Shattered blades,fallen Moons

As Menma and Vel'Merath crossed blades, the clash echoed through the battlefield like the tolling of war bells.

Sparks flew, and pressure built with every swing.

Suddenly, with a swift flick of his wrist, Vel'Merath's weapon fragmented—multiple blades shooting off the handle and moving independently, like a swarm of sentient razors.

They attacked without hesitation, guided by Vel'Merath's mind alone.

Before Menma could react, one of the blades slipped past his defenses and stabbed deep into his back.

A sharp breath escaped his lips as pain bloomed through his torso, but he didn't fall.

His eyes flared with crimson rage. The demon blood within him surged, answering the call of pain with fury.

He reached back and, with pure brute strength, grabbed the embedded blades.

They trembled violently in his grip, trying to escape, but he didn't let go.

Menma held onto them, growling through clenched teeth. "You think that's enough to stop me?" he muttered, then lunged forward.

With a fierce roar, he raised his sword and aimed directly for Vel'Merath's neck. The strike was ruthless and fast—an executioner's blow.

But Vel'Merath, ever slippery, twisted at the last second.

The blade missed its mark, slicing only across his cheek and leaving a deep, stinging scratch.

Vel'Merath stumbled back, the detached blades returning to orbit him like loyal soldiers. He winced, touching the wound on his face.

"Damn… that's gonna leave a scar," he muttered, half-amused, half-irritated.

Menma didn't smile. "The scar will be the last thing you'll worry about," he said coldly.

"And by the way, you Purgatorists… when you get resurrected, I was always told no scar remains from your past battles. So then…" Menma's eyes narrowed.

"Why do you have that scar on your forehead?"

Vel'Merath smirked darkly. His gaze turned distant for just a moment. "Because I'm a special case," he said. "You'll see."

"Doesn't matter," Menma said, tightening his grip on his sword.

"Your fighting style—it's strangely familiar. It reminds me of my mother."

Vel'Merath gave a slow nod. "And yours, with that reckless power-counting, is similar to my brother."

His voice dropped an octave as his power shifted.

The moon above them pulsed, changing into the first moon—an omen that something was coming.

Menma's heart skipped. This was the moment—his chance to end it before the moon morphed into a shield.

He launched himself forward, feet cracking the ground as he raced for the kill.

But too late.

The moon twisted again, shifting into a waning shape.

In response, three enormous axes materialized in the air around Vel'Merath, each larger than a man.

They came down all at once, crashing with force strong enough to shatter mountains.

Menma's instincts screamed. He raised his sword and met the first axe mid-air.

The impact sent shockwaves through his bones.

The second came from the side, the third from behind.

He spun and countered, barely keeping up as the axes moved around him, attempting to find a weakness.

"They always get used to my power quickly," Vel'Merath called out, watching Menma struggle.

"That's why I use traps like these—to keep them guessing."

Menma growled and released more of his demon energy.

His power surged to 50%, enough to push the axes back with a single, brutal slash.

His sword blazed with black and red energy, cutting through the air like lightning.

The axes wobbled, shimmered, and began to disappear—phased out of existence by sheer force.

Menma exhaled sharply, sweat dripping down his brow. "What moon is coming next?" he muttered to himself.

He didn't have to wait long.

Rain began to fall, fast and piercing—each droplet razor-sharp. It wasn't real rain. It was the half moon's power.

He barely dodged in time, rolling out of the way as one of the drops sliced through the earth where he had stood.

"Ahh, I almost got you," Vel'Merath said with a sly grin, his voice light but full of menace.

The moon above shifted again, this time moving close to Vel'Merath like a loyal guardian.

It shimmered and then changed, morphing into the full moon.

Vel'Merath lifted his hand and pushed it toward Menma.

Menma's instincts screamed again. He knew he couldn't let that moon get too close—but he didn't know what it would do.

His feet moved, preparing to dodge, but he was already caught.

A sudden pull.

An invisible force yanked him off his feet. The full moon's gravity had locked onto him, dragging him in like a star pulling in a meteor.

Before he could react, he was shot sky-high, rocketing into the air at terrifying speed.

"What the hell?!" Menma gasped as the wind tore past him. The battlefield became a blur beneath him.

Vel'Merath's laughter echoed up toward the heavens. "It always gets them! That face—priceless!"

Menma twisted in mid-air, regaining control, and began his descent. "That power… that gravity—it's not normal."

He hit the ground with a roll, scattering debris in every direction.

He coughed, forced himself up, and turned his gaze back toward Vel'Merath.

He wouldn't fall for that trick again.

This time, he shot forward, aiming straight at Vel'Merath with renewed fury.

But the full moon reappeared, materializing like a barrier between them.

"Damn it," Menma cursed and veered off, choosing instead to land at a safer distance.

He knew he needed more power.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he began to draw deeper from within.

55%.

56%.

57%.

58%.

59%.

60%.

His veins glowed. Shadows curled around him like flames.

The maximum he could reach without losing control—any further and the demon would take over.

He could feel it, scratching at the edges of his mind, begging to be released.

But Menma forced it down. He couldn't lose himself—not now.

The moon appeared again, directly before his eyes, taunting him with its unrelenting power.

He didn't back down.

In a blur, he vanished and reappeared behind Vel'Merath, saying, "While this is deadly… it can't protect you like the shield did."

Then, with perfect timing, he hurled a damage potion.

It landed on Vel'Merath, splashing across his body and hissing with energy.

Vel'Merath staggered, caught off guard by the potion's corrosive effect.

But the full moon's gravity didn't discriminate.

It yanked Menma down once again—this time slamming him to the ground like a meteor.

The battlefield trembled as the two warriors struggled—Menma, crushed by the moon's gravity;

Vel'Merath, reeling from the effects of the damage potion.

Both locked in pain. Neither willing to surrender.

And yet… the fight was far from over.