The battlefield was a graveyard.
Cracked earth. Burning air. Blood and dust painted the wind red. The once mighty Demon Lords and True Dragons lay scattered like broken weapons—battered, bleeding, barely conscious. The ground trembled under the weight of a war they could no longer fight. The only one still standing…
Milim Nava.
She stood tall, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Blood trailed down her lip, her arms bruised, legs trembling—but her eyes? Her eyes were still burning with fire.
Across from her, Atraval—the Bane of All Power—stretched his arms with a sick grin. "You've lasted longer than I thought," he said, his voice echoing like a growl in a dark cave. "But you're still mortal, still breakable. Let me show you."
And then—
BOOM!
Milim charged.
Her feet ripped through the earth. Her speed blurred. Her elbow came in fast—Muay Thai clinch, followed by a knee strike that nearly connected with Atraval's ribs.
He blocked it with his forearm and retaliated with a sharp kick—Milim caught it midair, twisted, and flipped him over her shoulder.
But Atraval landed on his feet, sliding backward with a smirk.
"You trained well," he said.
Milim didn't answer. She dashed in again—this time with a barrage of karate strikes, sharp, precise, body rotating with each attack. Atraval leaned back, dodged, then parried a kick aimed at his head.
She followed with an Aikido throw, catching his arm and slamming him down hard—but again, he flipped through the air and landed with ease.
Their battle became a blur.
Fist met fist. Knee met stomach. Elbow met jaw.
CRACK!
Milim landed a spinning backfist to Atraval's face—he staggered slightly. It was the first real damage she managed to do.
"Not bad…" Atraval said, cracking his neck. "But you're not fighting to kill me. You're fighting to survive."
Milim growled, "You won't win."
WHOOSH!
She vanished in a blur of speed and came down with a powerful flying roundhouse kick aimed at his temple—Atraval ducked, spun behind her, and hit her spine with a heavy elbow.
Milim gasped. Pain shot through her body.
She hit the ground and rolled—but she got back up. Blood on her tongue. Grit in her teeth.
Back into stance.
She lunged again.
From afar, the others watched. Or tried to.
Guy Crimson, face bloodied, groaned, "She's holding on… but he's getting faster."
Rimuru, coughing and bruised, muttered, "Come on, Milim… please."
Velgrynd, pinned under rubble, whispered, "You're the only one left… fight…"
Back in the storm of fists—
Atraval's moves became monstrous. He no longer blocked—he predicted. He read every angle of her kicks, every direction of her strikes. His counters were brutal. Clean.
Milim launched a spinning axe kick—he stepped inside and punched her ribs.
CRACK!
She coughed blood.
He grabbed her by the wrist and threw her into a rock pillar—she crashed through it.
Still, she rose.
She ran forward again, desperation in every strike. Jabs. Hooks. Knees. Sweeps.
But he was faster now. Stronger. Sharper.
Atraval dodged left. Then right. Then ducked low and with a brutal punch to the stomach, he stopped her in her tracks.
"GAKHHH!!"
Milim fell to her knees. Arms limp. Vision fading. She couldn't breathe.
Atraval stood over her, eyes wide with that twisted grin. "You fought hard. But strength alone is not enough. I am not just stronger. I am supremacy made flesh."
He looked around at the beaten Demon Lords, True Dragons, all lying broken and silent.
Atraval raised one arm to the sky. His palm ignited with dark crimson energy—not magical, but pure void force, drawn from the death of will itself.
"This is your end. No second chances. No comebacks. Just… nothing."
But then—
He paused.
A strange feeling crept up his spine.
Like ice.
A pressure—no, a presence.
No magic.
No energy.
Just… will.
It felt like death.
Atraval's eyes narrowed. "What is that...?"
And then—
A voice. Calm. Deep. Mocking.
"Still running your mouth, huh?"
Atraval slowly turned.
The sky flickered.
The clouds stopped moving.
And there—standing on a shattered ridge, hands in his pockets, chest out, smirk painted across his face…
Was Yujiro Hanma.
Calm. Unmoving. His muscles rippled under his skin like serpents beneath the surface. The pressure around him bent the air. The ground beneath him cracked from the sheer force of his presence.
Not magic.
Not aura.
Just intent.
Killing. Unshakable. Unforgiving.
Atraval took a step back.
"Yujiro.....What the hell… are you?" he muttered.
Yujiro grinned, wider now.
"I'm the man who trained that girl," he said, nodding to Milim. "And I'm the man who's about to bury you with his fists."
