The Blood Demon
The momentary silence that followed Amok's attack felt deafening. Yuri looked at his own chest, where there was now a giant hole, blood gushing like an uncontrollable fountain. He tried to use his blood manipulation to contain the wound, but the internal damage was too severe. Destroyed organs, vital energy escaping. For the first time, the self-proclaimed "blood demon" tasted the bitter flavor of despair.
Alkaraz, in turn, was on his knees, his body exhausted and lifeless. With Amok's departure, he had lost his strength, speed, and agility. His energy sword had disappeared, as had his cloak, leaving him vulnerable. The absence of demonic power also meant that the previously regenerated wounds began to bleed again. Without his arm and with his body in shambles, he looked like a broken man.
Yuzuki watched the scene, the weight of everything that was happening falling upon him. Alkaraz, who just minutes ago had been an unstoppable force, was now at the mercy of the enemy. Yuri, still trembling in shock, gnashed his teeth.
— Alkaraz... — he murmured, as tears of blood streamed from his eyes. — You don't deserve this end. If I can't save your memory, at least I'll give you a dignified death.
The Bond of Amok and Alkaraz
With a cry of hatred and pain, Yuri raised his remaining arm and summoned blood thorns that slowly pierced Alkaraz's body. Each piece was torn away with meticulous brutality: fingers, ears, chunks of flesh. The warrior, drained of strength, did not scream, but his eyes held a glimmer of defiance until the last second.
"Sorry… boss." Those were his final words before he was reduced to a mutilated corpse.
Yuzuki felt a lump in his throat, his stomach churning as he witnessed such cruelty. He had never seen anything so brutal, nor could he imagine the enemy committing such heinous acts against someone so close.
Meanwhile, Mao watched with an amused smile.
"Interesting… so interesting…" he murmured, as if admiring a spectacle.
Amok, now partially manifested, seized the chance to taunt:
"And you? Will you just stand by and watch? Or have you realized he doesn't need you?"
Mao laughed, though tension was evident on his expression.
"Do you think that matters? He may toy with you now, but in the end… everyone returns to me."
Amok ignored the provocation and turned to Yuzuki.
"Are you ready to continue, boy? Because, honestly, I've never been so comfortable. You are the perfect piece."
With a gesture, Amok began to partially heal Yuzuki. The young man's wounds started to close, and a new wave of energy took hold of his body.
"This is… incredible." Yuzuki murmured, unnerved by their synchronicity. He had never felt anything like this with Mao, who always left him at the mercy of his own strength.
The Rise of Yuzuki and the Final Confrontation with Yuri
Taken by the new energy, Yuzuki raised his sword. He repeated the same rallying cry that Alkaraz had used before invoking Amok:
"Come to me, Amok, the blade demon!"
Although Amok did not appear in full form, a dense, pulsating energy enveloped Yuzuki. His eyes glowed an intense red, and his stance was that of a warrior reborn.
Yuri, still wounded and consumed by hatred, charged with all he had.
"No matter what you have now, Yuzuki! I will finish you here and now!"
But Yuri was no longer a match. With swift, precise strikes, Yuzuki humiliated him—slicing away each part of his body. A finger, an ear, a piece of his arm. With every cut, Yuri's despair grew, while Yuzuki's strength multiplied.
Finally, Yuzuki unleashed a technique he had copied from Alkaraz: Ventriloquist Slash.
"This is the end, Yuri. For the blood you've spilled, there is no redemption for you."
The attack was devastating. The blade struck Yuri from every direction, shredding him into a thousand pieces. Blood stained the battlefield, but the silence that followed was deafening.
The Inner Conflict Between Mao and Amok
As Yuzuki panted heavily, Amok manifested once more, clearly satisfied.
"Now you're on the right path, boy."
Mao, watching from afar, could not conceal his discomfort.
"Do you really think he belongs to you, Amok? Don't forget: pacts are treacherous."
Amok laughed.
"Perhaps. But for the first time in centuries, I feel I've found someone compatible. Someone worthy. Something you've never managed, Mao."
