Chapter 133: The Judgment of Bakuzan
The creature, panting, watches Sakolomé lying on the ground, unconscious.
A long silence weighs, almost sacred.
She approaches, step by step, claws trembling, breath short.
A doubt sprouts within her, this insane power… did it really come from that lying, inert, barely human body?
She freezes. A shiver invades her.
And without understanding why, she steps back.
She sits down. For the first time.
Not to leap. Not to kill.
But to observe.
Her dark gaze lifts toward the wounded sky.
This world...
This unknown world...
This world she had attacked in ignorance, in fear, in the raw instinct of survival.
Then…
Clap. Clap.
Steps.
Slow.
Cold.
Sure.
She raises her head, alert, like a fearful animal.
A masked silhouette approaches.
A white mask without expression, erased like the moon in an ink-black sky.
A long black cloak. A hood pulled down to the eyes.
It is Bakuzan.
He says nothing. He watches.
His gaze beneath the mask sweeps the field of ruins.
Inert bodies. Breaths almost extinguished.
And among them, a silhouette too motionless… too silent.
Sally.
He advances. Slowly.
Then kneels.
He brushes her cold cheek, caresses a strand of hair turned pink like a withered flower.
Bakuzan (broken voice):
"Sally... No... You… you are not dead… Please… wake up."
But she does not respond.
She no longer breathed.
Her body had left the world long before dawn knew it.
Bakuzan places both hands on her.
His dark mana flows, snakes over her skin, tries to rekindle the spark.
Nothing.
He tries again.
Again.
Again.
But the universe returns the same icy silence.
His mask trembles.
Then his voice resonates, hoarse, crushed by pain:
Bakuzan:
"To think I had finally found… how to tear you away from that demon... the one I saw that day..."
His fist clenches.
And in the shadow, the creature, this entity of fear and fury, watches silently.
The human grief, that inimitable void, pierces it.
Bakuzan (kneeling, trembling voice):
You remember… I promised to save you?
But how could I now?
You are dead, Sally.
The demon is not even here anymore... It devoured you, consumed you from within, down to the last shard of soul.
He tightens his gloved fist, raises his eyes, unable to shed a visible tear beneath his mask.
__ You were not part of my family by blood... but I always considered you as such.
You were there. You stayed. You did not judge us like the others.
You were precious, Sally...
And now, someone as precious as you... is gone.
Bakuzan lifts his head, watching the sky filling with ink-black clouds.
The first distant rumbles roll high above, echoes of a world that also weeps.
Bakuzan (in a softer voice, broken by regret):
You know… I had imagined a future.
You, becoming Sakolomé's wife.
A son of yours, a joyful, lively child.
I pictured myself visiting one day. Salomé and you, in the kitchen, chatting like two mature women.
And us men, in the living room. Sakolomé, irresponsible father as always, letting the little one play with scissors near an electric socket.
You would have arrived just in time, of course.
You would have scolded him.
And Bakuran and I would have laughed in a corner...
It's silly, isn't it? But that's the future I wanted.
The rain begins to fall.
Cold. Heavy. Persistent.
Bakuzan remains still, face raised, his mask wet, as if silently praying in this cathedral of ruins.
The creature, meanwhile, sits nearby, still mute, her gaze empty, lost between puddles and rubble.
She says nothing. She perhaps listens. Or understands.
Bakuzan gently takes Sally's hand, frozen, cold.
__ Rest in peace, Sally... I already miss you. Too much...
He slowly removes his mask.
His face is visible now, hard features split by silent pain, contained grief.
He places the mask on Sally's face with sacred respect.
Then he removes his long black cloak and lays it over her, like a shroud.
__ You mustn't catch cold… wherever you are now.
It's pouring here, in the world of the living.
He stays like this, silent.
A long moment.
Then he adds, softly:
__ Sally... One day maybe, I too will descend into the world of the dead.
And if that day comes, I want you to wear this mask.
That way, I will recognize you… And I will ask you to come back with me.
Bakuzan slowly stands, still facing the rain-darkened sky.
He closes his eyes.
Echoes resonate in his mind.
Laughter. A gentle voice.
Sally.
"You're going to make that stern big brother face again, Bakuzan?"
"You're not as mean as you want to make people believe, you know."
A silent tear slides down his cheek, blending with the rain.
Time seems suspended. Drops fall in slow motion, as if the world itself wanted to honor this moment.
Then his eyelids open slowly. His gaze turns icy.
He fixes the creature.
Bakuzan (sharp voice):
You… All of this is your fault.
