La Torre de los Ecos se erguía como un coloso oscuro, su sombra se extendía por el suelo como una advertencia silenciosa. Kazuo avanzó hacia él con pasos firmes, con la mirada fija en su objetivo. El aire estaba cargado de tensión, pero su expresión permanecía imperturbable, como si el peso del lugar no pudiera tocarlo.
De repente, un grito espeluznante rompió el silencio. Un guerrero emergió de la entrada de la torre, tambaleante y con el rostro pálido. Sus ojos estaban muy abiertos por el miedo, y jadeaba mientras intentaba formar palabras coherentes.
'¡Ayuda!' exclamó, cayendo de rodillas frente a Kazuo. "¡Mi grupo está atrapado! ¡La bestia los tiene! ¡Por favor, haz algo!'.
Kazuo se detuvo frente a él, su mirada fría y penetrante cayó sobre el hombre como una sentencia. Durante unos segundos, el guerrero permaneció paralizado bajo el peso de esa mirada. Finalmente, Kazuo habló, su tono bajo y afilado como un cuchillo.
– ¿Y tú los abandonaste?
El guerrero abrió la boca para responder, pero no salió ninguna palabra. Bajó la cabeza, temblando visiblemente. Kazuo chasqueó la lengua con desdén.
– Patético.
Sin decir una palabra más, lo dejó atrás y avanzó hacia la entrada de la torre. Pero tan pronto como cruzó el umbral, su habilidad 'Ojo del Alma' se activó, revelando las auras de los que aún luchaban en su interior. Había varias llamas pequeñas parpadeando contra el inmenso vacío de oscuridad. Una tras otra, esas llamas comenzaron a desvanecerse.
Cada desaparición iba acompañada de un eco: gritos, súplicas, y luego... silencio. No se trata solo de vidas que se están cobrando. Era algo más: una presencia, una resistencia, que se extinguió en el aire como si nunca hubiera existido.
Los ojos de Kazuo se agudizaron. Su cuerpo reaccionó casi de inmediato. No aceleró un poco. Echó a correr.
Dentro de la sala principal, la escena era de carnicería. El suelo estaba cubierto de sangre y armas rotas, las grietas se extendían como cicatrices y el equipo estaba esparcido por todas partes. En el centro del caos, una bestia grotesca se alzaba triunfante, con su oscura figura iluminada por la tenue luz que se filtraba por las grietas del techo. Era una criatura con escamas grises y ojos rojos brillantes, con colmillos goteando sangre y garras afiladas manchadas con lo que una vez fue humano.
Aiko, la única superviviente consciente, estaba medio desplomada contra una columna rota. Su cabello rojo, empapado en sudor y polvo, caía en mechones enredados sobre su rostro mientras su cuerpo temblaba incontrolablemente. Había perdido su espada, rota y yacía a su lado, y aunque sus ojos estaban abiertos, estaban desenfocados, congelados en un estado de shock que la mantenía cautiva.
She had seen everything. Each of her companions had faced the beast bravely, only to fall in the cruelest way possible. One of them had been crushed against a wall, leaving a trail of blood that was still dripping. Another had tried to attack from the air, but had been caught like a toy and thrown to the ground with such force that his body had been torn in two. Every scream, every impact still echoed in Aiko's ears, but fear had paralysed her, her tears falling silently as her lips trembled, unable to utter a sound.
At that moment, Kazuo entered the room. His Eye of the Soul caught the last glimmers of the remaining souls. One faded just before he arrived, disintegrating into particles of light that disappeared into the air. Only one remained: Aiko's, so broken and fragmented that it seemed to be seconds away from extinction.
The beast turned towards him, baring its fangs in a mocking grin. 'Another toy?' it said, its hoarse voice echoing in the space as it took a step towards him. 'Well, one more before the feast.'
Kazuo didn't respond. His gaze was icy, but his movements spoke for themselves. He took a step towards the creature, his hands relaxed but tense, as if every fibre of his being was contained but ready to explode.
The beast let out a roar so deep it shook the foundations of the tower. Its enormous body lunged forward with all its strength and speed, its claws extended like living blades, glinting with murderous intent. Its bloodshot eyes sought the same thing they had found in its previous victims: despair. Panic. Flight.
But Kazuo didn't move.
He didn't take a step back.
He didn't tense his muscles. He didn't raise any defences.
He just waited.
And just as the creature was an inch from his face, Kazuo's fist rose. It wasn't an exaggerated or theatrical movement. It was clean, dry, so precise that it seemed to split the air in two.
The beast's skull caved in under the impact. The sound was indescribable: crushed flesh, bone breaking like rotten wood. The creature was thrown backwards, hitting the wall with such force that it left a distorted silhouette, a deep hole covered in blood, slime and broken teeth.
A second of silence.
And then Kazuo moved.
He didn't run. He walked. Step by step. Each step seemed heavier than the last, not from fatigue, but from the intention behind it. The creature, still conscious, tried to get up with a guttural groan. One of its legs was shaking. Its jaw hung askew. Terror crept into its eyes for the first time.
Kazuo didn't give it time.
The next blow slammed it into the ground. The skull cracked like an empty helmet breaking. Another blow. The torso collapsed. Another. A rib exploded in a cloud of blood and guts. And then it was no longer a fight. It was punishment.
Fist after fist. Arm after arm. The beast's body began to lose shape, to spill out like minced meat between the cracks in the stone. It couldn't roar. It couldn't defend itself. Every attempt to move was met with a new explosion of bone and muscle that pinned it further to the ground.
Kazuo didn't say a word.
He showed no anger on his face.
No hatred.
Just that unbreakable calm... the same calm that made it impossible to tell if he was punishing a monster or a reflection of something deeper. Something older.
The ground shook.
The stones beneath the monster's body cracked as if the world itself wanted to turn away from the punishment. And yet, Kazuo did not stop. His knuckles were covered in blood—his own and hers—and the room was now an echo of repeated, relentless thuds.
Outside World
Aether's Realm Broadcast – Main Channel
'What... what are we seeing?' stammered a commentator, covering her mouth with her hand.
'No... I can't continue reporting this. I'm sorry,' added another, turning his face away, visibly shaken.
Thousands of messages piled up on the forum.
💬 User @ElSolitarioFan: 'This isn't a fight. It's an execution.'
💬 @KZ_Hype: 'I've never seen a beast cry with its eyes. This... this is too much.'
💬 @LuzDeRayushen: 'Can someone explain how something so brutal can be so... fair?'
💬 @ForKazuo: 'That monster killed five players and maimed several others... and yet I feel sorry for him.'
💬 @AyameIsQueen: 'I've never been afraid to support someone. Kazuo scares me. And I respect him. At the same time.'
As he struck, an image flashed through his mind. A small boy with messy black hair, throwing frantic punches while his face was contorted with rage. In front of him, another boy fell to the ground, too badly injured to continue fighting.
In the memory, a woman with long hair and a serene face held him firmly by the shoulders. 'Kazuo, stop...' she said in a calm but authoritative voice, her eyes filled with concern. 'Don't let anger consume you.'
The image faded, and Kazuo stopped his blow. He looked down, and what he saw was not the monster's body. There was only a dark pool mixed with the cracks in the floor, all reduced to unrecognisable remains. He had hit the same shattered floor over and over again until there was nothing left.
He rose slowly, breathing heavily as he surveyed the mess he had left behind. His fists were stained with blood and dust, but he showed no emotion. He turned his attention to Aiko, who was still kneeling on the floor, tears streaming down her face and her eyes unfocused.
Kazuo moved towards her, his figure shrouded in shadows as the remnants of the battle settled in the air. And so, in the midst of the chaos,