Nymrathis Gourvalis smiled, a chill crescent in the pale light.
Izumi turned around, gasping shallowly, his face — for the first time — breaking into terror.
"No. I'm done," Izumi thought, his body trembling.
"I can't do anything."
Nymrathis began walking toward him, shards of ice swirling over his shoulder like spears.
Izumi couldn't catch his breath. His legs didn't seem to move.
His mind screamed at him to stop.
And just when he was about to topple over—
Flashback.
A memory sprang to life — warm and rich.
His grandfather knelt beside the messy-haired young Izumi, mussing his hair with a smile.
"When you feel like giving up," his grandfather taught, voice firm and soft, "keep this in mind — a sinner who fights for the good is better than a sinner who fights for evil."
Izumi looked up at him, wide-eyed.
His grandfather's hand on his shoulder tightened as he continued, in a voice that was an uncommon seriousness:
"And I always assume you will be on the good side, Izumi."
Back to the present.
The words cut sharply into Izumi's heart like cold iron stakes.
His breathing stabilized. His fingers clenched into a fist.
He bent down, picking up the battered sword Miharu had left behind.
His eyes became sharp. His fear congealed into hard resolve.
Without hesitation, he lunged at Nymrathis — blade aimed right for his neck.
Nymrathis didn't move, almost like he was inviting him to do it.
—Clang!
The blade struck his skin — and shattered instantly, like glass against stone.
Only a shallow scratch appeared across Nymrathis's neck.
Before Izumi could react, the ice shards above Nymrathis's shoulder flared forward — one of them penetrating brutally into Izumi's chest, where his Soul Conduit was located, the source of life.
Energy drained from him like water through cracked stone.
Izumi stumbled, gasping.
Still — stubborn, desperate — he swung a punch.
Another sickening crack.
Pain shot through his fingers. Blood dripped from his lips as he bit back a scream.
Nymrathis summoned another shard, forming a spear of frozen death —
He thrusted it towards Izumi's heart—
Clang!
A sudden force intercepted it.
Old Man Hiro, no, Ichiro — stood before him, smiling faintly, wind dancing at his heels.
"Heh. Looks like you're lucky, kid," Ichiro said calmly, not even glancing back.
"Miharu came running, shouting that a Monarch of Sin was here."
Nymrathis's face twisted into disgust.
"Who the hell are you?"
Without a word, Nymrathis unleashed another volley of ice shards —
but Ichiro moved, light and sure, deflecting them with effortless grace.
Nymrathis grew more furious.
He lunged again —
—but Ichiro whispered something.
—Gale force.
A sharp gust of wind blasted Nymrathis back.
The Monarch coughed, wiped his mouth, and glared murderously.
"Huh," he grunted. "You're not as weak as that wretched brat."
Ichiro's gentle eyes, usually soft, turned into blades.
"Don't bring him into this," he said calmly. "This fight's between you and me, isn't it?"
The air was tight — the foretelling of a storm brewing.
And Izumi, battered but still standing, looked with a spark of fire still in his eyes.