Chapter 6: Light and Darkness (2)

Part 2

Eliza approached Seiryu, a frown creasing her brow.

Her fangs barely peeked from between her lips, and for the first time in centuries, her eyes weren't glowing with arrogance but with doubt.

"Do you think Lord Yamato is all right?" she asked quietly. "It's been too long in there…"

Seiryu didn't hesitate. His voice was calm but firm—like a stone in the middle of a storm.

"We must trust our master. Whatever awaits him on the other side… if he couldn't face it, none of us could."

"You're right. We've seen him stop in rooms where others would charge ahead. I don't fully understand how he does it… but he always seems to see more than he lets on."

"Exactly. His greatest strength is that mind of his.

He analyzes impossible scenarios with a level of detachment few can maintain."

"It's true… In all my years, I've never met a human like him. Not even all that power has corrupted him. That alone… deserves respect."

"I know. I just hope that won't change once he returns to the surface."

Silence once again enveloped the threshold of Floor 500.

The Heralds said nothing more.

But the air remained dense… and time, ever slower.

Inside the chamber, Yamato sat motionless.

Positioned before the dome of light,

his gaze wasn't fixed on the crystal—

but on the data projected by his swarm.

Screens hovered around him, filled with layered information. Heroic abilities, Void command trees, nanobot structural matrices, entangled mana flows, ancient code sequences.

He wasn't looking for a crack.

He was looking for a formula.

Because even now, with all his power,

he knew breaking the seal wasn't enough.

He had to understand it.

That's when he spoke not to the world, but to himself…

"Lucky me… to have met you, mysterious nun."

His tone wasn't ironic or sarcastic.

It was recognition.

"Now I understand the convergence between light… and darkness."

He looked at the crystal again, not as a barrier, but as a lesson carved in divine light.

"To think I actually doubted myself for a moment… If this had happened during my fight with the false heroes… who knows how it would've ended."

He went quiet for a few seconds.

The swarm rotated slowly around him as if it, too, was waiting for the next conclusion.

"Now Nebel's words make more sense," he murmured. "I still have much to learn."

A violet circle began to form beneath his feet.

Finally, the nanobots responded, assembling with pinpoint accuracy, each piece constructed like a steel symphony.

Gradually, an imposing structure rose.

A pulse cannon in the shape of a turbine, anchored to the floor by four support arms that slammed into the stone with a thunderous thud.

Yamato stepped to the core of the weapon, tracing dark runes across its surface.

He didn't move in haste. Or in rage.

Each symbol was an instruction.

A directive.

A correction of his earlier mistake.

"My mistake was trying to break the barrier… when the correct answer was much simpler."

He placed his hand on the core, infusing it with void energy.

"Antimatter Cannon."

The turbines began to spin with a low roar.

Bolts of energy cracked between the cannon and the floor, like a massive Tesla coil.

The chamber thrummed with rising tension… but Yamato didn't flinch.

"Anima Zero," he said quietly, pulling the trigger.

A sphere emerged from the cannon, moving in a perfect line, floating with an unnatural elegance.

It didn't roar.

It didn't burn.

And as it reached the barrier… there was no explosion.

It was as if the light had never existed.

It was simply devoured, annihilated in a fraction of a second.

There was no sound.

No shockwave.

The chamber was left in such pure silence it felt unnatural as if the world itself held its breath,

unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Yamato approached the space where the barrier had once stood, his footsteps steady.

His swarm floated around him without needing orders, scanning the ancient symbols etched into the stone with precise, reverent movements.

The particles began drawing lines, scanning patterns, analyzing magical residue with ritualistic precision.

A notification flashed within his mental interface:

Scan complete.

Runic patterns added to control archive.

He raised his hand, and the nanobots—now reprogrammed with the learned configuration—dispersed gracefully, replicating the same process on each of the remaining barriers.

They disintegrated one by one.

No explosions.

No flares.

They simply faded—like candles snuffed out by an invisible breeze.

At last, he reached the center of the chamber.

