As Pyta's strength waned and his vision blurred, he found himself locked in a desperate struggle against Midas, who taunted him with every swing of his sword.
"The blood I'm losing is insane right now... I don't think I'll make it through the fight," Pyta admitted, his voice strained with exhaustion.
With lightning reflexes, Pyta dodged a sword thrust from Midas, his movements growing sluggish as the relentless assault took its toll.
"You're slow. Your blood loss is getting to you," Midas sneered, his attacks relentless as he pressed the advantage.
Pyta felt himself wobbling, his resolve faltering as the world spun around him.
"Gotta... win this..." Pyta muttered, his voice barely audible over the clash of steel.
But before he could muster the strength to fight back, Midas's fist connected with his face, sending him crashing to the ground.
"I'm playing with my food too much. I could've touched you—well, I can still do it now!" Midas taunted, reaching down towards Pyta.
With a groan, Pyta rolled back and leaped to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth as he braced himself for the next onslaught.
"That kind of woke me up," Pyta remarked, his gaze steely as he faced his opponent. "I'm ready for more. Hopefully, your next attack doesn't kill."
Midas sneered, his patience wearing thin as he advanced towards Pyta once more.
"I'm getting tired of you getting back up. Why won't you just die already?" Midas growled, frustration evident in his voice.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them transformed into gleaming gold, sending shockwaves of panic through the villagers.
"What are you doing?" Pyta demanded, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of the kingdom turning to gold.
"I turned the ground of the ENTIRE kingdom to gold, and I will destroy this kingdom," Midas declared, his voice dripping with malice.
As the villagers cried out in terror, Pyta's resolve hardened. He knew he had to act fast to save them from certain doom.
"I can't let you... DO THAT!!!" Pyta exclaimed, his voice ringing with determination.
With a swift motion, he fused his swords into a single blade and invoked his ultimate technique.
"AWAKEN! ZEN BUKI KAKUSEI!!!" Pyta cried out, his sword transforming into a replica of Midas's weapon.
Midas watched with a mixture of curiosity and disdain as Pyta wielded his own sword against him.
"So you have my weapon now. The ability of your awakening can copy any weapon, right?" Midas remarked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Pyta nodded, his grip tightening on the blade as he prepared for the final showdown.
"I have no idea actually, but I won't let it change the outcome of our battle," Pyta declared, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them.
As Midas prepared to unleash his devastating attack, Pyta turned to the terrified crowd, urging them to flee to safety.
"Why aren't any of you running away?" Pyta demanded, his eyes flashing with urgency.
Midas scoffed, dismissing their chances of escape as futile.
"Because running is useless. Nobody here is capable of running out of this kingdom. It's hopeless, escaping the inevitable is defying the impossible," Midas proclaimed, his voice laced with scorn.
Undeterred, Pyta took matters into his own hands, employing his spatial magic to whisk the villagers away to safety.
"I sent them far away," Pyta announced, his gaze locked on Midas as he braced himself for the final confrontation.
Meanwhile, high above the chaos, Shimisu soared through the air, clutching Enerida tightly as he raced to save his friend from certain doom.
Shimisu staggered through the wreckage, his body a canvas of scars and burns. The battlefield echoed with the clash of metal and the cries of the wounded. Yet, amidst the chaos, his resolve remained unshaken.
"I gotta get back!" Shimisu muttered through gritted teeth. "Being a battle-damaged guy isn't the best thing to be, but I want to help!"
His eyes scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of hope. Then, in the distance, a blinding explosion erupted, a colossal pillar of golden fury that painted the sky.
"And that's why! OF ALL PEOPLE, why do I have to create the smallest explosions," Shimisu lamented, frustration tinging his voice.
Meanwhile, Pyta stood battered but unyielding, his arms hanging limp at his sides. His once proud attire reduced to tatters, leaving him with nothing but shredded remnants clinging to his form. Despite the odds, he clung to his sword, a glimmer of defiance in his eyes.
"Still alive, I see," Midas sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "I'll make sure to change that."
With a swift motion, Midas swung his blade downward, aiming to end Pyta's defiance once and for all. But Pyta danced away, his limbs regaining strength with each heartbeat.
