Amber of its cruelity

The wind drags green ash across the broken plains. The sky above pulses in dull veins of stormlight, thunder growling behind the black dunes. Kon stands under his umbrella, black robe whispering across the sand. Beside him: Victor, Hazo, and Fuko — their eyes cold, their breath calm.

Kon lifts his head slightly. He speaks, his voice drifting like smoke.

Kon: "I see… it's an Orge. And another Orge behind you."

Hazo flinches — pivots. Too late. A massive claw slams into him from behind — he's thrown aside like a ragdoll, skidding across the dunes. The wind howls as the giant shadow looms: an Orge — grotesque, eyes sunken deep, metal chains wrapping its waist. Its breath stinks of rotting flesh.

Kon's lips curl into a mild, curious smile.

Kon: "I see… it's you, CADRIT."

The Orge steps forward — but its eyes burn with an intelligence not common for its kind. Its voice rasps out, thick with hate.

CADRIT: "Kon… finally we meet. Really Kon? You still walk this world…?"

Victor spits to the side — a flicker of disgust.

Victor: "It's you, huh?"

Kon twirls the umbrella lazily, eyes half-lidded.

Kon: "You are still roaming here… like that dog you've always been. Isn't it your job after all?"

CADRIT snarls — spittle flying from its jagged teeth.

CADRIT: "Kon! You think I'd ever forget what you did to her?!"

Kon's smile widens — teeth sharp beneath the calm mask.

Kon: "Of course I remember."

From behind CADRIT, a flash — a figure lunges at Kon. A man — skin like gray steel, eyes glassy white. His sword arcs down — shrieking through the air.

BAKU: "Magic Art: Sword Dance — Split Flesh!"

But Kon is gone — a swirl of black silk and umbrella. The blade hits empty air, slicing dust. Baku lands, slides back — eyes narrow. CADRIT's rage boils over.

CADRIT: "After that day, I became head of this clan — thanks to Lord Burdo!"

Kon laughs softly, low enough only Victor catches it.

Kon: "As I said — a dog stays a dog. I don't think you'll be able to do anything here, right now."

CADRIT roars — the dunes quake under his rage.

CADRIT: "You son of a—!"

But before he finishes, another shadow rises beside him — a massive Orge, taller than CADRIT, skin crusted like old stone. It raises one massive hand, the nails like black iron spikes.

RAIBO: "Wait. He's testing your patience, CADRIT."

CADRIT snarls, chest heaving.

CADRIT: "Yeah, yeah…"

Baku, still crouched low, flicks blood from his sword — the blade glows with runes.

BAKU: "I've sealed him. Now it's you and me, Kon."

And in an instant, the dunes blur — Kon and Baku vanish into a swirl of shadows — gone. The dimension twists — spits them into another realm: the Whispering Dark. A void dimension — no stars, no wind — just a black plain stretching endlessly, walls flickering like half-forgotten memories.

Victor glares at CADRIT — sword drawn, the faint hum of magic pulsing through his veins.

Victor (low, dangerous): "Lord Kon — what you did… you perish these mongrels alone."

CADRIT's lips peel back — a snarl mixed with laughter.

CADRIT: "A trick. Baku's art seals magic — Kon can't use it here."

Victor lifts his sword — energy coiling around the steel like blue flame.

Hazo, still standing despite blood on his shoulder, wipes his mouth. He draws his blade — the edge gleams red.

Hazo: "Sword Style: Eating of Blade."

In a heartbeat — Hazo's blade cleaves through another Orge who charges mindlessly — its head rolling into the black sand. Blood hisses on impact.

CADRIT spits — eyes flicking to Hazo, then to Victor.

CADRIT: "Monsters. Monsters, every one of you—"

Fuko steps up, twirling his curved dagger — his grin feral. He points the blade at CADRIT, voice dripping mockery.

Fuko: "Says the real monster."

CADRIT's chest heaves — rage and hatred twisting his cracked lips. He slams his hands together — from his palms, a jagged sword of Orge-forged steel shimmers into existence, jagged like broken teeth.

CADRIT: "This blade will carve you open — Steel of Orge, Cutter of Terrible Form!"

He charges Victor — the desert cracking under his feet. Victor slides back, raising his sword.

Victor: "Sword of Shield."

The two blades collide — sparks splinter the night. Sand kicks up like a storm.

Victor's voice cuts through the clash — mind-link humming between them.

Victor (mind): "Listen — you take him, I'll handle CADRIT. Fuko — Raibo is yours. Remji — find the key path, teleport it open."

A chorus in the dark:

Fuko: "Got it."

Remji: "Understood."

CADRIT's mouth twists into a grin of rot and hate.

CADRIT: "You think you can beat me? You filth — disgusting parasites in this world. You took my key. You took my wife. Now—"

He lunges — blade shrieking in the air.

CADRIT: "Steel of Orge: Blade Cutters of Terrible Form!"

Victor pivots — steel meets steel — sparks fly. The clash echoes through Muzoraiko's ruin. Victor parries, slides under the swing — counters — but CADRIT twists, claws raking Victor's leg. Blood sprays across the sand.

Victor snarls — pain flooding him.

Victor: "Nice. But you won't beat us."

CADRIT's grin widens — teeth like broken gravestones.

CADRIT: "Is that so?"

Victor's eyes flash wide — too late. Another cut — deeper. His leg buckles — blood pools under his boot. He grits his teeth, raises his blade again.

---

The Whispering Dark – Kon & Baku

Kon sits, sword resting across his knees, eyes fixed on the endless dark around him. The stale air hums low — a dimension built like a cage.

Kon speaks, voice low but steady:

Kon: "Guess I have my few powers I can use… but not all my magic. But you can, Baku — most of the things, more than me — because you used it before. But still… you're bounded by it too."

Baku stands a few steps ahead, sword held lazy at his side. He tilts his head, answering back:

Baku: "Correct. You're very smart, Kon. A smart opponent like you? Should be fun. But still, some attacks… you still not able to use them. It'll be very bad for you."

Kon shifts his blade just slightly, watching Baku's feet, his shoulders.

Kon: "I see… it's something else then in this fight. My blood manipulation won't work here… but my sword — my weapons — can."

Baku's grin sharpens.

Baku: "Still not able to beat me up. Yeah, you're right — no blood manipulation will work because this dimension already restricts your blood tricks. Your main technique — gone."

Kon stays seated, fingertips brushing the cold steel on his knees.

Kon: "Guess it's a good one in here then…"

He lifts his eyes, steady, unreadable — ready for a fight where only steel and instinct matter now