The last monarch {132}

Kenzo gathered his remaining strength, channeling everything he had into a single, devastating punch. He infused his fist with an unimaginable amount of mass, cocking it back in a display of raw power. The Dragon Monarch, ever the showman, grinned menacingly before unleashing a torrent of fire aimed directly at Kenzo's fist.

Ignoring the searing inferno, Kenzo pressed onward. He felt the fire devour the defenses he'd meticulously constructed around his fist, erasing them from existence. Pain seared through his hand, but he wouldn't falter. With gritted teeth, he pushed his fist closer, inch by agonizing inch, towards the Monarch's face.

The Monarch reveled in Kenzo's struggle, convinced that this would be the knight's final stand. Victory seemed within his grasp - another warrior reduced to mere dust.

But before he could react further, the world flipped on its axis. The Monarch found himself staring at his own back, a sickening feeling of dread creeping into his chest. As his gaze darted behind him, his eyes widened in disbelief. A towering knight, clad in obsidian armor, stood sentinel, its hand resting firmly on the back of the Monarch's neck.

Life drained from the Monarch's eyes as he witnessed Kenzo's silhouette, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "That was a good fight," Kenzo said softly, his voice laced with exhaustion.

A final, chilling smile stretched across the Monarch's face before his entire being dissolved into a shower of light particles, his reign of terror finally ended.

Kenzo's eyes shifted towards his savior, the loyal knight Igris. "Took you long enough," he remarked with a hint of amusement, despite his fatigue.

Igris bowed deeply. "Forgive the delay, my liege."

"No worries," Kenzo sighed, fatigue finally overwhelming him. He crumpled onto the ground, his domain flickering and collapsing around them.

As darkness claimed his vision for a fleeting moment, Kenzo's eyes fluttered open again. The scene that greeted him was one of devastation. A mountain of slain dragons lay before him, each one felled by his shadow soldiers. In the distance, Bellion sat stoically amidst a pile of what seemed like thousands of dead dragons.

Finally, Kenzo's gaze settled on his own hand, the charred evidence of the Dragon Monarch's final attack. A grimace flickered across his face, a stark reminder of the brutal battle he'd just endured.

/

Across the battlefield, Yuta Okkotsu was locked in a desperate struggle against Yogumunt, the Monarch of Transfiguration. Yuta, wielding his cursed sword, launched a series of fierce slashes, but Yogumunt displayed an uncanny dodge-ability, effortlessly evading each attack.

Yuta pressed on, closing the distance and thrusting his hand towards Yogumunt's face. As their fingers brushed, a strange symbol materialized above Yuta's mouth. He opened his mouth and uttered a single, powerful word: "Freeze!"

The effect was instantaneous. Yogumunt's body locked up, his cursed energy flow halted in its tracks. Seizing on this golden opportunity, Yuta conjured a powerful boxing glove made of cursed energy. He materialized behind the frozen Yogumunt, landing a devastating blow to the Monarch's face.

Yogumunt, propelled backwards by the impact, roared in frustration. But amidst his fury, a chilling realization dawned on him. His soul, his very essence, felt a foreign touch. Before he could react further, Yuta reappeared behind him, his hand pressed firmly against Yogumunt's back. Like a conduit, Yuta's cursed energy flowed directly into the Monarch, attempting to transfigure his soul.

Yogumunt's defenses kicked in, his cursed energy lashing out at Yuta, forcing him to break contact. Gasping for breath, Yogumunt glared at Yuta, his body radiating a dark aura. His transfiguration had been reversed, but the attack had left him visibly weakened.

"Did you truly believe a simple touch would be my undoing?" Yogumunt taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

Yuta remained silent, his determination hardening. He reached down, his fingers brushing against a ring adorned with a skull emblem on his right hand. He muttered a single name, his resolve resonating in the word: "Rika."

/

Yuta, fueled by a renewed sense of purpose, launched a relentless assault on Yogumunt. Rika, a specter of raw power, materialized beside him, their movements a blur of coordinated strikes. They targeted Yogumunt's weaknesses with pinpoint precision, exploiting every blind spot and chink in his armor.