"Is that... ALL YOU GOT!?" Pyta roared, tears mingling with the dust on his cheeks.
Midas paused, confusion clouding his features. "Pardon?"
Pyta's laughter rang hollow, the sound of a broken spirit refusing to be silenced. "What is the point of this!? You've killed many to gain power... YOU killed my parents... You lied to me, lied to the people, and when it all came crashing down... You destroy all of it as if you're going to start over again... IS this a game to you!? Do you just not care... This is the empire that you built up. Why don't you seem to care about it?"
Midas regarded him with cold detachment. "Pyta. Game is game."
Undeterred, Pyta tightened his grip on his sword, blood staining his fingers. "Game is game..."
A manic grin twisted Pyta's lips as he stared down his oppressor. "You're a joke, a bad one at that... but you're a funny one. I don't even want to use your sword anymore," he chuckled darkly. "What a waste of mana."
Midas's gaze hardened, his resolve unbroken. "I guess you won't get to use the full power of Conquest."
"It was for the better," Pyta declared, his voice ringing with defiance. "I already used most of my mana on saving the people. I'll use the rest to beat you! Elemental mana burst!"
With a surge of energy, Pyta enveloped himself in a brilliant rainbow aura, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.
"You're powering up, I see..." Midas observed, his tone laced with interest. "Very well then, I'll follow suit. The true strength of Conquest lies in its power. Conquest! Give me ultra gold!"
In an instant, Midas transformed, his skin shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Neon blue radiated from his form, cracks of neon purple spider-webbing across his body.
"Conquest is quite the interesting sword," Midas mused, a hint of pride in his voice. "It gives the user a super form that complements their abilities."
Pyta surged forward, his blade flashing with rainbow brilliance. But to his dismay, it merely bounced off Midas's skin, as if striking solid steel.
"Now, boy, let me tell you a story," Midas began, his voice a chilling whisper amidst the chaos.
Pyta's onslaught faltered, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he faced his foe.
"This sword was owned by my father, Chrysós Midas Sr., who was also the ruler of the fallen kingdom Phrygia," Midas recounted, his words heavy with the weight of history.
As the battle raged on, Pyta listened intently, each word a revelation in the midst of conflict.
"When I was young," Midas continued, his voice tinged with sorrow, "the kingdom was going into poverty. My father prayed every day to find a way to bring his kingdom out of poverty. But one day, a god by the name of Dionysus granted him a golden touch."
Pyta's eyes widened in disbelief, the pieces of Midas's tragic past falling into place.
"It made anything he touched turn to gold," Midas explained, his gaze distant as he revisited memories long buried. "Though he had no control over it, and turning almost everyone, including his kingdom, into gold, leaving only me."
A shiver ran down Pyta's spine as he grasped the magnitude of Midas's burden.
"Shortly after losing everything, he lost sight of his family," Midas continued, his voice growing hollow with each word. "And ended his suffering, touching himself and turning himself into gold."
Pyta's breath caught in his throat, the weight of Midas's tragedy bearing down on him.
"The gold touch was actually a curse that spread after the original user died," Midas revealed, his tone heavy with regret. "And it was transferred to his sword Conquest. I grabbed the sword and not only became its new user, but also being the new host for the golden touch. And I soon mastered the touch."
A chill settled over the battlefield as Midas's tale reached its climax.
"I was left with nothing but gold," Midas concluded, his voice a whisper on the wind. "So I did the next best thing and used the gold to create a group of tyrants. And not so soon after that, I took over this kingdom."
Silence descended upon the battlefield as Pyta absorbed the weight of Midas's revelation. The clash of swords and the cries of the wounded faded into the background, leaving only the echoes of a tragic past and the promise of a uncertain future.
Pyta's sword trembled in his grip, the weight of Midas's words settling like a leaden mantle upon his shoulders. For a moment, the cacophony of battle was replaced by the quiet whisper of revelation.
"I... I had no idea," Pyta murmured, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos. "I never knew the depths of your suffering."
Midas regarded him with a mixture of disdain and resignation, the weight of his past etched into the lines of his face.
