Darkness wrapped around them like an unyielding mantle, absorbing even the idea of light. The shadows didn't just fill the space—they distorted it, bending the very perception of reality. The Raven King stood there, motionless, yet his presence grew, becoming an inescapable sentence.
Kiyoshi felt his sword tremble in its sheath, an instinct he knew well. The danger before him was real—greater than anything he had faced until now. Zeta 4 analyzed the creature with mechanical precision, sensors recalibrating, searching for a weakness.
"Stronger than anything we've faced," Zeta 4 calculated, voice devoid of emotion. "But still inferior to Magnalith. Against Magnalith, we had reinforcements. Here, we are alone. Probability of victory… below average."
Kiyoshi didn't respond. He didn't need to.
The Raven King advanced.
There was no visible movement, no displacement in the air. He was simply there—where he hadn't been before. His obsidian blade was already descending toward Kiyoshi, a strike of pure execution.
The samurai reacted on instinct, his spiritual katana leaving its sheath in a flash of emerald light. The clash of blades shattered the ground beneath them, sending cracks outward like veins of a fractured world.
The shadows rose as if possessing their own will, engulfing Kiyoshi in an instant.
They weren't mere absence of light—they were judgment incarnate, a trial without judge, an execution without executioner. He felt his body sink, the pressure trying to crush him, to pull him into something worse than death.
But he cut.
He didn't just cut matter or energy—he severed the Raven King's imposition.
The emerald light tore through the darkness, and Kiyoshi emerged, spinning in midair, unleashing another draw of his blade with the intent to slice beyond the physical.
But the black sword never completed its arc.
Because Zeta 4 was already there.
The android's combat protocols engaged. Plates of metallic liquid expanded, his frame growing to fifteen meters. His visor pulsed with a cold, blue glow, recalibrating target predictions as plasma blades ignited with a hiss.
Shoulder cannons activated, releasing a blinding blast that made the cavern itself recoil. Plasma projectiles surged forward, roaring through the void toward the Raven King.
The feathers rose.
They spread like a wall of night, absorbing the plasma as if consuming it, drinking every photon until the glow was gone.
The Raven King opened his beak.
No sound came out.
But Zeta 4 felt it.
The shadows surged, prying at his frame, attempting to disassemble him atom by atom. Circuits protested, warning systems blared as plates of armor were forcefully separated by invisible hands.
He retaliated with bursts of energy, his plasma whips snapping through the air, trying to force a gap.
Nothing pierced through.
The plasma whip lashed at the Raven King's torso, but when it connected, it was like striking the event horizon of a black hole. The energy vanished.
The creature raised a hand.
The whip was caught.
Zeta 4 was yanked forward, his fifteen-meter frame dragged like a puppet. The wings of the Raven King spread wide, their feathers morphing into serrated blades.
They descended—a strike meant to bisect the android with ruthless precision.
But Kiyoshi was already there.
He burst from the darkness, his spiritual sword shimmering like a fracture in the world. The collision between sword and wings resonated through the cavern, releasing a shockwave that sent fragments of black rock flying.
Feathers broke free, drifting through the air like dark leaves.
Then they moved.
The feathers hovered for a moment.
And attacked.
They turned into spears, sharp and relentless, each targeting the intruders with predatory intent.
Zeta 4 launched light grenades. The detonations briefly illuminated the void, forcing the feathers to hesitate, dissolving some in the burst of radiance.
Kiyoshi moved like lightning, his sword tracing glowing arcs through the air, intercepting each feather mid-flight. His body shimmered with emerald light, each movement a blur too swift for mortal perception.
The Raven King reappeared, his sword already cleaving downward.
Its swordplay was profane.
Every strike came before it was seen.
Kiyoshi parried, dodged, and blocked, but the pressure intensified with every clash.
The Raven King did not fight with anger.
He did not fight for pride.
He fought as a king delivering a verdict.
But they were adapting.
Zeta 4 recalculated the attack patterns.
Kiyoshi sensed the rhythm.
The synergy between man and machine refined with each heartbeat.
They no longer fought to survive.
They fought to win.