The battlefield was a grim tableau of carnage and chaos, stretching as far as the eye could see under the eclipsed sky. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning flesh, and countless antizoi lay strewn across the plane, their bodies broken and ablaze. Smoldering embers illuminated the blackened ground, casting a flickering light over the devastation. The sound of distant cries retreated beasts and the occasional crackle of fire filled the once stagnant air.

Amid the scene stood Mark. He now wore a suit of makeshift armor, crudely fashioned from the bones of his first victim. The Gashadokuro’s bones, thick and unnaturally durable, had been repurposed to form a jagged cuirass and greaves. Most striking was the helmet: shaped like an enormous horse’s skull.

In one hand, he gripped his cane. The wooden cane radiated a faint pneumatic glow, beneath it, pinned to the scorched earth, was the Ircenrraat writing under its weight. It squirmed desperately, its spindly limbs flailing as the pneuma from the cane seeped into its form, keeping it trapped.

Mark, however, appeared unfazed by the creature’s struggles. He stood with indifference, one foot resting on its back, leaning lazily on the cane as if he were lounging in a park. In his ears were a pair of earbuds, and the faint, bass-heavy thrum of an EDM remix of Edge of Seventeen emanated from them. His head bobbed slightly to the rhythm.

Several paces ahead of him stood another figure. The man was impossibly tall, his broad shoulders and massive frame dwarfing even the other towering antizoi scattered across the field. His skin was jet-black, its surface smooth yet marked by glowing rectangular patterns that pulsed faintly, almost like circuitry. The patterns crisscrossed his body in perfect symmetry, accentuating his immense musculature. He wore loose, toga-like garments that draped over his form.

The man’s expression was intense with an unblinking gaze locked on Mark. The ash and smoke swirling around the area did not dare to approach his area. His lips moved, and his deep, resonant voice cut through the distant din of the battlefield—but whatever he said, it was lost on Mark, drowned out by the pounding beats in his ears.

Mark tilted his head, his brows raising slightly. Then, with an exaggerated motion, he reached up and plucked one of the earbuds out of his ear. The music spilled faintly into the air before it automatically paused itself.

“Sorry, reverse Goliath, I couldn’t hear you,” he said with a casual tone, the corners of his mouth forming a faint smirk, obscured by the helmet.

“Release the Ircenrraat.”

Mark blinked, tilting his head as if in mock confusion. “The what?” he asked, leaning further onto his cane. The motion caused the red glow at its base to intensify, drawing a pained, high-pitched screech from the creature pinned beneath it. Mark glanced down at the squirming figure, then back up at the tall man. “Oh, this thing?” He gave the cane a slight twist, eliciting another shriek from the Ircenrraat.

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “See, here’s the thing…” He gestured vaguely to the burning plane around them. “It doesn’t look like you’re in much of a position to give orders.” He tapped the side of his helmet with one finger. “Big scary guy like you shows up, I assume a Djinn, all serious and brooding, but you’re just another antizoi. I might not be as proficient in killing you like my friend is, but we all know how this ends.”

The man took a slow step forward, the ground beneath his massive foot cracking slightly under his weight. He loomed over Mark, his shadow enveloping the smaller man entirely.

“You misunderstand,” the djinn said. “This is not a request.”

Mark’s smile widened, and he straightened up, finally lifting his foot from the Ircenrraat’s back. The creature scrambled frantically, its clawed hands clawing at the ground as it tried to escape, but the red glow from the cane intensified again, holding it firmly in place.

“Not a request, huh?” Mark said, rolling his shoulders. “Well, I don’t take kindly to demands either.”

The djinn’s eyes glowed brighter for a moment, the rectangular patterns across his skin pulsing in response. “Do you understand what you’re dealing with?” he asked.

Mark tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “Hmm. Big guy, toga, glowing skin… The boss fight?” He twirled the cane in his hand, the red glow swirling around its length like liquid flame. “I assume your human counterpart is busy with my friend. Smart move to make the exorcist fight the human and the non-exorcist fight the djinn. Regardless, I’ve got bad news for you, we don’t lose.”

Before the man could respond, Mark flashed forward, swinging the cane in a wide arc aimed at his opponent’s torso. The red glow erupted from the weapon creating great blue flames.

The djinn moved fast for his size; his hand shot out, catching the cane mid-swing.

The impact sent a jolt of energy coursing through the battlefield, but the djinn remained unphased.

“Nice catch… I don’t think I caught your name,” Mark said, using the djinn’s hold on the cane as leverage to strike a forward flip driven kick to his head, forcing a bow.

“Cute trick.” the man said, on his knees.

He launched a swift punch to Mark's abdomen.

The punch shattered the bone plate, while also sending him launching a few feet back.

“Aderfós. Brother of the White One.”

“Quite the title,” Mark said, as the broken bones began to reform around the punched hole.“Alright, Aderfós” he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the cane. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The two men lunged at each other and the djinn stuck with a powerful backhand, his massive arm sweeping through the air with enough force to send Mark flying.