"There are no heroes in this world, Pyta," Midas declared, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "Only survivors."
With a heavy heart, Pyta lowered his sword, the fire of defiance dimming in his eyes.
"Then what are we fighting for?" Pyta whispered, his voice a plea for understanding.
Midas's gaze softened, a flicker of something akin to regret dancing in his eyes.
"We fight," Midas replied, his voice heavy with the burden of destiny, "because it is all we know."
And with those words hanging heavy in the air, the battle resumed, the clash of steel and the roar of magic echoing across the battlefield. But amidst the chaos and the carnage, two souls stood locked in a silent struggle, their destinies intertwined by the cruel hand of fate.
Pyta's sword blazed with radiant energy, its rainbow hues casting a mesmerizing glow across the battlefield. Midas, sensing the impending danger, instinctively dodged Pyta's next slash, a move that cleaved through a towering mountain of debris with ease, leaving a trail of iridescent light in its wake.
"You dodged that one," Pyta remarked, a small but malicious smile playing upon his lips. "Was it gonna cut?"
Midas's response was a terse acknowledgment. "That was... close."
Undeterred, Pyta's aura faded, only to be replaced by the shimmering brilliance of his rainbow magic-infused sword.
"This should be over in the next slash," Pyta declared, determination burning bright in his eyes.
Midas's lips curled into a smirk, his neon purple energy crackling with raw power.
"This form doesn't only make me tougher," Midas countered, his gaze never wavering from his opponent.
With a swift motion, Midas unleashed a wide beam of neon purple energy, striking Pyta and sending him hurtling through a massive pile of rubble.
"I'm surprised you're even moving in your current state," Midas observed, a note of incredulity in his voice. "All that blood loss and physical trauma hasn't caught up to you yet."
But Pyta rose from the wreckage, his smile undiminished by pain.
"It already has," Pyta confessed, his voice tinged with defiance. "I don't know why I'm moving right now, but this feeling of determination must be a muse."
Midas's patience wore thin, his irritation bubbling to the surface.
"Maybe you'll stop moving if I hit you hard enough," Midas taunted, his eyes narrowing in anticipation.
Pyta's response was a chilling chuckle. "That's a funny thing to think about."
With an almost effortless grace, Pyta closed the distance between them in an instant, his blade flashing with deadly intent. But once again, Midas proved elusive, dodging Pyta's slash with ease.
"Did you just... fly up to me?" Midas questioned, his disbelief palpable.
Pyta's smile widened, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"That was just a single leap forward," Pyta replied casually. "What, are you scared?"
Midas's eye twitched in annoyance, his patience wearing thin. With a swift strike, he shattered Pyta's arm, sending him crashing into yet another pile of rubble.
"That should do it," Midas declared triumphantly, his confidence unwavering.
Yet, as Pyta emerged from the rubble, his broken arm held aloft in a manic grin, it was clear that the battle was far from over.
Pyta's words hung heavy in the air, a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the chaos of battle.
"I know what this is now! Well... kind of," Pyta exclaimed, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his eyes. "This has to be some sort of... magical... morale boost."
Midas scoffed dismissively. "That's... stupid."
Undeterred, Pyta snapped his arm back into place with a grim determination. "Whatever works for me better!"
With blinding speed, Pyta surged forward, his sword thrusting towards Midas with lethal intent.
"It really is a shame that I can't turn things to gold in this form," Midas lamented, his voice tinged with regret. "I wouldn't mind losing some fingers over turning you to gold right now."
Midas attempted to block the thrust, but Pyta's relentless assault sent him flying backward, the force of the blow shaking the very ground beneath them.
"Your power is impressive!" Midas admitted, his admiration tinged with a hint of grudging respect. "But power alone can't get you through this battle!"
Undeterred, Pyta pressed on, his movements fluid and precise as he danced through Midas's onslaught of energy.
"You won't block the next one!" Pyta declared, determination burning bright in his eyes.
With a mighty leap, Pyta prepared to deliver a devastating blow to his opponent. But Midas was ready, his resolve unyielding as he infused his sword with ultra gold.
