The crater still smoked and the echoes of the previous slash thundered through the nearby valleys. Jiro floated holding the spear, the Higetsu no Yari shining with an intensity never seen before. The power flowing through his body felt unstable, like an overflowing river.
—Ouch, sorry— he exclaimed as an involuntary diagonal cut sliced through a nearby mountain, creating a crack that extended hundreds of meters, toppling rocks and trees.
He looked at the spear, nervous but excited —I just... don't control this power well yet! Everything is happening too fast...
The crimson energy danced around his body, enveloping him like a sacred fire. His eyes gleamed like glowing embers, and his horns shone like rubies under the sun. The mark of his Oni heritage pulsed with power.
—You damned brat— roared the masked spirit, blood dripping down his face, now without a mask. His expression was a mix of fury, desperation, and fear —How could you have gotten so strong in so little time?!
The air grew denser. The sky roared... with purple fireballs, each charged with a dark intensity that burned the very air. He hurled them furiously, one after another, creating a blazing storm that seemed impossible to stop.
—DIEEEE! —the spirit shouted, unleashing a final blast that formed a huge fiery sphere spinning with spectral power.
But Jiro, with the crimson spear in his hands, didn't retreat a single step in the air.
—I'm not going to die here— he shouted, and with a swift spin of his body, the Higetsu no Yari cut through the sky. A vertical slash of crimson energy divided the purple fire, dispersing it like smoke, breaking it into burning particles.
Every time the spirit launched a fireball, Jiro cut it with ease, his movements now firmer, more natural. The spear seemed to guide his arm, as if it knew the rhythm of the battle much better than he did.
And then, the two moved as one.
The sky was torn by a horizontal slash. Jiro spun on himself, leaving a trail of red light around him. The spirit barely managed to dodge, but the wave of the cut tore part of his clothing and burned his left arm.
—GRAGHHHH! —he roared in pain.
Jiro vanished in a crimson flash and reappeared behind, spinning the spear above his head.
Hundreds of spear strikes wrapped in red fire rained down on the masked spirit, each with the force of a meteor. The spirit barely managed to block or dodge as the sky turned red and the distant trees were swept away by the pressure.
The air vibrated.
The earth trembled.
And Jiro, with a fierce smile and eyes full of still-dry tears, fought not only to survive, but to honor his father, his mother, and himself.
—This is my will— shouted Jiro —I won't lose now!
The spear in Jiro's hands trembled. Not from fear… but from the pressure of a power beyond the earthly. His wounded body and spirit consumed by rage did not seek revenge, but justice. Before him, the spirit retreated, panting, floating in its blurry form, no longer carrying the previous arrogance.
—That energy… that burning red glow… even the Crimson power can use it...? —the specter whispered with a shiver—. Who the hell is this brat...?
An emerald green flash burst from the spirit's chest. Its trembling hand raised a talisman loom, with an ancient stone that began to pulse with a living beat, as if it knew its master was in danger. A sharp sound cut the air as the talisman opened like a twisted flower of energy, tearing space with a dimensional rift spinning like a hungry spiral.
—I'm getting out of here! —the spirit shouted, terrified—. This can't end like this… I'll let the Spirit Lord know… right now!
But then, a stronger, burning, and unwavering voice thundered:
—NO! —Jiro roared, his eyes burning deep red—. I won't let you leave here… without paying for what you've done!
The ground cracked beneath his feet. The veins of the earth lit up crimson. And then the spear… grew.
It was no ordinary spear. It was an extension of the soul itself. In the blink of an eye, the weapon stretched as if it wanted to touch the heavens. It was enormous, immeasurable, as if the will of a god had incarnated. Its blade seemed to pierce the horizon.
From the village, people looked up. Some screamed. Others fell to their knees. The mountains trembled. The clouds parted.
—What is that thing...? —they shouted in confusion and awe.
On a nearby hill, Shinji stopped as he recognized the figure wielding that infinite spear.
—Is that… Jiro!? —he said breathlessly—. What is he doing there… with Crimson power?
And then, without delay, Jiro raised the spear, and with a scream that split the sky, unleashed a colossal slash. A cut of crimson light, immense like the sea and swift as a falling lightning bolt, descended upon the spirit with a force that seemed to condemn the world.
—NOOOO! —the specter screamed as it extended its hand, launching a wave of energy into the open rift—. SPIRIT LORD! LISTEN TO ME…!
But the slash fell. And with it, the world seemed to shake.
An explosion of mana, fire, and Crimson energy rocked the skies. The talisman loom shattered into fragments of green light, flashing like broken crystals before vanishing into nothingness.
The rift closed.
Everything fell silent.
Jiro floated in the air, panting, his body trembling and the spear shrinking little by little until it dissolved into light. His crimson armor also began to break apart, as if it could no longer hold.
—Finally… it's over —he whispered between heavy breaths.
And then, everything blurred. The lights, the colors, the sounds. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a figure approaching through the mist… an indistinguishable silhouette, calm… almost familiar.
…
The sun gently pierced the window.
Jiro opened his eyes with difficulty, his breathing still heavy. He was in his bed. His room. A safe, quiet place… but his mind was a whirlwind.
—Where am I…? —he murmured—. What… happened…?
Suddenly, he remembered.
—Rayjou! —he exclaimed, sitting up quickly.
He hurried down the stairs. There, in the living room, Shinji and his grandfather waited, sitting in front of the spear now at rest. The air was charged with more than silence: it was judgment, concern… and respect.
The old man looked at Jiro with hard eyes, crossing his arms slowly.
—We need to talk seriously, Jiro… —he said—. And I want you to explain this to me.
Shinji intervened, with a much softer tone:
—Don't worry about Rayjou Tamashi… he's fine. His wounds… disappeared. As if he had never been harmed. You healed him, Jiro.
The grandfather repeated, with a grave voice that left no room for evasion:
—So… what exactly are you?
Jiro lowered his gaze. His hands trembled.
—I can explain… —he whispered, his heart pounding.
…
Far from there, on the devastated hill where it all happened, stones floated in the air. Space seemed distorted. From among the remains, a spectral murmur broke the silence.
—That brat… will pay for this…
Jin, the defeated spirit, dragged what was left of his ethereal form. His body was in tatters, half of his essence scattered. Yet, his eyes shone with rage.
—I, Jin, servant of the Spirit Lord… will end him… —he said with a trembling voice.
He approached what was left of the Shiketsu, the fractured mystical structure… and fused with it. A dark energy ran through the cracks.
—In three days… —he whispered with fury—. In three days… I will finish off the bearer of the spear…
Reality itself wavered. A slight, almost imperceptible fracture appeared in the sky… as if the world had felt the threat.
And silence returned.
For now.