The veil of reality parted like torn parchment as Jin and Zhel-Vorah emerged through the portal. Before them lay the Throne World—a boundless, cracked dominion suspended in pale starlight and coiling threads of forgotten divinity. Black marble spires jutted upward like the spines of a fallen titan, and at the center, where six thrones stood vacant, one figure remained seated.
Nyreth.
His posture was relaxed, almost regal—legs crossed on a slab of broken throne-stone, elbows resting on his knees, a twisted smirk plastered on his face.
"So," Nyreth said calmly, his tone laced with mockery, "you finally arrived. Father and son… reunited by vengeance. How poetic."
Jin stepped forward, the edge of his crimson-dragon robe brushing the shattered floor. The white and red glint of his new form shimmered with restrained fury. His two glowing eyes—one sapphire, the other infernal red—fixed upon Nyreth like a celestial judgment passed.
"We're not here for poetry," Jin replied coldly. "We're here to end your delusions."
Nyreth chuckled, but there was tension behind his laugh. "You know, I never thought I'd see the day Zhel-Vorah would walk beside someone again… especially his own flesh and blood."
Zhel-Vorah stepped forward, silent for a moment. The cold wind shifted around him as his masked form flared with power.
Jin raised a brow, then smirked.
"There is one thing we all share in common," Jin said.
Nyreth narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"You were once our pet dog."
A flash of silence.
Then—crack.
A jagged vein of fury appeared on Nyreth's face. His fingers clenched, and blackened energy pulsed around him like a heartbeat laced with contempt.
"You bastard…!" Nyreth growled. "You dare—! You think you can mock me?! I'll make you regret it. I'll erase every memory of who you are!"
Zhel-Vorah chuckled dryly, stepping beside Jin.
"Sweet turns sour when tasted by cowards," he said. "You've been nothing but a shadow of your own ambitions."
With a wave of his hand, Zhel-Vorah summoned the Asura Blade.
The world shuddered.
The blade descended from the void like a fallen star. It pulsed with ancient wrath—each inch of obsidian steel laced with runes etched from the pain of a thousand wars. Lightning crackled from its core as if hungry for a worthy soul.
Nyreth took a sharp step back, his face paling for the briefest second.
"Asura Blade…?" he whispered. "That's… the counterpart to the Dragon Ragnar Blade."
At that moment, the atmosphere thickened.
Twin wings burst from Jin's back—one white, radiant and pure as creation itself; the other black, veined with blood-red threads, as if it had clawed its way out of the Abyss. They unfurled, wide and terrible, casting a colossal silhouette over the thrones.
"I'm no longer bound by your script," Jin said softly. "This is my final chapter."
Nyreth bared his fangs.
"So be it," he snarled, as energy poured from his body like molten ink. The throne beneath him shattered, and six phantom thrones behind him erupted in flame and void.
Jin raised his sword. Zhel-Vorah lifted the Asura Blade.
And with a single, synchronized breath, they stepped forward.
The final battle began.