Worse than the injuries Kirinji suffered—
In an instant, the devastating wound rendered Ōetsu Nimaiya helpless. He barely managed to deflect Seiya's follow-up strike before turning away, falling to one knee.
"Gah…"
Even with one hand pressed hard against the torn flesh, it couldn't stem the blood.
The skin and nerves pulled apart. The feedback from his body screamed danger.
It felt like a hot, wet towel had been wrapped around his throat.
His vision blurred. His mind dulled. Ōetsu gasped, his eyes hazy, as he tried to process what had just happened.
Even prepared mentally… this outcome was beyond anything expected.
He had reacted. He'd felt it.
And yet—he still fell as if he'd willingly thrown himself onto Seiya's blade.
"Damn…"
Even now—
Ōetsu still couldn't understand what happened. As a member of the Royal Guard, his failure to grasp this was almost disgraceful.
But—if it was Seiya…
Perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all.
He'd been preparing for this for years.
Seiya gave a casual flick of his Zanpakutō, casting off invisible blood. His gaze was distant, like he was in a trance, muttering softly:
"Surprised? Well…"
"I suppose that's only natural."
"To me, the power of Asura seems like it was born specifically to deal with people like you."
Eight Aspects of the Heavenly Dragon – Asura.
In the Buddhist texts, the Asura are warlike, fierce, and unruly.
Males are hideous, females alluring. Their princes are jealous and combative, always disputing teachings, twisting logic.
Where the Buddha taught "Four Foundations of Mindfulness," the Asura proclaimed "Five."
Always more. Always one step further.
Thus… the Way of Asura is a path of contradiction.
The Divine Generals should've been familiar with this logic.
With Ichibē present, the Royal Guard had already theorized potential aspects of Seiya's powers.
Asura had been expected to be explosive in nature—overwhelming force.
A head-on clash? Bring it on.
But…
Reality was nothing like they expected.
It wasn't just some brute force—it bent causality, altered perception.
It was absurd.
"To think… it's as troublesome as Tenbu's future-sensing ability…"
Ōetsu muttered weakly.
Seiya adjusted his stance, regulating his breath, replying softly:
"You've guessed… somewhat correctly."
Their information wasn't entirely wrong—except for one crucial detail.
Asura and Tenbu are natural enemies.
Where Tenbu sees possible futures, Asura cuts through the visible timeline—shortens it, edits it, deletes it.
If Seiya analyzes and locks onto a target—
They can no longer escape.
Without another word, Seiya vanished.
He appeared before Ōetsu, blade thrust like a serpent toward his heart.
A wide, direct strike. No feints.
Even in his state, dodging wasn't impossible for Ōetsu. He bent his knees, ready to spring—
But that feeling returned.
That inexplicable oppression.
What was this?
Ōetsu didn't know. But in Seiya's eyes—
He saw it.
The countless afterimages radiating from Ōetsu—each one a potential future.
Each unique, translucent.
Two hundred thirty-nine in total.
Two hundred involved dodging or blocking.
The rest were limb-sacrificing escapes, or…
Two of them—
Actually wounded Seiya.
Impressive.
Even this far gone, Ōetsu still had fight in him.
But that's as far as it went.
With a thought, half those futures shattered into glittering dust.
The rest—warped, pulled by Seiya's movements like a gravitational force distorting reality.
They collapsed, erased.
Future after future… gone.
Erased completely.
Even without knowing the cause, Ōetsu felt it.
That's what had disturbed both him and Kirinji.
Seiya wasn't just reading the future—
He was erasing it.
Erasing all hope.
Ōetsu watched helplessly as Seiya's blade pierced his chest and exited through his back.
"Guh…!"
Not even modified by the Ōken, the divine body enhancements, could he resist that blow.
Ōetsu's face went slack.
"You…"
He couldn't speak. The blood loss hit him like a hammer.
Seiya withdrew, the blade dragging wetly through flesh.
Ōetsu's Zanpakutō clattered from his hand.
He tumbled down like a severed kite, crashing toward the Soul King Palace.
"So troublesome, this ability…"
Even in defeat, he seemed to understand.
He wanted to warn the others.
But it was too late. His body had reached its limit.
Vision blurring, Ōetsu looked at Seiya one last time.
That guy…
Ichibē's paranoia was justified.
Seiya didn't even glance down at the falling man.
His gaze turned to the remaining three.
He raised his blade once more.
Silent challenge.
Asura could twist fate, grant swift victory.
But it wasn't infinite.
Just like Tenbu, it required time to observe, analyze spiritual pressure.
Luckily, Seiya had already been watching from the start.
The reason he and Aizen believed this power was a perfect counter?
The intel they shared beforehand.
The Royal Guard aren't allowed to release their Bankai unless in a crisis.
Their Bankai would disrupt their reiryoku so severely that it would nullify Seiya's ability to analyze them.
But that restriction—
Played right into Seiya's hand.
He'd struck before they could act.
Ōetsu may have realized it… but too late to share it.
And even then, Seiya had no intention of explaining it.
They die here. Simple.
Besides…
He couldn't give them a chance to recover.
Once only one Royal Guard remained, that person might be allowed to use their Bankai.
A sort of 'mechanic.'
Before that could happen, he had to end it.
Fast.
His reiryoku… still stable.
First time using Asura. Based on output, he could guess how much he had left.
Taking out the remaining three… would be tough.
But it had to be done.
Deep breath.
He murmured Asura's name.
The world turned gray-white in his eyes.
Everything froze.
Time, motion—solidified like wax.
And then—
Three grotesque, translucent flowers bloomed before him.
Each was a Divine General—posture, stance, ready to strike.
Overlapping, mirrored, layered.
So many futures—
Too many to count.
They blurred together like static.
And so…
What could Seiya do?
Only one thing.
He clenched his blade and stepped forward.
Reiryoku surged.
The air shimmered and cracked.
The gray world twisted and warped.
Time compressed—at a cost.
Seiya's spiritual power drained rapidly.
A secret war.
A one-against-three—
No—one against four.
Seiya stumbled.
His breath grew ragged.
Before him, the mirror of futures fractured like glass.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Finally—
He found it.
Three futures.
Converging.
In that split second—
His body tensed.
Muscles remembered what they'd trained.
Instinct executed what logic demanded.
Seiya struck.
One. Two. Three.
And time resumed.
The gear of reality spun.
With it—
Three cries of pain.
Blood and silence followed.
Kirinji's head soared skyward.
Hikifune was cleaved cleanly in two.
Senjumaru stood frozen.
Seiya stood before her—his blade sunk deep in her chest.
Sweat trickled from his brow.
His face was unreadable.
Senjumaru stared in disbelief.
Seiya twisted the blade.
"I'm sorry. I had to step over you."
"You…"
The wound widened.
Before she could scream—
He yanked the blade out.
A geyser of blood rained down.
The three fell like shattered marionettes.
Seiya alone remained standing.
Like a dream.
Like art.
Like a massacre.
The Divine Generals—
The elite of the Soul King's Guard.
Slain in an instant.
Seiya sheathed his sword.
Exhaled.
The Royal Guard—cut down.
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Powerstones?
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