The Bond Between Amok and Alkaraz
As the demons traded barbs, Yuzuki looked down at his hands. The energy flowing through him was nearly overwhelming, but the cost of it all weighed heavily on his mind. He did not know if he could trust Amok, yet in that moment, he felt he had no choice.
He tightened his fist around the sword.
"Mao, Amok… it doesn't matter who you are or what you want. As long as I live, I will use this power to protect what remains of this world."
The Burden of Victory
Yuri's death and the collapse of the red barrier surrounding Salem echoed through the city in a disturbing silence. The sky, once burning a crimson hue, dissolved into a dark, cold night; the blood rain began to give way to a normal, cold—but comforting—shower. The battle, which had raged for nearly eight hours, was finally over, but the price had been immense.
The streets bore the scars of devastation. The bar where the fight had culminated lay in ruins—only fragments of walls and rubble remained. Yet, surveying the rest of the city, the scene was even more terrifying: homes lay in shambles, and the bodies of innocents lay strewn about, victims of Yuri's blood ritual. Death and destruction had claimed Salem. Still, the lives Yuzuki had managed to save could not be ignored.
The populace, once fearful and desperate, now looked upon Yuzuki with a mixture of relief and sorrow. Those he had rescued in the bar—children and adults alike—approached him, their eyes filled with gratitude and grief. "You saved our lives…" a woman whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Yuzuki looked upon them, a crushing weight in his chest. He knew he could not save everyone.
Yet as he observed the faces of the rescued, his thoughts drifted back to his allies in the castle, still unconscious. He remembered how he had betrayed them, lulling them to sleep while they prayed. They had wanted to join him in defeating Alkaraz, and he had left them behind—abandoning them at the moment they needed him most. Guilt gnawed at him, but he knew the path he had chosen was unavoidable.
Mao, his eternal demonic companion, watched with a sadistic smile. "You will never escape this, Yuzuki," Mao taunted. "They came after you the moment you made your pact with me. You stole Fausto's book and murdered Alkaraz's father in his sleep. Need I mention the clan, the village… the lies and manipulations that brought you here? I know everything about you, Yuzuki. And I know that, in the end, it's what makes you who you are." Mao laughed, reveling in his ally's agony.
Yuzuki remained silent, eyes fixed on the devastated horizon. He knew Mao spoke the truth, but the weight of it was almost unbearable.
Amok, standing in silent presence, observed without directly joining the conversation. His tone was darker, more measured. "No matter which path you choose, Yuzuki—good or evil—just use me, and I will use you. Mao doesn't know what you're capable of, but I do. I know…" Amok's voice carried a threatening promise, laced with an odd respect.
Mao, watching the exchange between Yuzuki and Amok, grew more provocative. "Your friends don't know the truth, Yuzuki. You should tell them what you did to summon me. Akari, Gotier, even that worthless Zeke—they'd all be very curious to hear." He laughed, mocking Yuzuki. "But I know, Yuzuki… I know that, deep down, you're like me. A monster, just like me—and that's the only thing I truly respect about you."
Mao's words echoed in his mind, but Yuzuki focused on what lay before him: the city, his allies, the weight of his choices. The inner war he waged with himself was far from over. He did not know if any path to redemption remained or if he had lost himself forever. But one thing was certain: the power now rested in his hands, and the price of attaining it was written in every ruin, in every life lost.
Yuzuki's body was completely worn out by battle. He felt pain in his limbs, his muscles tight and aching, and the blood still trickling from several superficial cuts. His right ear, which had been severed during combat, had already begun to heal, but the damage was done. He leaned against a shattered wall, exhaustion overwhelming him.
Yet despite the fatigue, something else was growing within him, something he had never felt before: a direct connection to Amok's power, a terrifying synchronicity that made him question his own intentions. He was being shaped by something greater than himself.
As Mao and Amok traded barbs, Yuzuki looked to the horizon—to the dark sky and the rubble of Salem—and, with a deep sigh, he spoke softly, more to himself than to any other:
"Maybe I am the demon they all say I am. But at least, I am my own master."
The chapter ends with Yuzuki staring at the ruins of Salem—a broken man, but not defeated.