This battle had stretched on for a grueling eternity. Yuta, despite his vast reserves of cursed energy replenished by Rika's presence, craved a swift resolution. He couldn't afford to expend all his energy here. Ending this fight quickly meant aiding his comrades elsewhere. But Yogumunt proved to be a tenacious foe, not due to his own strength, but the constant interference of his mage army.

Those infuriating sorcerers seemed to possess a spell for every occasion. Yuta had noticed the pattern. Each time he unleashed a different cursed technique, a specific mage countered it with a nullifying spell, effectively reducing the damage. Another mage, ever vigilant, healed Yogumunt's wounds, ensuring his longevity. With hundreds of thousands of soldiers at Yogumunt's disposal, a war of attrition loomed. Eradicating them all felt like an insurmountable feat.

Yuta gritted his teeth. He needed a new strategy, a way to bypass these infuriating tactics and strike a decisive blow against Yogumunt himself.

/

Yuta, his mind a whirlwind of strategy, formulated a desperate plan. He knew a direct assault, no matter how powerful, would be thwarted by the relentless mages. A flicker of movement caught his eye – a slight shift in Yogumunt's stance, betraying the Monarch's growing fatigue. This was his chance.

With a silent command, Yuta channeled a surge of cursed energy into Rika. She materialized beside him, a spectral blur, her chilling presence drawing the attention of the mage battalion. In that split second, Yuta vanished from sight, a technique he'd honed to perfection. The mages, momentarily distracted by Rika's sudden appearance, were caught off guard.

Yuta reappeared behind Yogumunt, a whisper away from his target. Rika, understanding his intent, maintained her assault, her spectral form a chaotic whirlwind, momentarily obstructing the mages' view. This was Yuta's window.

With a surge of cursed energy, Yuta unleashed his most potent technique – "Spear of Longinus." A spear of pure cursed energy materialized in his hand, crackling with an ominous power. In a single, swift motion, Yuta thrust the spear forward, aiming for the nape of Yogumunt's neck – a vital point, unprotected by any lingering effects of the healing mage's curse.{A/N dont mind the name....I definitely was not making a dxd reference...there is nothing to see there...ignore it}

Pov change

Tarnak, the Iron Monarch, roared in frustration. The upstart child, Yuji, weaved around him like a gnat, each black flash leaving a smoldering crater on his otherwise impervious hide. Tarnak swung a fist, the wind whistling as it displaced air, but Yuji was already a blur, his dark form materializing a hair's breadth away. Another black flash, aimed at Tarnak's kneecap, sent a shockwave through the metallic limb.

Pain, a sensation Tarnak had almost forgotten, flared. He bellowed again, but the sound was cut short as a crimson mist erupted in his face. Yuji, battered and bruised, grinned back, his eyes blazing with a dark fire. The Spark of Black pulsed within him, a chaotic counterpoint to the stoic iron that was Tarnak's essence.

Here, in the heart of the battleground, the impossible was unfolding.

The tide began to turn. Tarnak, fueled by a white-hot rage, roared anew. His metallic hide, momentarily weakened by the relentless black flashes, seemed to mend itself under the inferno of his fury. His blows grew wilder, but their raw power became undeniable. One massive swing of his arm caught Yuji full-on, the sickening crunch of bone meeting metal echoing through the battlefield.

Yuji sent flying, a broken doll ragdolling through the air before slamming into the ground. A haze clouded his vision, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth. Tarnak loomed over him, a look of pure disgust twisting his iron features. "Pathetic," he spat, raising a fist the size of a melon to finish Yuji off.

Just as the fist descended, a glint of silver flashed through the air. Tarnak, with a surprised grunt, twisted away, the fist smashing harmlessly into the ground. A thrown blade, spinning end over end, sailed past his ear. He turned his gaze towards Yuji, expecting a flicker of defiance, only to find the boy lying still, seemingly unconscious. A cruel smirk played on Tarnak's lips. "Foolish child," he bellowed, his voice laced with contempt. "Did you truly think such a pathetic attack..."