Mark twisted mid-air, landing in a crouch several feet away. His helmet clattered slightly as he regained his footing, but he did not let the blow faze him.

“You’re not bad,” he admitted, brushing some ash off his shoulder. “But as you can tell from my broken body, I’ve fought scarier.”

The battlefield shifted with every clash, the once-flat plane splintering into jagged platforms that rose and fell with each pulse of pneuma.

Mark planted his cane firmly into the ground, his body low as he dodged a sweeping kick from Aderfós that cleaved through the air like a blade.

He surged forward, pivoting off his cane to close the distance, swinging it in a tight arc toward Aderfós’ side.

The djinn blocked the strike with his forearm, the impact ringing out like a hammer on steel.

Aderfós retaliated with a crushing downward punch, forcing Mark to conjure a flaming shield in his free hand. The blow connected with a fiery explosion, the shield holding just long enough for Mark to twist to safety.

“You’re slow for someone with that much power,” Mark said, his voice sharp, almost teasing, as he rolled his shoulder and reset his stance.

Aderfós did not respond. Instead, he charged.

His fist crashed toward Mark like a meteor.

Mark planted his cane again, using it as leverage to vault himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the blow.

The ground where Aderfós struck exploded into shards, sending fragments of the battlefield spiraling into the air.

Mark landed with precision on a nearby platform that had risen from the fractured plane.

He conjured a flaming short sword in his left hand, hurling it at Aderfós with a flick of his wrist.

The djinn swatted it aside, but the projectile detonated on impact, obscuring his vision in a burst of fire and smoke.

Mark seized the opening.

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He closed the distance with a low dash, his cane striking out like a spear toward Aderfós’ torso.

The djinn stepped into the attack, deflecting it with his arm and countering with a thunderous backhand.

Mark ducked under the strike, shifting his weight onto his cane to sweep Aderfós’ legs with a low kick.

The djinn stumbled but recovered quickly, slamming his foot into the ground to steady himself.

The impact sent a tremor through the battlefield, forcing Mark to leap away as the very ground beneath him crumbled into an abyss.

“You’re strong,” Mark said, a wry smile hidden beneath his helmet as he balanced precariously on the edge of the void.

Aderfós leapt after him, his massive form sailing through the air with surprising grace.

His fists crashed down in a double hammer strike, but Mark conjured another shield to absorb the impact.

The force drove him to one knee, his cane digging into the ground to keep him upright.

Mark twisted sharply, using the cane as a pivot to launch a spinning elbow into Aderfós’ ribs.

The blow connected, forcing the djinn to stagger back, his glowing patterns flickering momentarily.

From the shadows, the Ircenrraat shrieked, summoning reinforcements to join the fray.

Figures emerged from the ash blanketed ground—spectral beasts with glowing eyes and twisted limbs, their forms barely holding together as they charged forward. A skeletal bird with wings of shadow dove at Mark, its beak snapping like a guillotine. He batted it away with a fiery slash from a conjured blade from his cane, the creature dissipating into embers.

Aderfós took advantage of the distraction, closing the gap with a shoulder charge that sent Mark skidding across the ground.

Mark rolled with the impact, coming to a stop on one knee, his cane planted firmly for support.

The djinn was relentless.

He lunged again, his massive fists swinging in a barrage of brutal strikes.

Mark deflected the blows with a shield, each impact sending ripples of fire cascading outward.

He countered with a quick jab from his cane, followed by a roundhouse kick that connected with Aderfós’ thigh, staggering the djinn momentarily.

“Even in your weakened state you pack a punch. This should be fun,” Aderfós said, his voice like a grinding stone.

The djinn slammed his fists into the ground, sending a shockwave that fractured the battlefield further. But this was only a small annoyance as the battlefield seemingly shifted and rose, creating an ever-changing arena.

What the hell is going on in this kingdom?

Mark leapt from one platform to the next, the land seemingly forming massive limbs.

He conjured a chain of flame, swinging it like a whip to keep the djinn at bay.

Aderfós caught the chain, yanking it to pull Mark off balance.

Mark used the momentum to launch himself forward, landing a knee to Aderfós’ chest.

The djinn grunted, his frame barely moving from the impact, but Mark followed up with a rapid combination of strikes—elbows, knees, and fits — each creating a great boom upon contact.

Mark shifted his view to lower in the rising mountain range. Various lesser antizoi were crawling up the mass.

One made great distance in an instance, flashing behind Mark: a headless warrior wielding a massive axe swinging at his side.

Mark sidestepped the attack, spinning his cane to parry the next strike before driving its tip into the warrior’s chest.

The red pneuma pulsing from the cane burned through the creature, reducing it to ash.

Aderfós capitalized on the distraction, appearing behind Mark with a spatial shift.

He delivered a powerful kick to Mark’s back, sending him sprawling across the range.

Mark groaned, pulling himself up slowly, his armor cracked but reforming as flames licked across the damaged plates.

“You don’t let up, do you? Ten years ago it would have been over by now,” Mark said.

He conjured a flaming spear, hurling it at Aderfós. The djinn dodged, but the spear exploded mid-air, the blast forcing him to shield his face.

