenji shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s putting everything on the line… I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

Tony, eyes fixed on the fight, nodded slowly. “He’ll pull through. He has to.”

Eleo cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders as if limbering up for the next round. “So, you ready to stop messing around?”

Taki’s expression darkened, and without a word, he raised his hand. A whirlwind erupted around him, the force so intense that it whipped the sand from the ground and sent debris flying in all directions.

But Eleo wasn’t fazed. He darted forward, slipping between the gusts of wind like a shadow, his body moving faster than Taki could anticipate. Before Taki could react, Eleo was in front of him, and with a powerful uppercut, he sent Taki flying backward.

Eleo didn’t let up. He followed through with a barrage of ink-fueled punches, each one landing with bone-cracking force. Taki staggered, trying to regain his footing, but Eleo was relentless. A sharp slap to the face sent Taki reeling, and a savage kick to his ribs knocked the wind from his lungs.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Eleo taunted as he lashed out with an ink whip, wrapping it around Taki’s leg. With a grunt of effort, Eleo swung Taki through the air, slamming him into the ground with a resounding crash.

From the sidelines, Olorun, now fully awake, watched in stunned silence. “Is… is this real?” he muttered, rubbing his head in disbelief. “I had this dream… I was fighting with this blue-haired guy… and now…”

Kenji, eyes wide, whispered, “That wasn’t a dream.”

Tony chuckled nervously, watching as Eleo swung Taki around like a ragdoll. “Taki’s having the worst day of his life.”

Olorun blinked. “Oh my god, this is both hilarious and… kinda weird. He’s getting wrecked by a kid.”

With a final swing, Eleo slammed Taki into the sand below the bridge. Dust and debris flew everywhere as Taki’s body crumpled into the dirt, motionless.

Eleo jumped down, landing gracefully beside him. He approached, his expression unreadable, but there was a glint of triumph in his eyes. Taki, bruised and bloodied, struggled to his knees, gasping for breath.

“God… please…” Taki muttered, his voice hoarse, broken. His hands trembled as he raised them to the sky. “God… give me strength… I beg of you…”

Suddenly, a beam of holy light descended from the pocket dimension and from the heavens, enveloping Taki in a radiant glow. His body lifted into the air, the divine energy coursing through him like fire. His hair turned white, his eyes glowing with an intense, blinding light. As the transformation completed, Taki descended, standing with a calm, eerie stillness.

Kenji and Tony stared in disbelief.

“What’s happening to him?” Kenji asked, his voice filled with alarm.

Olorun sighed, looking uncomfortably at the scene. “Oh… right, I forgot to mention. Taki’s got this ability called ‘Holy Ascension.’ It’s… well, it’s a big deal. Basically turns him into an angelic powerhouse.”

Tony threw his hands up. “And you didn’t think to mention that earlier?”

Olorun shrugged. “Didn’t think it’d come to this.”

On the battlefield, Taki stood completely transformed, his aura radiant with divine light. His expression was serene—emotionless, even. Eleo took a step back, a feeling of unease settling into his chest. He could feel it in the air—the battle had just entered a new, far more dangerous phase.