Silence.
No one breathed.
Even the sky seemed to stop.
And then the air exploded.
The moment Yujiro Hanma stepped forward, the battlefield warped.
The wind reversed. The clouds retreated. The shadows stood still.
Even Atraval—the devourer of worlds, the bane of all power—could feel it. It wasn't magic. It wasn't divine energy. It wasn't even ki.
It was dominance.
Raw. Ancient. Untamed.
The kind of presence that could bend a god's spine with a stare.
Yujiro kept walking, his fists clenched lazily by his sides, boots cracking the blackened ground. The air around him shimmered like glass in fire.
Atraval narrowed his eyes, his smirk starting to fade. "You're no god… no dragon… no demon. So why do you feel like a threat?"
Yujiro finally stopped a few feet away from him.
The Demon Lords and Dragons—still down, injured, some barely conscious—could only watch in silence.
Milim, still on her knees, blood dripping from her mouth, turned her head and whispered, "Uncle…"
Yujiro glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
"You did good, kid," he said. "Rest now. I'll handle this clown."
And then it began.
Without a stance, without a word—Yujiro exploded forward.
BOOOOM!!!
The ground beneath his feet shattered as he vanished in a blink. Atraval barely raised his guard when—
THWACK!!
A thunderous right hook to the jaw sent Atraval flying through three mountains.
The sky trembled from the impact. Trees snapped. The air turned red from the force of the punch alone.
But before the debris could settle—
Yujiro was already there.
He appeared behind the falling Atraval, midair, and spiked him downward with a flying kick to the spine.
CRAAACK!!
The earth ruptured. A crater the size of a city opened up beneath Atraval.
Rimuru, barely able to lift his head, gasped, "H-He's moving faster than sight…"
Leon muttered, "I can't even track them…"
Velgrynd, coughing, eyes wide, whispered, "That's not power… that's a beast..."
In the crater—
Atraval coughed, blood trailing from his mouth. He sat up, growling, cracking his neck. "You… you hit hard."
Yujiro dropped into the crater behind him like a god descending to pass judgment.
"You don't even know what 'hard' is yet," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let me teach you."
The clash resumed....
Atraval countered with speed strikes, spinning elbows, palm thrusts that could blow a hole through a mountain.
Yujiro weaved through it all like water around a blade.
Dodge. Parry. Counter.
Yujiro's Karate was devastating—his fists moved like thunder, with the precision of a machine and the rage of a monster.
He threw Atraval into the air, leapt after him, and delivered a midair Judo shoulder throw, flipping Atraval headfirst into the ground.
BOOM!
Dust exploded. Rocks split. The sound echoed for miles.
Atraval roared and leapt back up, face bleeding now, jaw cracked.
"You're fast," he said. "You're dangerous. But I'm not done yet!"
He released a shockwave punch toward Yujiro—one that shattered the earth in a line.
Yujiro smiled.
And then ducked, slid under it, and hit Atraval in the gut with a clean uppercut.
Everything paused.
Then—
Atraval flew fifty meters into the air, screaming, before Yujiro appeared above him and slammed him back down with a hammerfist.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
The two titans fought without rest, without hesitation. Fists turned to blurs. Kicks sounded like explosions. The entire barren land became a war zone from just two people.
And still, Atraval was struggling.
"I sealed all your magic… all your strength," he roared between breaths, "how are you this strong?!"
Yujiro cracked his neck again.
"Because I don't need magic to fold a mountain in half."
He stepped forward.
"Because I don't need spells to break gods."
He clenched his fists.
"Because I'm Yujiro Hanma. And I am strength."
From the sidelines, the Demon Lords watched in awe.
Diablo, eyes wide, said, "I have never… witnessed anything like this."
Guy Crimson, grinning through blood, chuckled, "That's the kind of monster you don't fight… you just pray he's on your side."
Atraval's breathing grew heavier.
Cuts across his face. Bruises on his chest. His right shoulder dislocated.
He tried to charge one more time—but Yujiro was already in front of him.
One punch.
Right to the solar plexus.
Atraval froze.
Eyes wide. Air gone. Knees trembling.
Yujiro whispered, "Let's end this."
He twisted his hips, locked his shoulder, and delivered a full-force spinning backfist—
BAAAAAAM!!!
Atraval flew. Not back—up.
He crashed into the sky itself. The black clouds split open.
And the entire battlefield shook.
Silence.
Only the wind.
And Yujiro stood there. Calm. Smirking....