"I'll just stop you," Midas declared, his voice a thunderous roar as he unleashed a wave of dust and debris with earth-shattering force.
Pyta's attack faltered, the sheer power of Midas's counterstrike sending him reeling backward.
"My mana is almost gone," Pyta realized, his strength waning with each passing moment.
But just as despair threatened to consume him, a familiar voice pierced through the chaos.
"Pyta!"
Pyta's gaze snapped to the source of the voice, his heart swelling with hope at the sight of Shimisu and Enerida.
"Looks like you've made it to the party!" Pyta quipped, relief washing over him like a cool breeze.
Shimisu's expression was apologetic as he addressed Pyta. "Sorry about your kingdom! I'm almost certainly sure that Enerida caused this to happen."
Pyta's grin was infectious, his spirit undaunted by the trials they faced. "I don't mind it one bit! I'll find a way to undo it. If I have enough energy left to bring the villagers back, I'll rebuild this kingdom with my own bare hands!"
Midas's voice cut through the moment, a reminder of the battle that still raged around them.
"Oh, so it's a temporary teleportation spell!" Midas observed, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Pyta's response was defiant. "Yea, meaning they'll come right back here once I release my magic hold on it, but I'm smart enough to assume that you would be dead before that happens."
Midas remained unimpressed. "You've yet to land any crucial blows on me yet."
Pyta's smile was confident, his gaze steady as he faced his opponent head-on. "I only need one."
"And I only need one more hit on you to finish you off," Midas countered, his determination matching Pyta's own.
With a silent understanding, the two adversaries prepared for the final clash, their blades poised to strike with lethal precision.
"Then that settles it," Pyta declared, his voice ringing with resolve. "I'm almost out of mana, so I guess we can end this in a final clash of blades. I don't care if you follow suit or not. I'll just go out on my own terms. It's all or nothing."
"Very well," Midas agreed, his stance shifting into one of unwavering determination. "I'll make sure to put all of my power into this one."
As the tension mounted, Pyta's fingers trailed along the edge of his blade, drawing blood with a practiced ease.
"I haven't particularly waited for this moment my entire life," Pyta admitted, his voice tinged with anticipation. "But I did have something planned for a fight like this."
With a thunderous roar, Pyta launched himself forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision.
And in that fleeting moment, everything fell silent, the world holding its breath as the clash of blades echoed across the battlefield.
Then, with a resounding "KLING," the clash ended, leaving nothing but the wind whistling through the air as Pyta and Midas stood locked in a silent standoff.
But Pyta was not finished. With a single word, he unleashed his final, devastating technique.
"Quinquesect."
In an instant, Midas's arms and legs were severed clean from his body, leaving him sprawled upon the ground, defeated at last.
Pyta's breaths came ragged as he stood over the fallen form of Midas, disbelief mingling with exhaustion in his eyes.
"Even that didn't kill you," Pyta murmured, his voice barely audible amidst the wreckage.
Midas's response was a bitter retort. "Those... should be MY WORDS RIGHT NOW!"
Pyta's gaze softened, a reluctant admiration for his adversary shining through the haze of battle.
"You sure are a tough guy," Pyta conceded, a hint of begrudging respect coloring his words.
With deliberate steps, Pyta approached one of Midas's severed arms, still clenched around the hilt of his sword.
"Eventually, somebody else will get the gold touch and that sword!" Midas proclaimed defiantly, his voice laced with bitterness.
But before Pyta could respond, a sudden commotion drew his attention. The villagers, once scattered and displaced, had returned in a panicked frenzy.
"Everyone, look at the fool," Pyta called out, his voice ringing clear above the chaos. "Fallen from grace has he."
Shimisu's smile was bright as he approached, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation.
"Did you... win?" Shimisu inquired, his eyes alight with curiosity.
Pyta's grip tightened around Midas's sword, his resolve unyielding. Without a word, he drove the blade into Midas's heart, ending his reign of tyranny once and for all.
"I teleported you all here so I could use the very last of my mana to send him far away where nobody can touch him! Spatial Magic: Warp," Pyta explained, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
As Midas's body turned to pure gold and vanished from sight, a sense of finality settled over the battlefield.
