Grand entrance

Meanwhile – Akatsuki vs. Ghost

Ghost stood taller than before, his frame broader, hair longer and unkempt — a physical reflection of the battles he'd endured. With a wordless roar, he lunged at Akatsuki, each step cracking the ground beneath him.

Akatsuki inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He let the weight of the air, the tremor of each step, and the faint scent of mana guide him. Without sight, his other senses sharpened, weaving together a perfect map of Ghost's movements. With fluid grace, he sidestepped the attack, his footwork light as air.

A playful whistle echoed in his mind, Eve's voice ringing with mock admiration.

"Not bad, kid. You're not half-assed after all. Alright, I'm charging the next rounds with my mana — enough to end this in one shot. Because frankly, I'm not in the mood to die today."

Ghost twisted mid-strike, narrowly avoiding colliding with the wall. Landing with a heavy thud, he extended a hand, gathering threads of mana from the air around him.

"Lacing Mirrors."

Reflective walls erupted around Akatsuki, sealing him inside a labyrinth of shimmering glass. Ghost's form flickered between the mirrors, moving at a speed just shy of sound, his reflection multiplying until it was impossible to track which was real.

Akatsuki remained still, eyes half-lidded, unbothered by the illusion. His patience held firm as Ghost's killing intent closed in from all sides.

The moment Ghost's attack came — a flurry of blades converging from every direction — Akatsuki's body moved on instinct. He leapt high into the air, coat billowing, both guns aimed downward at the maze below.

Eve's voice cut through the noise.

"Now!"

Without hesitation, Akatsuki pulled both triggers.

A roaring torrent of pink-dark mana exploded from the barrels, the force shaking the very air. The blast expanded outward, tearing through the mirrored walls with ease, shattering the clones into nothingness.

When the smoke cleared, Ghost stood alone, his body riddled with burns, a gaping wound in his chest. Blood bubbled past his lips as he staggered, but a crooked smile still clung to his face.

"Hngh… Damn…" Ghost coughed, knees trembling. "I… underestimated you. You're not just some clown after all…"

He staggered, the last of his strength failing.

"Guess I'll leave the rest to him…"

With a heavy thud, Ghost's body collapsed, lifeless.

Akatsuki's breath came in quiet bursts as he lowered his guns, sweat slicking his brow. Just as he began to relax, the faintest flicker of movement triggered his instincts — someone was behind him. A blindingly fast strike cut through the air, too swift for him to fully react.

But before the blade could reach him, another figure intervened.

With effortless power, the newcomer intercepted the blow, his foot slamming into the attacker's wrist, deflecting the strike with almost casual ease. He landed gracefully, silver hair swaying as his calm eyes swept the battlefield.

Akatsuki instinctively jumped back, guns raised — but the silver-haired man merely sighed.

"Relax." His voice was calm, but the weight behind it was undeniable. "I'm not your enemy."

He stepped forward, the aura of someone who'd long abandoned fear or doubt clinging to his every move.

"I'm only here to protect my family." His gaze settled on Akatsuki. "The name's Ryomen Carnage."

The attacker lunged again, blade flashing in the dim light. Ryomen shifted his stance ever so slightly, his foot sweeping out in a precise arc. His heel connected with the attacker's knee, the joint twisting with a sickening snap. Before they could scream, Ryomen's hand closed around their throat like a vice.

With brutal efficiency, he slammed them into the ground — once, twice, over and over, until the floor itself cracked beneath their body.

Releasing his grip, Ryomen raised his left foot. From beneath his sole, pitch-black flames erupted, writhing unnaturally as though alive. He reached into his coat, pulling out a cigar and lazily touching its tip to the infernal fire, lighting it with casual indifference.

Exhaling a thin stream of smoke, he brought his foot down, the black flames consuming the attacker's neck. Flesh sizzled, the stench of burning meat filling the air.

"Devil's Foot." His tone was flat, almost disinterested. "That's the name of this little trick."

The battlefield fell silent, even the air itself seeming to hold its breath.

Ryomen turned, his gaze sweeping past Akatsuki and the others, With surprising gentleness, he knelt down, lifting Dazai's battered body in his arms.

He glanced at Akatsuki, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"So you've grown." His eyes narrowed slightly as he inhaled the scent clinging to Dazai. "Hmph… though you reek of too many different kinds of mana. You'll be fine."

He turned toward the gathered onlookers.

"And all of you…" His voice softened, just a touch. "Thanks for keeping an eye on my boy."