Before him floated a prison of pure light a translucent crystal, softly curved, pulsing from within like a trapped heart.

And inside that crystal, kneeling in prayer, hands crossed and head bowed… was her.

A young woman clad in white robes trimmed with gold, suspended in stillness. The fabric looked untouched by time, as if woven by divine hands.

Her expression was serene—almost sacred.

Silver hair fell over her shoulders like a ghostly veil.

To the eye, she seemed asleep.

Untouchable.

Unreachable.

Yamato observed her in silence.

Not as an enemy.

Not as an ally.

But as someone solving an equation he had been waiting his whole life to understand.

He reached out not with force, but as if trying to reach her.

To his surprise, the prison cracked at his touch.

No sound.

No resistance.

The crystal shattered into fragments of light, drifting like sacred dust before fading from existence.

The girl descended gently, her body floating with grace until her feet touched the floor.

When she opened her eyes, she did not flinch.

Instead, she asked in a voice soft and pure:

"You… what is your name?"

"Yamato," he answered, tone unchanged. "And yours?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if analyzing him.

"Interesting…" she murmured, her feet now grounded for the first time in what felt like eternity.

"My name is Lina, 'Executor of the Light,'" she announced solemnly, placing a hand over her chest. "My mission is to bring justice to every corner of this lawless world."

Yamato's mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile but something closer to recognition. Or irony.

"What a coincidence," he said, his voice calm as the Void surrounding him. "I also intend to bring justice… to every corner."

"I see…" Lina responded, summoning a blade of radiant light with a graceful motion.

The weapon glowed with holy intensity its very presence radiating divine pressure. This wasn't just a sword it was a symbol of judgment.

"I can't see your aura," she continued, narrowing her eyes. "I know you're hiding it… but it won't help you. This is your judgment. And nothing stays hidden from the Light."

"I figured as much," Yamato replied, smoothly summoning his scythe.

Lina hesitated for a split second. She recognized that weapon or at least something in its essence.

But she didn't let it show.

Too many years had passed.

Her mind was a sacred library of forgotten names.

And yet…

The man before her wasn't just any mortal.

She felt it.

She knew it.

There were no more words.

Lina launched forward.

Each step a verdict.

Each motion a prayer wrapped in steel.

Her blade of light clashed with Yamato's Void-forged scythe and the impact ignited a storm of sparks, flickers of opposite forces lighting the chamber in bursts of brilliance and shadow.

Yamato stepped back not from weakness, but to analyze.

"Such strength," Yamato thought, watching the unwavering nun unleash strike after strike without pause, without hesitation.

Her technique was precise.

Pure.

Driven by neither hatred nor rage.

Only conviction.

It was like fighting a doctrine.

Yamato blocked the next blow with the curved edge of his scythe.

The blade of light and the weapon of Void pressed against each other—neither breaking—

as if the world itself refused to decide which of them was right.

"You're not fighting out of hatred," he said, analyzing the pattern of her offense. "Only conviction. That makes you dangerous."

Lina didn't answer. Her eyes were cold beacons not emotionless, but detached.

She saw him… without wanting to see him.

"Your existence contradicts the divine flow," she said at last, her voice calm. "Your presence disrupts the laws of this realm."

"And the laws of this realm condemned me without even trying to understand," Yamato replied, his voice low.

He spun on his heel. The scythe arced elegantly, deflecting a lateral slash. He countered instantly with a sweeping strike, which Lina dodged by mere inches.

"You're methodical. Precise," she murmured, readjusting her stance. "You don't fight for rage… or glory. Then tell me… what is your sin?"

"Being too logical… in a world that worships blind faith."

"They judged me without reason—without even giving me a chance. Now it's my turn to judge them. And I swear anyone who stands in my way will pay dearly."

They clashed again.

Light against Void.

Faith against Reason.

Neither yielded.

Neither faltered.

For Yamato, she was an obstacle he had to understand before he could overcome it.

For Lina, he was an anomaly that must be judged without mercy.

And for the first time...

They both faced someone who not only resisted them but forced them to rethink their truth.