Two hundred years later...
A crisp morning breeze swept over the Eidolon Mountains, now long abandoned—once sacred, now forgotten. A team of miners, armored in steel suits and powered drills, worked deep beneath the earth. The legends of the Demon Tower were seen as nothing more than superstition, fairy tales whispered by madmen.
But deep in the heart of the mountain... something pulsed. Something ancient.
"We've hit a dense barrier," one miner said, pointing his laser cutter at a black wall etched with crimson runes.
"Blast it open," the foreman ordered.
The miners planted explosive charges and backed away.
Boom.
Stone shattered. The runes dimmed—and died.
And then...
Darkness poured out like a flood.
The air turned ice cold. Shadows stretched unnaturally. A thick, oily mist crept through the mine.
Then—a figure emerged from the abyss.
Clad in tattered royal garbs and wielding a monstrous, jagged demon blade, the figure let out a quiet, rumbling chuckle. His face was pale, with his right eye glowing with a dark cosmic light: the Aku no Eye.
"After two centuries... finally," he whispered.
"G-G-G-... Gimori?!" one miner gasped, frozen in horror.
Gimori smiled. "How sweet. My name still lingers."
In a blur, he moved.
Slashes. Screams. Blood. Silence.
The miners were butchered like cattle. Their blood painted the ancient rock.
Gimori stepped from the mine into the open air, breathing in the light of a new era.
"A new world... ripe for conquest."
But before he could take another step—
A gust of searing heat met him.
Standing before him was a lone warrior clad in a long, dark red cloak. On his back rested a burning blade, its hilt etched with ancient flames. His eyes were calm but fierce.
"Ah... Lord Gimori," the man said. "I've heard the stories."
Gimori raised a brow. "And who are you, warrior?"
The man stepped forward, blade now glowing red-hot at his side.
"I am Aizashi Shishiroma."
Gimori paused.
"Aizashi… those miners mentioned you. 'The Flame of Eidolon,' they called you. Quite the title. It's been two hundred years since I last fought anyone strong."
He smirked, then lunged forward without warning.
His Demon Blade carved the air—but was stopped mid-swing.
Aizashi blocked with ease, embers bursting outward.
With a sharp twist, Aizashi slammed the butt of his flame blade into Gimori's gut, sending the demon staggering back.
Gimori snarled. "Impressive. But let's stop playing."
He released his aura. A wave of deathly black energy spiraled from his body, wilting nearby grass and cracking stone.
Their blades met again—steel, flame, and shadow colliding.
Minutes turned to hours. They fought across cliffs, waterfalls, and burning fields. Each strike threatened to reshape the land.
Aizashi's blade danced with divine heat, his flames roaring in rhythm with his heart. Gimori's every movement radiated demonic power, and his blade screamed with the hatred of a thousand fallen spirits.
Eventually, Gimori began to overpower him.
Slash after slash pushed Aizashi back, his cloak tattered, blood trailing from his mouth.
"You've fought well, Flame," Gimori laughed. "But like all light... you'll flicker and die."
Aizashi dropped to one knee, panting.
And then—
The flames rose.
His blade ignited fully, the fire burning white-hot, hotter than anything seen before.
Aizashi stood tall, a storm of fire surrounding him.
He took a low stance.
"TOTAL RUSH!!!"
A sonic boom shook the mountain.
Gimori raised his blade—but he couldn't even move.
In less than a millisecond, Aizashi vanished, reappeared behind him, and half of Gimori's body was gone—obliterated by thousands of strikes in a flash of flame.
The remaining husk of the demon king hit the ground, silent.
Aizashi, exhausted, sheathed his blade and walked away, his cloak trailing embers.
Hours passed.
Then—
Crack.
The charred corpse twitched.
Then... the Aku no Eye opened, glowing brighter than ever.
Gimori regenerated, flesh sewing itself together with darkness.
He rose slowly, skin steaming, eye gleaming with hate and madness.
"Fine," he chuckled. "You've won... this time."
His voice deepened, warped.
"But I will have my throne. I don't care how I get it—but I'll take what's mine."
The mountain shook.
His Aku no Eye flared like a cursed star as he looked into the horizon, laughing—
A dark, echoing laugh that shook the heavens and chilled the world.