"And as we know it, he's gone for good," Pyta declared, his gaze sweeping over the assembled villagers. "Shimisu, I assume that you and Enerida won your battles?"
Shimisu's response was succinct. "Bombed."
Pyta nodded in gratitude, his eyes alight with determination.
"Do you need help with... the kingdom? It's kind of... not there..." Shimisu offered, concern etched into his features.
But Pyta's resolve was unshakeable. "Don't worry. ALL MY PEOPLE! I WILL BUILD OUR KINGDOM BACK WITH JUST MY TWO HANDS!!!"
Before anyone could respond, a sudden presence made itself known. Juyo, his arrival unexpected, stood before them with an apologetic smile.
"What the-" Pyta began, his confusion palpable.
Shimisu's shock mirrored his own. "Juyo?!"
With a subtle motion, Juyo's arm began to glow with a faint purple aura, the passage of time bending to his will. And with a simple gesture, the devastation of battle was undone, the land restored to its former glory in the blink of an eye.
"Sorry for the inconvenience," Juyo offered with a sheepish grin, his power undeniable.
As the villagers gazed upon the miraculous sight before them, hope blossomed anew in their hearts, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity.
Shimisu's brow furrowed in confusion as Juyo's sudden appearance and disappearance left a lingering sense of unease in the air.
"Wait! Why are you here?!" Shimisu called out, his voice echoing through the stillness.
But Juyo offered no explanation, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Shimisu to grumble in frustration.
"And that's probably the first and last time I'll ever talk to that guy..." Shimisu muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.
Pyta's confusion mirrored Shimisu's own, his gaze flickering between his companions as they attempted to make sense of the situation.
"What- Just happened?" Pyta demanded, his voice tinged with frustration.
Shimisu sighed, a resigned expression crossing his features. "Juyo happened. Have you got any healers around? Enerida's gonna die in the next hour."
Before anyone could respond, a group of familiar faces appeared on the scene, their presence adding to the chaos of the moment.
"THAT WAS TOOOOTALLY TELEKINESIS!" came a voice from the crowd, drawing everyone's attention.
It was Nagarimu, Sani, Kuroshi, and Mizuma, their arrival accompanied by a barrage of banter and bickering.
"So you're saying telekinesis can grow back grass," Sani remarked, her skepticism evident in his tone.
"Erm- Plant...nesis," Mizuma corrected, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.
Shimisu's sarcasm was palpable as he greeted Mizuma. "What a wonderful surprise... Mizuma."
Mizuma's response was sharp, his words dripping with venom. "WELL WELL WELL, ISN'T IT MISTER YOU ALMOST KILLED MY SISTER."
A flashback unfolded before their eyes, a reminder of past conflicts and unresolved tensions.
The tension between Shimisu and Mizuma simmered beneath the surface, their exchange a testament to the animosity that lingered between them.
"Now I can really bomb you!!!" Shimisu declared, his frustration boiling over.
Mizuma's grin widened, a cruel glint in his eyes. "I could probably break ya arm right now WITH A SAVAGE STRIKE!!! DON'T YOU TEST ME."
Sani's intervention was swift, her voice a calming presence amidst the chaos. "Shimisu, please don't fight. We're here to pick you guys up."
Shimisu's expression softened, a sense of resignation settling over him. "It's only been all of... five months... damn time sure goes by fast."
Nagarimu's words cut through the tension, her tone grave with urgency. "And we're running out of time. We've spent much time training, but we've given our enemy plenty of time to strategize. We need to make our moves now."
As Pyta collapsed, Shimisu's concern was evident, his gaze flickering between his fallen comrade and his companions.
"Pyta-" Shimisu began, his voice laced with concern.
But Sani was quick to reassure him. "I'll heal him in a bit."
Nagarimu's words hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.
"Our enemy has probably grown their forces strength, and since we're apparently dealing with a mad scientist, they've probably come up with some new freaks," Nagarimu warned, her voice tinged with urgency.
Shimisu nodded, his resolve firm. "So are we gonna head straight for them?"
Kuroshi's response was decisive. "No, we need to get some of our power back... We need to save Ryoshi."