The Thieves of Death

  The ground split with the first step of the Kugutsu.

  Each impact of the monster reverberated in waves that cracked walls, shattered windows, and crushed the hope of Chagas’s few survivors. The city trembled, not just in fear, but from the presence of the impossible.

  Ezra swallowed hard.

  The stench of rot that once emanated from him now mixed with the miasma of Zeke’s Kugutsu—it was as if hell had opened a portal amid the ruins. The mouths scattered across the creature’s face whispered in dead tongues, invoking forgotten curses. The dozens of eyes stared at the Kanji with hunger.

  Zeke advanced, his red eyes burning like embers. His body vanished between strikes. A crisp thrust of the black spear cleaved the air and nearly pierced Ezra’s chest, who leapt at the last moment, using a broken pillar as a springboard. But the Kugutsu’s black shield followed like a living wall, crushing the very wall on which Ezra landed.

  Ezra rolled through the air, one mouth bleeding, and upon touching the ground, thrust out his hands, rotting the rubble instantly into smoke.

  “Your monster is big,” he grunted, “but let’s see if he’s fast enough!”

  With insane speed, Ezra reappeared behind Zeke and slammed a fist into his ribs. The sound of splitting bone echoed as Zeke flew across three houses, demolishing walls and blasting furniture into wooden splinters.

  But he rose. He spat blood, wiped his lips on the back of his hand.

  He smiled.

  “That was a caress compared to what the king will feel.”

  The Kugutsu roared in fury.

  One of its mouths unleashed a violent roar and its arms moved like deadly shadows. The black chain whipped out like a serpent and coiled around Ezra’s ankle. Before the Kanji could react, the scythe descended in an arc, slicing his shoulder and opening a grotesque wound.

  Ezra screamed—not in pain, but in ecstasy.

  “THIS! THIS! THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD BE!”

  Blood flowed and was absorbed by his own body. Tumors burst forth again, larger, pulsing like demonic hearts. Ezra stomped the ground, and the earth beneath him rotted in a ten?meter radius.

  The Kugutsu sank partially, its left leg dissolving at the touch. A mouth on the monster howled in agony, and Zeke staggered, feeling the spiritual bond vibrate. Ezra appeared beside him, smashing his fist into Zeke’s face with brutal force. Zeke’s jaw cracked, but he did not fall.

  On the contrary.

  He grabbed Ezra’s fist.

  “Now…it’s my turn to show you Rupture.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  A white?blue aura exploded around Zeke’s arm.

  Ezra tried to pull away, but it was too late. The technique was not in the sword as always; it was in Zeke’s hand. The strike detonated like a focused earthquake, a dimensional rupture, a punch capable of shattering rock.

  Ezra flew like a missile, crashing through two houses and landing in the street like a discarded corpse.

  Zeke fell to his knees, nose bleeding, eyes watering—Rupture had cost him dearly. Yet he laughed.

  “You rot everything you touch…but what if I am the rot?”

  Gotier appeared moments later. His entire body was a living blade, veins pulsing like metal wires. He was in a frenzy—the image of his wife and daughter burning in his memory like coals.

  “Ezra…your name dies here.”

  He charged.

  Each step carved the air. His right leg extended in a spinning arc, slicing through a nearby wall as if it were butter. Ezra, still rising, barely had time to dodge. Gotier appeared above him, body spinning like a whirlwind of blades, dagger driven into his forearm.

  Ezra screamed, and Zeke’s Kugutsu seized the moment—thrusting the black spear into Ezra’s thigh, pinning him to the ground.

  The Kanji was wounded. Exhausted. Yet he still smiled.

  “I’ve killed better than you…” he spat blood. “But I admit…you’re beautiful when you bleed.”

  Zeke stepped forward. His face covered in sweat and blood, eyes blazing like fires.

  “You said killing Gotier’s family was better than sex for the king?”

  “Now… I’ll make you orgasm in pain.”

  Zeke raised his sword.

  But before delivering the final blow, he glanced at Gotier, then at the Kugutsu behind him—still oozing tumors.

  And he shouted:

  “I AM OF THE FUBA CLAN!!!”

  Ezra, still pinned by the Kugutsu’s black spear, tried to smile.

  But the smile wavered. Blood dripped from his teeth like corrupted wine.

  “No matter what you do…the king will… ” he coughed a thick clot “… swallow you as he did them all.”

  Zeke closed in, breathing like a beast about to devour. His Kugutsu stalked behind, the monster’s steps sinking into the charred earth. The creature’s mouths opened and closed as if salivating.

  Gotier intercepted him.

  “This end is mine.”

  Zeke paused. His eyes met Gotier’s. There stood not the brutal killer the king made…but the father. The broken man.

  Zeke nodded silently.

  Gotier walked slowly to Ezra, his feet scraping the ground leaving metallic trails. Each step made his body vibrate, his hands shook not with fear, but tension. The dagger in his right hand seemed alive—pulsing with his hatred.

  He stopped a few inches from the Kanji. Looked down.

  “You…killed my daughter.”

  Ezra only smiled, spitting more blood onto the ground, eyes defiant.

  “You…raped my wife.”

  “You…served the king like a dog, licking the blood of innocents.”

  Gotier bowed his head. When he raised it, tears ran down his face. Yet his mouth smiled.

  “Now…you will serve as a warning.”

  In a single motion—too fast for ordinary eyes—Gotier drove the dagger into Ezra’s jaw and pushed upward—splitting his face in two, peeling it open like a ripe fruit. Ezra’s scream echoed like a demon dying.

  But it was not the end.

  Zeke’s Kugutsu advanced.

  One of its mouths roared, and chains coiled around Ezra’s arms, suspending him like a crucifixion. The other weapons gleamed—the black sword, the scythe, the spear… all aimed.

  Zeke raised his hand. His arm trembled. Rupture coursed through his veins.

  “For all the dead of the Fuba clan… for every sacrificed child…”

  “For my island… for my soul.”

  Then he brought his arm down.

  The Kugutsu struck with every weapon at once.

  Ezra was torn apart.

  Not killed.

  RENDERED.

  His body was shredded into dozens of pieces in milliseconds. Some parts fused with the chains; others evaporated under the power of the final Rupture. His last sounds were nothing but noise—no meaning. Just the end.

  When it was over…only a crater remained. Boiling blood. Putrid smoke spiraling into the air.

  Zeke fell to his knees.

  Gotier stood, panting, dagger still trembling in his hand.

  Zeke’s Kugutsu retreated, its mouths whispering in agony—as if it had tasted a piece of hell.

  Silence fell over the ruined city.

  But before the chapter closed, Gotier looked up at the sky snowing blades, the Golden Tree’s light still lingering on the horizon.

  And whispered:

  “The king remains…”

  Zeke, though near collapse, chuckled softly.

  “And I haven’t even shown him my true hell yet.”