Vescrutia: Legacy

A beam of iridescent, drilling force erupted from the vortex of the strike. ..It didn't just travel toward G'hor; it erased the distance between them as if the space in between had never existed, as though the universe itself decided that the Mazoku's existence and Kin's attack should occupy the same moment in time..

The attack carried the compartmentalized weight of G'hor's own power, multiplied by the soul-eating hunger of the Void Pyre and the kinetic snap of the universe itself returning to its natural state. It was betrayal weaponized, art perverted into annihilation...

..and as the spiraling beam of Judgment converged on the Mazoku, Kin opened his eyes. The cyan and fuchsia light reflected in his violet pupils—a cold, ancient gaze witnessing the exact moment a legend met its match. Should the blow land, G'hor would find that even his mighty physical form would be decimated from the chest down...

The spiraling beam of Judgment descended upon G’hor like a celestial spear cast from the hand of a wrathful god, erasing the distance between predator and prey in a single impossible instant. The atmosphere shrieked around the blistering vortex of Kin's abyssal strike, roaring with the concentrated force of G’hor’s own power turned against him.

Yet even then—G’hor stood firm.

Not because he lacked the speed to evade.. Though truthfully, even the mighty Executioner barely had enough time to comprehend the horror racing toward him before it arrived.

No, G'hor remained where he stood because to retreat from an enemy’s attack would have been an admission of weakness.. And Mazoku did not yield ground before lesser beings.

Instinct alone drove his massive arms upward moments before the arcane strike collided against him. And the world buckled beneath the apocalyptic force of impact.

A colossal pillar of cyan, fuchsia, and abyssal black erupted across the battlefield as shockwaves tore over the continent in oscillating rings of annihilation. Mountains were torn apart beneath the pressure while the heavens overhead were peeled open in spiraling layers, exposing glimpses of the dark void lurking beyond the atmosphere itself.

All of Qiyoto vanished beneath the radiance.. And all the while, G’hor suffered at the epicenter of the hellish light show.

The beam drove him downward with enough force to rupture the crust beneath the city before hurling his colossal frame violently across the ruined districts. His body skidded along its back through shattered towers and collapsing streets, carving an enormous blood streaked canyon through the remains of Qiyoto while molten debris erupted skyward in his wake.

Then—Silence.

Nothing but smoke and ash rose from the ruined trench where G’hor finally came to a halt. The Executioner’s armor had been almost entirely obliterated. Ancient plates once forged to withstand cataclysmic impacts now hung melted and ruined from his frame like smoldering slag. One of his massive arms had been pierced clean through, exposing shattered bone and torn sinew beneath ruined flesh.

Entire portions of his torso had been blasted away altogether, revealing mangled organs and steaming musculature beneath layers of charred fur.

Hardly a groan escaped his muzzle.. but still, he didn't move. His injuries were.. significant. Any other creature that chose to challenge Kinslayer's unmitigated wrath would have been reduced to vapor. And yet, as he remained still— his body fluctuating with residual bolts of dark energy from the Void Pyre, Ghor's flesh began to move on its own.

Muscle fibers slowly began reconnecting strand by strand beneath the open wounds. Fractured bone regenerated with violent audible cracks while rivers of naten surged upward directly from the ashened soil beneath his feet and through his veins like molten steel.

Through Shinjutsu, the planet itself nourished and restored his monstrous physiology at a truly terrifying speed.

And then, G’hor stood..

Slowly and calmly, as though the devastation inflicted upon his body had merely been an inconvenience. But even still… the metaphysical scars he endured couldnt be ignored.

Kinslayer’s attack had not merely wounded flesh. It had carved into the Mazoku’s spirit itself.

And for the first time since arriving upon Edo, Rao's lips curled into a smile. It was faint. Subtle smirk, but his amusement was unmistakable.

"Unprecedented…” Rao murmured, his deep voice reverberating through the shattered skyline like distant thunder. To wound a Mazoku Executioner to such a degree—even accounting for their regenerative capabilities—was a feat so absurd entire civilizations would immortalize it in scripture.

But Kinslayer had accomplished something even greater than physical injury. Rao could sense the scars left upon G’hor’s spiritual body. The invisible lacerations still festering beneath the surface of his soul. It was enough to force the mighty titan of war into a defensive, almost vulnerable position.

A feat that earned recognition from both of these foreign juggernauts.. whether their mouths confessed it or not.

Far across the ruined battlefield, G’hor rolled his shoulder once as the last of his wounds sealed shut beneath regenerated flesh. Dark currents of power still curled from his body in thick bolts while remnants of ruined armor fell from his frame in burning fragments.

Then, slowly, his freshly massive hand rose toward the metallic muzzle covering his maw.

Immediately, Rao’s expression shifted.

“Oh…” he muttered beneath his breath as his smile widened into something restrained and wicked. "..so you have decided."

Rao understood the meaning instantly.

Once he removed his restraints, Ghor's muzzle fell away from his face with a heavy metallic clang that echoed across the broken remains of Qiyoto. And revealed beneath it rows upon rows of monstrous fangs lining a maw seemingly built not for speech, but slaughter and destruction. The very air around G’hor’s grizzled jaw distorted faintly, as though reality itself anticipated what was coming next..

The Primordial Roar.

The Mazoku’s greatest weapon.

A force so devastating that its invocation rendered conventional combat meaningless. A single scream possessed enough destructive force to reduce cities to ash, rupture souls from bodies, and transform entire regions into spiritual wastelands..

But among the Mazoku—To invoke it in single combat carried far deeper meaning than devastation alone.

It was.. symbolic. An act of acknowledgement and recognition.

G’hor hailed Kinslayer as a foe worthy of nothing short of his absolute, full strength.

Rao’s golden eyes narrowed with visible intrigue. “…At last,” he said slowly, his voice tinged with something dangerously close to admiration. “A worthy opponent.”

The pressure around Rao thickened as his gaze remained fixed upon Kin across the devastated battlefield.

“You should feel honored, outsider,” Rao declared. “Your strength will be immortalized in B’halian scripture.”

Rao’s eyes narrowed with visible intrigue, and a faint grin spread across his face. “As will your death.”

However, just as Rao's fixation upon the unfolding confrontation began to peak, something else began clawing at his senses— a violent spike of naten that erupted across the horizon.

Rao’s gaze begrudgingly shifted at last toward the distant ruins where he had discarded Hiroshi Yaarou moments earlier. And a flicker of confusion spread across his expression.

Impossible.

He had killed the human.. The wet streaks of crimson stained along his knuckles gave proof to the fact. Yet the energy rising from the city below continued multiplying at an exponential rate.. mocking him further and further.

Then, as Rao focused more carefully upon the source of this violent gesyer of power— a faint crimson glyph silently manifested across the center of his forehead. It settled into his flesh without resistance and entirely beyond his knowledge, but it was at that moment that his gaze finally caught him.

Hiroshi Yaarou was alive and well, and the Mazoku's expression darkened immediately. "Incessant creature."

He exhaled slowly through his nose before flexing one of his massive hands into a fist. A benign gesture that seemed to affect the atmosphere around him, as if it were threatening to collapse inward from the sheer pressure of his intent alone

“You will learn your place,” Rao said quietly before he launched forward at miraculous speeds— slicing through the heavens themselves as he tore toward Hiroshi’s position like a living comet of murderous intent.

And this time, his strike would not be casual. His fist not curbed by boredom or mercy.. This time, Rao intended to rip the sorcerer’s head from his shoulders, and crush whatever remained within his fist.