"Kerry.... Kerry.... Kerry."
The faint sound, a gentle whisper of a name, echoed in the ruin of his mind. Renji lay bleeding on the shattered ground, the Demon King Oni standing over him, sword raised to deliver the killing stroke.
His vision was shattered, reduced to blurry shapes and smeared colors. But through the haze of pain, he saw a flickering image: a woman, standing before him, extending her hand. Tears streamed down her face.
"Mom..." Renji gasped, the sound a ragged wheeze.
"Stand up, son," the voice echoed, stronger now. "You are not going to die now. You have a responsibility to fulfill. The world needs you."
A tremor ran through Renji's body, a subtle shift that caught Oni's attention.
"How dare you move," Oni muttered, confusion momentarily replacing his triumph as he adjusted his hellfire sword for the fatal plunge.
"Wake up, Kerry. You are the true king. Fight for your world. Stand up!"
Renji felt an agonizing surge of power. He gritted his teeth until he tasted blood, and then, with a yell born of pure, desperate will, he forced his body upright.
"I am not watching you destroy my world!"
He threw his crossed forearms up, blocking the Demon King's descending sword.
The impact was a cataclysmic event. A destructive wave of raw energy exploded outward, tearing across the battleground and kicking up dust and debris that momentarily swallowed the scene.
The main battle had already dissolved into pockets of desperate survival. Renji's eight Shadow Soldiers had performed a terrifying massacre, cutting the thousands-strong demon army down to mere dozens. But the human forces, the Special Hunter Squads and the few surviving Obsidian Warriors were equally depleted, their bodies broken, fighting on sheer instinct.
Renji didn't wait. He used the moment of impact to propel himself backward, summoning twin blades: his Necromancer sword, dark and edged with shadow, and a blade of pulsing green Void energy. He needed to end this.
Oni charged, a whirlwind of furious strikes. "I will make your death slow and painful, mortal!"
The fight became a blur of high-level techniques. Renji fought with desperate fluidity, weaving his two disciplines. He would slash with the Necromancer sword, leaving trailing shadows to slow the Oni, then immediately follow up with focused bursts of the Void blade, aiming for structural damage.
Clang! Crash! Whoosh!
The Demon King was a flawless weapon of destruction. Every one of his punches landed like a warhammer, crushing air and bone. He favored brutal physical strikes, knowing Renji's defenses were already compromised.
Renji absorbed blow after blow. He was fighting smarter, not stronger. He conjured Necrotic Shackles—shadows erupting from the ground to briefly bind Oni's ankles, buying time to launch a rapid sequence of Void-enhanced kicks. The energy strikes burned holes in the Oni's exposed muscle, making the Demon King snarl in genuine pain.
'This mortal… he is still just a man! Why does he keep finding new power? He has the scent of the Abyss, but I am the King of the Pit! I will not be denied by this flickering candle!'
The Oni's retaliation was swift and savage. He sidestepped a wide arc of the Necromancer blade and countered with a strike that wasn't a punch, but a pressurized wave of power. Renji was struck in the chest, the agonizing pressure collapsing his ribs.
He staggered, dropping his Necromancer sword. Before he could recover, Oni grabbed Renji's extended left arm.
"You have lost your use!"
With a sickening snap, Oni tore Renji's left arm completely from its socket and threw it aside.
Renji screamed, the raw pain momentarily overwhelming the Void energy that usually dampened his senses. His clothes were shredded rags, his torso covered in deep lacerations and dark bruises. He knelt, bowing under the agony, but he kept his green Void blade clutched tightly in his remaining right hand.
'My arm… gone. Kael… gone. I have nothing left to lose. I have to finish this now. I won't give him a single second more on this world.'
Renji struggled back to his feet, fighting on sheer adrenaline and fury. He was slower, less precise, but the desperation in his one-armed strikes made him unpredictable. He managed to slash Oni's face, drawing the Demon King's blood, but the counter-strike sent him tumbling, leaving a trail of blood across the ground.
Renji didn't try to get up. He used his last reserves of mana to stabilize a portal just inches from the ground, a gateway not to Gehenna, but to a deeper, more primal place.
The Void.
He needed one final opening. Knowing his power was insufficient, he channeled every available drop of Void energy into his final, desperate gambit.
He lunged with his single arm, ramming the glowing green sword into the Demon King's exposed flank. Oni roared, attempting to shake him off, but Renji held fast, his eyes locked on the portal opening beneath them.
"Say hello to the Abyss, King," Renji whispered, his breath ragged.
He pulled himself and the Oni toward the dark, swirling entrance. As he fell, Renji activated his ultimate command, one that would consume both him and the Demon King, ensuring the invasion ended:
"Existence Termination: Null."
The power surged, a silent, ravenous force designed to bend everything, soul, matter, and energy into nothingness. Renji, the Demon King, and the surrounding earth were instantly swallowed by the swirling, black portal.
Above, the air grew still. The demonic wind ceased.
In the moments before the Void consumed them, Renji had unleashed one last surge of pure Necrotic Smoke, a toxic cloud that swept across the remaining demons on the battlefield. The remaining enemies withered instantly, their bodies dissolving into dust.
The final enemy was eliminated.
Suddenly, a strange ripple ran through the air. The eight Shadow Soldiers Renji had summoned stopped moving. One by one, they began to fade, their shadowy armor collapsing as their essence returned to the atmosphere.
"What's happening?" one of the exhausted Hunters shouted, looking at the dissolving forms.
The remaining Necromancer specialists in the Obsidian ranks watched, horror dawning in their eyes.
"The King... he's gone," one whispered, the truth unmistakable. "Their source is gone."
All faces fell into terrible grief.
A figure limped through the chaotic ruins: Kaelith, bandaged and barely able to stand without his crutches. He surveyed the quiet, blood-soaked devastation, tears stuck beneath his eyes.
"I will miss you, son," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I will make sure to continue your responsibility."
The sound of approaching sirens—helicopters and ambulances finally cut through the silence, arriving to tend to the severely injured Hunters and soldiers. The ground was littered with the dead, the battle won at the ultimate price.
The world was safe now.
Far away, in a dimly lit hall filled with ancient herbs and strange rituals, an old man, perhaps ninety years of age, smiled, his eyes twinkling.
"The Mortal King is still alive. Hahahaha," he whispered to himself. "He is still alive."