Mark jumped towards the djinn with a low sweep kick, catching Aderfós off guard and sending him to one knee.

He pivoted on his cane, delivering a spinning axe kick to the djinn’s shoulder.

The impact drove Aderfós into the ground, but he retaliated with an upward punch that sent Mark flying once more.

The battlefield shifted again. Platforms began to rise and fall erratically, the very fabric of the plane warping as a massive form began to emerge from the ground. The creature was gargantuan, its body seemingly composed of the battlefield itself. It towered over both combatants like a great mountain.

Mark and Aderfós found themselves leaping from platform to platform as the creature’s massive limbs swept through the air, each strike reshaping the landscape. Mark conjured a flaming mace, slamming it into a decayed antizoi’s limbs as it attempted an attack on him.

“So annoying!”

The Ircenrraat shrieked again, its hands weaving through the air as it attempted to summon something even larger. Mark caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. He lunged, pinning the Ircenrraat to the ground with his cane.

“Not so fast, little guy,” Mark said, his tone cold as the red pneuma surged from his cane, locking the creature in place.

Aderfós’ eyes widened as he saw the Ircenrraat struggling. “No!” he shouted, teleporting to intercept.

Mark turned just in time to catch the djinn’s fist with his flaming shield. The force of the blow sent him skidding backward, but he held his ground.

“You seem very attached to this little guy,” Mark said, his voice mocking as he conjured flaming chains to bind the Ircenrraat.

The creature screeched in protest as the chains wrapped around its body, the flames searing into its flesh. Mark slung the bound creature onto his back like a backpack.

Aderfós’ expression twisted with rage. “Release the kid!”

Mark smirked beneath his helmet. “How about we strike up a deal.”

----------------------------------------

Within the dark forest that was Ooshiba’s spiritual liberation, the two antizoi lifeless at his feet.

His breathing was steady, his eyes fixed on the woman before him.

Around her, smoky yurei clawed at her form, their ghostly attacks dissipating before they could even make contact.

The chain of smoke that looped around Ooshiba’s neck no longer was taut with the sky. He stepped into the fray without hesitation, his fist glowing faintly with a sharp pneumatic aura.

Their fight began in silence.

Ooshiba threw a swift punch.

The pneumatic glow on his fist sharpened as it neared her, slicing through the intangible defenses and striking her shoulder.

She staggered slightly but retaliated immediately, her scythe slicing through the air.

Ooshiba ducked low, the blade passing inches from his head. He countered with a kick to the ankles. She leapt back, avoiding the strike with ease, and followed up with a downward slash.

The blade struck Ooshiba’s side, carving a deep wound, but he did not falter. Instead, the smoky pneuma around him surged, knitting the gash back together in a matter of seconds. The healing left faint traces of mist in the air, the forest itself absorbing the pain.

Despite the temporary healing, her attacks were relentless.

Every swing of her scythe forced Ooshiba on the defensive, dodging or deflecting as best as he could.

When her strikes landed, they hit with a bone-shaking force that far outweighed his own. Still, Ooshiba pressed on, his body enduring and healing as quickly as she could inflict damage, their blows following an iambic rhythm..

As they continued their clash, she spun with deadly speed, her scythe arcing toward Ooshiba’s chest. He brought up his arm to block, forming a shallow smoky shield, but the force of her strike sent him skidding backward.

Ooshiba planted his feet firmly, the smoke around him swirling.

He flexed his fingers, his fists igniting with sharp pneuma again.

They moved in tandem, their bodies weaving through the chaos.

Ooshiba drove forward with a series of punches, each one crackling with pneumatic force. She deflected his strikes with the haft of her scythe, twisting her body to deliver a sweeping kick that caught Ooshiba’s ribs. He doubled over but quickly recovered, his wounds sealing shut in a haze of smoke.

Before he could get up, she raised her scythe overhead and brought it down with unobservable speed, but before the blade slashed, a streak of flame exploded through the forest.

Mark appeared.

The bound Ircenrraat was still strapped to his back, its fiery chains glowing faintly. Mark flashed in front of Ooshiba, his flaming cane intercepting the scythe mere inches from Ooshiba’s head. Sparks flew as the weapons collided, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the air.

Mark smirked beneath his jagged helmet, his voice carrying a casual tone. “Seriously, you needed to use your kingdom on this guy.”

“I have the pneumatic flu…” Ooshiba responded by pulling himself up. He took notice of the djinn who now appeared behind the woman.

“Well, you hide it well…”

Mark pushed the woman back with a powerful shove.

Ooshiba straightened. “Took you longer than I expected to get here,” he said, his tone flat.

Mark glanced back, the Ircenrraat on his back screeching faintly. “Little dude refused to comply”

Ooshiba nodded, the smoke around him coiling tighter as he continued to stare down the djinn. “Does he hit hard?”

Mark chuckled, rolling his shoulders. “Nothing you can’t handle. Want to switch dudes?”

“Desperately.”

Mark smiled. “Sweet.”