Omniscient POV
Cafayate, Argentina
The streets of Cafayate bustled around them, oblivious to the clash about to unfold. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with gasoline, and car horns blared in the distance. But for the two exorcists standing in the middle of the street, the world had shrunk to just them and their weapons.
The tension in the air was palpable as Masaomi and Max faced each other, their Light Swords and Light Guns gleaming with holy energy.
The weapons were the enhanced versions made by Akatsuki. They had higher durability and power. Even humans with a tiny bit of the Holy Element could use them freely.
The once peaceful street now felt like a battlefield, the ground beneath them trembling with the weight of their power—the two exorcists, once comrades, now stood on opposite sides of a moral divide.
Masaomi's fingers tightened around his Light Sword, the golden blade humming radiantly. Across from him, Max mirrored the action, his own sword crackling with power. Their gazes locked—one calm and resolute, the other burning with frustration.
"Don't make me do this, Max," Masaomi warned, his voice steady.
"You already did, Masaomi," Max shot back with a radical look, his grip tightening. "I can't let Asia remain under Akatsuki's influence. That Evil Dragon is corrupting her!"
Max wasted no time. With a roar, he drew his Light Sword, its blade glowing with a fierce golden light. He lunged at Masaomi, his movements swift and precise.
But Masaomi was ready. He sidestepped the attack, his own Light Sword flashing into his hand. The clash of their blades sent sparks flying, the sheer force of their collision cracking the pavement beneath their feet.
"You're making a mistake, Max!" Masaomi shouted, his voice strained as he parried another strike. "This isn't the way!"
"The mistake is yours, Masaomi!" Max retorted, his eyes blazing with determination. "She belongs with the Church! Her power is a gift from God, and it's our duty to ensure it's used for His glory!"
Masaomi exhaled sharply. "And what if she isn't under anyone's influence? What if she simply chose her own path?"
Max's jaw clenched. "Then she made the wrong choice."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Then—
Boom!
Max moved again. A golden flash erupted as he lunged, his blade slicing through the air like divine judgment. Masaomi sidestepped, the holy energy scorching past his cheek. Without hesitation, he countered, his sword whipping through the air to meet Max's in a blinding clash.
Sparks exploded.
Their blades collided again and again, sending out waves of light that cracked the pavement. The shockwaves shattered nearby windows, dust and debris swirling around them.
Bang!
Masaomi gritted his teeth, pushing Max back with a powerful swing of his sword. The force of the blow sent Max skidding across the ground, his boots carving deep grooves into the asphalt. But Max wasn't deterred.
He switched tactics, drawing his Light Gun and firing a barrage of glowing bullets. Masaomi reacted instantly, twisting his blade mid-strike to deflect them.
Each ricochet sent streaks of golden energy into the sky, illuminating the darkened city. The surrounding buildings trembled, windows shattering from the shockwaves.
The fight escalated, their powers tearing through the environment. Masaomi's sword slashed through a lamppost, sending it crashing to the ground.
The ground beneath them trembled, chunks of asphalt lifting from the sheer force of their clash. Max retaliated with a powerful energy blast that lifted a section of the road, the asphalt crumbling like paper. The once-pristine street had become a war zone.
Masaomi leaped, flipping mid-air before bringing his sword down in a devastating arc.
BOOM!
Max blocked just in time, but the impact sent him skidding backward, boots scraping against the fractured pavement. His breathing was ragged, his hands trembling.
"You don't understand, Masaomi!" Max shouted. "If I can't wield a Holy Sword—if I can't serve as God's warrior—then what was all the suffering for?! What about my friends who died for this?! What about my sister?! She—"
Masaomi's eyes darkened. "Your sister?"
Max's grip on his sword tightened. "She's gone. The Church excommunicated her. Said she was 'unfit' for service. It was for the greater good. I couldn't find her, and I don't even know if she's alive. Even then, this is the only way for me to stay sane—doing what I was meant to do. The Lord won't abandon me twice!"
Just how many dark secrets did the Church have? How many children were sacrificed aside from the widely known Holy Sword Project? What were they doing behind closed doors?
Masaomi still didn't know everything, even though he had already glimpsed its darkest corners. These thoughts rushed through his mind, sadness and frustration welling up inside him.
A moment of silence. Then—Max surged forward.
But amidst the chaos, Masaomi noticed something—a bystander, a child, had wandered too close to the fight. She stood frozen in fear, her eyes wide with terror as a chunk of debris hurtled toward her. She was right in the direction of Max's attack.
"Move!" Masaomi shouted, his voice cutting through the noise of battle.
Max, too, saw the child. For a moment, his determination wavered.
His body locked up. His mind screamed at him to continue, but if he did—
The realization hit like a hammer.
His hands trembled. He hesitated, his sword lowering slightly as he grasped the danger.
BAM!
Masaomi seized the opportunity, leaping forward and deflecting the debris with a swift swing of his sword. The child stumbled back, unharmed but shaken.
Then he struck again. His sword slammed into Max's sword, disarming him in an instant. The weapon clattered to the ground, embedding itself deep into the side of a car.
The fight came to an abrupt halt.
Max stared at the child, his chest heaving. His hands trembled, not from fatigue, but from the realization of what had almost happened. He had been so consumed by his mission that he had nearly harmed an innocent.
The child's mother rushed in, grabbed her daughter, and ran. The moment passed. But the battle was over.
Masaomi exhaled, lowering his sword. "It's over, Max."
Max stared at his empty hands. "If I can't be a Holy Sword wielder, what's my purpose?"
Masaomi studied him, feeling a pang of sympathy. "That's something only you can find, Max."
Max let out a bitter laugh. "Easy for you to say. You're strong. You have purpose. But me? I gave everything for this, Masaomi. Everything... And now, I still have nothing."
Masaomi remained silent.
Max clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "This is my purpose. If I can't wield a Holy Sword, then what was it all for?! What about the friends I lost?! What about my sister?! The Church took her away. She's gone because of this. They act like she never even existed! So I can't let their sacrifices be in vain!"
Masaomi's jaw tightened. Another dark secret of the Church. How many more were there?
He understood Max's pain, but he also knew this path would only lead to more suffering.
"I get it, Max. I really do. But forcing Argento-san to join the Church isn't the answer. She has her own path, and we have to respect that."
Max's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him. "Then what am I supposed to do? If I can't fulfill my purpose, what's left for me?"
Masaomi placed a hand on Max's shoulder. "You can start by asking for forgiveness. Not just from Argento-san but from yourself. And if you want, I'll go with you tomorrow morning. We'll face this together."
Max just stared at him.
"Maybe… it's also time you start asking the right questions, Max," Masaomi said again.
Max looked at him, searching his face.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, finally, Max turned away.
He exhaled shakily, his resolve crumbling as tears welled up in his eyes. "You're right. Maybe I should. I... I need to make things right."
Masaomi gave him a small, reassuring smile. "We all make mistakes, Max. What matters is how we move forward."
Without another word, Max disappeared into the night.
Masaomi stood there for a long moment, watching him go. The cracked pavement and the shattered glass—testaments to their battle—were all that remained.
And in the distance, sirens wailed, drawing closer.
He sighed, sheathing his blade.
"Just another mess to clean up."