Natsuku watched with bewilderment the inhuman agility of Kiyo. His movements gave the impression of flowing effortlessly, as if everything around him was moving more slowly.
"This is going to be interesting," commented Natsuku.
Without wasting another second, he launched himself at Kiyo with the speed of a shadow, throwing a direct punch at his face. But Kiyo dodged with a slight twist, as if the attack were advancing in slow motion. A left hook followed the assault, but Kiyo avoided it with the same ease, returning a precise knee to Natsuku's stomach. This time, the impact was palpable, even through the armor that protected his body.
"Is this all you have?" mocked Kiyo, sporting a superior smile. "Come on, Natsuku, you're boring me."
"Typical human, relying on luck," grunted Natsuku. "This is just beginning."
Natsuku launched a barrage of punches from all directions, but Kiyo evaded them. Despite the burning in his chest, Kiyo enjoyed the combat, observing how everything around him moved slowly.
Natsuku brandished his sword, intending to finish his opponent with a single stroke. However, Kiyo dodged the mortal cut. Natsuku's eyes filled with frustration, and with a burst of desperation, he launched a series of frantic slashes. The blade grazed flesh but never sank deep enough.
But Kiyo did not hesitate. His counterattack was relentless. Two punches found Natsuku's face, followed by a couple of accurate blows to his abdomen. He barely had time to react before one of those precise and firm strikes impacted near his hand, forcing him to drop the sword.
Kiyo did not miss the opportunity. He grabbed Natsuku's head, enjoying the moment, and smashed it against his knee, while the man fell staggering, disoriented, unable to comprehend how he had fallen so low.
"Tell me, why are you looking for Kirata?"
In an almost reflexive act, Kiyo directed his gaze to the sword lying on the ground, a glint of determination in his eyes. Without thinking twice, he lunged for the weapon, but as soon as his fingers closed around the hilt, a scorching fire spread through his hand and arm, as if he had touched the very essence of hell.
The heat was so intense that he felt his skin cracking, as if every cell burned on contact. The heat burned his palm, forcing him to release it with a stifled groan. A grimace of pain appeared on his face as he shook his hand in a futile attempt to alleviate the burn.
Natsuku watched as Kiyo tried to recover. He needed no further invitation; in an instant, he launched himself at him, moving like a predatory beast that sniffed out the fragility of its prey.
Without hesitation, he attacked again—a brutal blow reached Kiyo's stomach, leaving him breathless, followed by a kick that knocked him down with a crash. The pain of the burn and the impact of the blows mingled in a single whirlwind of agony, as Kiyo desperately tried to cling to consciousness.
With a disdainful smile curling his lips, Natsuku looked down at him, as if victory already belonged to him.
"Do you really think a mere mortal like you can handle the weapons of my kind?" he asked with a tone imbued with mockery. "You can't even withstand the heat of its touch. These weapons are not made for such insignificant beings."
He launched himself again, this time with an almost primal ferocity. His fists and legs moved like an unleashed storm, each blow charged with satisfaction.
The blows rained down on Kiyo with inhuman intensity. His body writhed with each impact, the pain being the only constant. He tried to protect himself, to find an opening, but Natsuku's attacks were like an unstoppable, crushing tide. His laughter resonated in the air, fueled by Kiyo's agony, as if each scream were music to his ears.
From a distance, my eyes filled with helplessness upon seeing how Kiyo endured each blow. It was as if, with each assault, I saw my own body fragmenting.
My body reacted before I could think, moving almost by instinct. There was no time to hesitate; I couldn't let this continue.
My eyes fixed on the sword lying on the ground, that same sword that had burned Kiyo's hands. I approached with hurried steps, without thinking about the consequences. As soon as my fingers touched the cold hilt, a dark current of shadows emerged from the sword, enveloping my hands like living snakes. It was as if the weapon recognized my presence, accepting me.
It didn't burn me, not like Kiyo, but the weight of the weapon made me feel insignificant. The weight of the sword was overwhelming, crushing, as if it wanted to sink me into the earth. Each step I took was a battle in itself, but I couldn't stop. Not now. Not when everything depended on me.
I felt my arms tremble under the weight of the sword, but I advanced.
Natsuku was focused on Kiyo, sure of his victory, and did not see what was about to happen. With all the strength I could muster, I lifted the sword and plunged it into his chest. The impact was brutal. I felt the blade piercing, penetrating his flesh and armor as if it were butter. Natsuku's body tensed, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.
The demon's eyes opened, his disbelief reflected in every line of his face. His mouth opened slightly, as if searching for words he would never find.
His body, once imposing, began to give way, collapsing to the ground with the sword still embedded in his chest.
There was no time to celebrate or to process what I had just done; I ran toward Kiyo.
I approached Kiyo; his body still trembled slightly from the intensity of the fight. I extended a hand to him, and for an instant, our eyes met. In his, I saw a mix of exhaustion and surprise, as if he didn't expect to find help so soon. It was a brief moment, but the recognition was there, silent, in the air between us.
Before he could react, Minata appeared running toward us. Her face, normally serene, was now marked by anguish. She threw herself at Kiyo, wrapping him in an embrace so strong it seemed she feared that if she let go, he would vanish into thin air.