Turbulent currents churned the air, making this once deathly still world even more frenzied. Shock waves sent visible ripples across the distant dark gray skyline, like a pebble dropped into water.
Shihōin Naraku stopped, his lowered sword tip lightly touching the ground.
A ring of fine cracks appeared around the point of contact, spreading silently for half a meter before stopping.
He raised his head and looked calmly at Isshiki.
Isshiki instantly felt a pressure heavier than any attack.
It was the downward gaze of someone in complete control.
"Any last words?"
Naraku's voice echoed across the raging battlefield.
Isshiki clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding audibly.
He slowly released the hand pressed against his abdominal wound, curling his blood-soaked right hand into a fist.
Bracing himself against the ground, Isshiki staggered back to his feet.
Tearing pain surged from every wound on his body at once, but he did not utter a single groan.
He stood amid the scattered rubble, blood dripping steadily from his wounds onto the ground beneath his feet, gathering into a small, dark red puddle.
Isshiki raised his head, fighting spirit rekindling in his black eyes.
Though faint, it was unmistakably there.
The corner of Naraku's mouth curved upward.
Though Isshiki was already in a hopeless situation, his refusal to ever give up genuinely made Naraku see him in a new light.
Perhaps this was the pride of the Ōtsutsuki Clan.
"That's more like it," Naraku said.
The next second, he vanished again, leaving only a spreading ring of spatial ripples.
Isshiki's pupils contracted sharply. Disregarding his grievously wounded body, he lunged to the side.
A heavy downward slash scattered the pile of rubble where he had just stood.
The shock wave hurled every loose stone within a hundred-meter radius into the air, exposing a