Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 460: The Sword of Damocles (20)

Dragon Raja 3

This was the ultimate showdown between the supreme emperor and the most malevolent demon, where the overwhelming advantages of super Hybrids were displayed in full view of the world. No one could track them with their eyes. In their high-speed movements, both turned into mere shadows, but every flash of their blades was like the glow of stars and moonlight, illuminating everyone’s sight. Each clash of their weapons sparked brilliantly, like a display of fireworks. If the weapons they wielded hadn’t been alchemical, they would have shattered long ago under the immense pressure of their power.

Around them, the sounds of gunfire and explosions echoed. The priests, suspended in the air by grappling hooks, fired before even touching the ground, raining bullets from the sky. The moment Chisei leaped from the helicopter, he withdrew his Kingship. The Oni Clan’s engineering team and gunmen hadn’t even had a chance to stand or dodge before being suppressed by the barrage of fire. The family’s priests had once been the most ruthless of criminals, and now, with weapons in hand once again, they were just as steady as they had been before. The surviving members of the Oni Clan crawled to retrieve their weapons and fired back, aiming for the vital points of the priests, hoping to strike fatal blows while the priests were still suspended in the air.

There was no real hatred between them. The engineering team’s job was merely to awaken and capture the god, while the priests were responsible for sweeping and offering incense in the shrines. But once thrust onto the battlefield, none of them had any way out. The well was filled with their roars and screams, none of them had the time or will to wonder why. Unconscious killing and rage consumed the well.

“Come on, brother! Just like in the kendo dojo in middle school, right? You were always the strongest! You always used two bamboo swords! You defeated everyone—you were Ultraman Hikari!” Ruri laughed wildly. “It feels just like when we were kids, doesn’t it?”

If Inuyama Katsu were still alive, he would have turned to stone upon witnessing this scene. Both Chisei and Ruri easily suppressed his Yanling “Satsuna,” and none of it even required the use of Yanling. For the emperor, it was as simple as casually unleashing their innate violent power.

The helicopter disintegrated mid-air. The young priest piloting it had no time to escape. He held onto the controls until the last of his comrades had jumped from the cabin. The rotor separated from the body, spinning through the air like a massive scythe. The fuselage crashed into the well wall with blinding sparks, plummeting downward. The immense shadow loomed over the two brothers. But neither retreated. The flashes of their blades fell like a torrential rain—if either stopped for even an instant, countless sword strikes would penetrate the web of light, shredding their bodies.

“Come on, brother! Let’s play the game of bravery again! See who gets scared and retreats first! Only real men can hold on until the end, right? Didn’t you say you’d come with me to the underworld? I’m really looking forward to that trip!” Ruri shouted, slashing his blade.

He didn’t dodge, even as the multi-ton helicopter wreckage plummeted toward him. He stood his ground. Tonight, he had been silent, like a ghost that had forgotten its past life. But now, sparks shot from his pupils.

Osho had wiped away not his memory, but his “Chime” persona, leaving only the demon that was Ruri. Deep down, Ruri harbored hatred for Chisei. When he was at his weakest and needed his brother the most, Chisei had abandoned him, stabbing him in the chest.

The ground was littered with the weapons of the dead. Ruri bent down, picking up a short blade and hurling it at Chisei with all his might. There was no technique involved, just pure force. Time seemed to slow in Ruri’s eyes, allowing him to track the blade’s path clearly. The blade exceeded the material limits of its strength, and from the moment it left his hand, it began to fracture. The shards enveloped Chisei, slicing into him. Blood flowed as the metal fragments cut him, but Chisei forced his way through them. In an instant, he was upon Ruri, launching from zero to full speed. The flashes of Kumogiri and Dōjigiri crisscrossed before Ruri’s eyes, as beautiful as falling cherry blossoms under a bright moon.

Only a few hours had passed since their last fight to the death, yet Chisei’s speed and strength now matched Ruri’s. In mere hours, not even royal blood could heal half of the life-threatening wounds he had sustained.

The tumbling helicopter wreckage suddenly split open. A giant blade arc tore through the metal skin of the fuselage, sending shards flying.

It was the rotor, spinning like a massive scythe! With a diameter of nearly ten meters, the rotor cut through everything in its path like an unstoppable blade.

The game of bravery could no longer continue. Even a fraction of a second more, and both men would have been torn to pieces on the battlefield. With a sharp scream, Ruri leaped into the air, slashing at the falling wreckage with his long blade.

