The world hung in the balance—a chaotic harmony of noise and quiet, light and darkness, blending into a whirlpool dance of ruin.
The Abyss receded—its center shattered, its essence disintegrating into a void of dancing shadows—but a lasting, gnawing terror gripped Kaito's heart. Victory tasted bitter.
The one they had encountered, that ghost at the edge of consciousness, still lingered in his mind like a stain that could not be erased. Its message clung with bitter determination:
"The darkness will always return."
Kaito's grip on his sword tightened hard, fingers strained with tension. The ground shook violently beneath his feet, the air vibrating with the resonance of their battle. All about them, the broken world seethed in disharmony.
The ruptured horizon bled into itself, veined with colors that did not have names, and above them, the sky churned as a sea of turbulent ink.