The creature immediately senses the hostility. She screams in rage, a guttural, bestial cry.
Creature:
WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!
She lunges at full speed. But Bakuzan vanishes instantly.
A breath. A shadow.
BIM. BAM.
Two sharp, lightning-fast strikes.
The creature flies backward and crashes violently to the ground.
Bakuzan snaps his fingers.
A veil of black mana spreads, enveloping the whole scene in a supernatural fog.
Pressure rises. The air grows heavy.
Bakuzan (cold, sharp):
You struck those who matter to me.
You caused the death of someone dear to my heart.
There is only one price for that: your own death.
The black mana condenses, rises like a totem of wrath.
It forms a giant.
White. Luminous. Faceless.
A colossal humanoid being, with a blue circle on its forehead, at its center a downward-pointing triangle.
The heavens part. The earth trembles.
Bakuzan (clenched fist):
F-Kgod...
60% of my power will suffice.
Crush this monster for me.
The F-Kgod roars without mouth, without sound, just by presence.
It leaps.
The creature screams in return, and throws itself at him.
BOOOOOM.
The impact is titanic.
Raindrops explode under the pressure.
The ground fractures. Trees, ruins, everything collapses under the shockwave.
The F-Kgod grabs the creature in its enormous hands, slams it violently to the ground.
Then, in methodical fury, it pounds fist after fist, shattering the earth, burying the creature under a rain of titanic blows.
But the creature screams, breaks free, rises, and attempts a new charge.
Too slow.
The F-Kgod anticipates it.
One blow.
A slap of raw energy.
CRAACK.
Space cracks, bends, twists like glass.
Bakuzan raises his arms.
Chains spring forth from the very shadow.
Black. Hostile. Soaked with hatred.
They coil around the creature, lacerating its energy, blocking its limbs, crushing it against the ground.
It screams, struggles, in vain.
Bakuzan (low, relentless voice):
You don't even deserve hell...
The F-Kgod crashes down on the creature.
Each of its blows is a cataclysm.
BOOOOM. CRAAACK. DOOOOOOM.
Lightning tears the sky. Thunder howls. Space itself cracks.
The divine giant's fists pound the creature relentlessly.
Bakuzan's eyes, icy, furious, burn like two judgments.
Unyielding. Merciless.
Bakuzan (thunder in his voice):
Die.
He lowers his hand.
ZZZZZZZZZTTT—BOOM!
A black lightning descends from the heavens, pierces the creature.
Its cry is muffled in a spray of blood and energy.
It is dominated.
Broken.
Terrified.
Each blow from the F-Kgod shatters its body like glass in a storm.
It struggles, but it is useless.
It is no longer a fight.
It is an execution.
It would want… someone to save it.
For a hand, any hand, to reach out and say: "It's over."
But there is only Bakuzan.
And Bakuzan does not reach out.
He commands the sentence.
Bakuzan:
Finish it.
The F-Kgod grabs the creature, crushes it in its gigantic palms.
Its hands close. A sphere of pure destruction forms.
FWWWWWSSHHHHHHHHHH—!
A white light explodes on the horizon.
Blinding. Divine. Definitive.
Then silence.
On the ground, what remains of the creature: a skeleton, still flanked by a few strands.
Nothing alive anymore.
Nothing formidable.
Just… an end.
Bakuzan lowers his eyes on it with contained disgust, then sighs deeply.
He snaps his fingers.
SHHHHHHH...
The F-Kgod dissolves into a mist of black mana.
Then, slowly, he turns toward Sakolomé, still lying farther away, unconscious under the rain.
He approaches, looking blasé, and gives him a light kick:
Bakuzan (sarcastic):
Hey, Sleeping Beauty…
Sakolomé half-opens his eyes.
It's still raining. Drops slide down his tired face.
Sakolomé (hoarse voice, stunned):
Baku…zan? Is that really you?
Bakuzan gives him a look both superior and brotherly.
Bakuzan (dry voice):
Happy birthday, fool.
I killed your monster on the way, you can thank me later.
Sakolomé (confused):
W-what?
Bakuzan slowly raises his hand.
His mana spills like a black tide, engulfing the scene, then the world.
The tears in space mend.
The ground reforms.
The wounds of the Earth close.
The disaster is reversed.
Everything is repaired. Even reality itself.
Then, he lowers his hand.
Bakuzan:
Well… I'm off.
Sakolomé (suddenly, desperate):
Wait!!
But he has no time to stop him.
Bakuzan had already disappeared.
Like a breath.