To an ordinary person, this would have seemed like an insane and pointless act. A heavy helicopter weighs more than ten tons, and compared to it, a human is like an ant under the foot of an elephant. No matter how hard an ant struggles, it cannot stop the elephant’s stomp.

But Ruri could no longer be considered human. He was a mutant capable of battling gods with his bare hands! His long blade sparked as it struck the helicopter wreckage. He managed to slice through the debris that was crashing down on him, using the recoil to propel himself away.

In the next moment, Kumogiri and Dōjigiri pierced through his chest. Ruri was in mid-air and had no way to dodge. No matter how strong he was, he needed solid ground to change his position. In mid-air, he was no different from an ordinary person. He could only watch as those two gleaming blades shot from Chisei’s hands, unable to resist. Even the strong muscles and tough bones of a Hybrid could not withstand the power of these legendary Oni-slaying swords.

Ruri twisted his head violently, catching sight of Chisei standing beneath the burning wreckage. Chisei hadn’t dodged. In this game of bravery, it was the sane older brother who had held out until the end, not the crazed younger one.

The rotor struck Chisei’s shoulder, brutally pinning his small frame to the ground, the blades cutting into him one after another. The rest of the wreckage fell on top of him, with the spinning rotor continuing to shred the debris. Twisted metal fused together, sliding across the ground until it slammed into a massive liquid nitrogen tank. A torrent of liquid nitrogen poured over the helicopter wreckage, ice spreading across its surface, thick fog billowing up.

The fuel tank ruptured, and sparks ignited the falling wreckage, creating an explosion as brilliant as a thousand suns at the bottom of the well. The blast wave violently separated everyone, a pillar of light and dust sweeping through the reservoir’s depths. Scorching air currents and flying debris swept across the battlefield.

The priests and engineering team were still locked in combat, too absorbed in their fight to realize that their patriarch had already fallen. Everyone was consumed by a sense of duty and rage. No matter how the battle ended, no one could stop now.

Ruri slammed into the wall of the well. Though gravely injured, he still hadn’t died. He reached out and pulled the two Oni-slaying swords from his chest, his instinctive reaction leading him toward the blazing wreckage. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to confirm his brother’s death or exchange a few final words with him before he passed… but by now, what words were left to say between them? He stopped far from the flames, staring blankly at the inferno, as if he had once again lost his memory. Deep inside, he harbored both attachment and resentment toward his brother, but the boy who had once clung to his brother had been erased by Osho. At this moment, when he should have felt sorrow, he felt nothing—just emptiness.

“What a tragic end,” Osho lamented in a poetic tone as he stood by the burning wreckage. “A family that has lasted for millennia, the protectors of Japan, has fulfilled its mission and come to an end.”

“But perhaps it’s for the best,” he added with a faint smile. “It was an outdated existence, after all.”

Ruri ignored his pretentiousness, quietly lowering his head and digging into his blood-soaked chest with his hands, like a puppet questioning whether it still had a heart.

Osho hefted the suitcase in his hand—the quartz containment vessel was inside. He had finally obtained the thing he had desired his whole life. It was time to leave the well.

At that moment, a massive heartbeat thundered behind him, like the sudden toll of a death knell, as if something had returned from the depths of hell! A hand covered in white scales pierced the metal shell of the helicopter wreckage, and a crystalline claw gripped Osho’s skull!

The flames inside the cabin flared, growing more intense with every breath. Something enormous was breathing inside the cabin, inhaling vast amounts of air and exhaling fire through every crack.

The suitcase fell to the ground. Osho was horrified, not just by the increasing pressure of the claw but by the sound of the breathing within the cabin, which made his heart feel as though it were being crushed. But he couldn’t struggle. Despite his near-immortal body, he was powerless against the crushing grip of that pale claw! He could only signal Ruri with his eyes, hoping he would come to his aid. At this moment, only Ruri’s long blade could sever the iron-like claw. But Ruri didn’t move. His dull eyes lit up with interest as he watched the claw slowly tighten. Osho’s mask began to crack, and blood dripped from the fissures.

The wreckage disintegrated—it had been torn apart by someone’s bare hands! Those close to the wreckage were instantly killed by the flying flames and debris.

Out of the flames stepped a brilliant white figure. It could no longer be called human—it was a beautiful yet terrifying creature. Every muscle and tendon bulged, showing the unimaginable power contained within that incredible body. The translucent scales on its surface shimmered in the firelight, glowing with golden and red hues like a royal cloak of silk. The skin on its back split open, and long bones extended outward. Wings drenched in blood spread for the first time. Blood dripped as the wounds on his back healed at a visible speed, and the savage muscles on his back bulged.