The smirk died mid-sentence. A searing pain erupted in his chest, a crimson blossom blooming where there had been only cold, unyielding metal moments before. Tarnak looked down, his eyes widening in disbelief. Embedded in his chest was the very blade he'd dodged. But the hand holding it wasn't Yuji's.

He spun around, his gaze landing on a figure that had materialized from thin air behind him. A woman with hair the color of spring grass stood there, her gold eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Blood dripped from the tip of the katana held loosely in her hand. Tarnak, for the first time in millennia, felt a tremor of fear course through his being.

"Who are you?" he rasped, a metallic tang now accompanying the blood in his mouth.

The woman's lips curved into a smile, a smile devoid of warmth. "Your killer," she replied, her voice a chilling whisper. And in that single, icy utterance, Tarnak knew his reign of iron was at its end.

"Yuji, get up!" Maki barked, her voice sharp with urgency. Below her, Yuji pushed himself to his feet, a grimace contorting his face. But even as he did, a soft green glow emanated from his body, visible even through his tattered clothes. His wounds, the brutal toll of Tarnak's attack, were already knitting themselves back together.

"Thanks, Maki-senpai," he managed, offering a weak smile. Maki didn't respond, her eyes already scanning the battlefield beyond where Tarnak had stood.

"Are you healed enough to continue, or do you need a break?" Her voice was a flat monotone, devoid of concern but laced with a practicality born of countless battles.

Yuji nodded, his determination hardening. "I'm fine."

"Then keep up," she said curtly before taking off in a blur of motion. Yuji, adrenaline coursing through his veins, pushed himself after her, his body still protesting but his spirit unyielding.

Across the battlefield, another fight raged. Hakari, a whirlwind of chaotic energy, danced around Baran, the White Flame Monarch. Both men, their faces split in wide, feral grins, were locked in a berserker's embrace. Strategy had been abandoned long ago. Now, it was a brutal dance of raw power, each blow met with another, neither man giving an inch, neither one flinching from the inferno that surrounded them. They were two unstoppable forces, locked in a collision that threatened to tear the battlefield apart.

Hakari was a whirlwind of uncontrolled fury. His movements were a chaotic ballet, a wild mix of spinning kicks and haymaker punches. His laughter echoed across the battlefield, a manic counterpoint to the crackling white flames that danced around Baran. The White Flame Monarch was a force of nature himself. A hulking figure clad in white-hot armor, Baran met Hakari's blows head-on. His fists, wreathed in white fire, slammed into Hakari's chest with the force of a battering ram. Sparks erupted wherever their attacks met, momentarily eclipsing the flames surrounding Baran.

They traded blows with a ferocity that bordered on insanity. Hakari, a blur of motion, landed a glancing blow on Baran's cheek, leaving a sizzling scorch mark. Baran roared in response, a gout of white flame erupting from his mouth that singed Hakari's hair. They grappled, a tangle of limbs and fire, their laughter and roars blending into a single, cacophonous war cry.

Neither one of them seemed to care about defense. Every blow they landed was met with another, a brutal testament to their raw power. The ground beneath them cracked and crumbled, and the air shimmered with the heat radiating from their clash.

The clash continued, a barbaric symphony of fire and fury. Baran, fueled by his own rage, fought like a cornered beast, each blow a desperate attempt to put Hakari down. But Hakari, a grinning menace amidst the inferno, seemed to grow stronger with every exchange. His punches and kicks, once wild and erratic, began to find their mark with a sickening regularity.

Here was the difference. Baran, for all his power, was a dwindling ember. His white flames, once blindingly intense, flickered with desperation. Every blow he landed cost him precious stamina, precious heat. Hakari, however, was a bonfire fed by an unseen source. With each jackpot in his Idle Death Gamble domain, he received a fresh surge of cursed energy, seemingly limitless in this current roll.

The tide turned subtly at first. Hakari, dodging a wild swing from Baran, managed to land a solid punch to the Monarch's chest. The impact sent Baran staggering back, a flicker of excitment replacing the fury in his eyes for the first time. He roared, summoning a final, desperate torrent of white flame, but Hakari, with a joyous laugh, wove through it like a dancer in a fiery waltz.

The final blow was a blur. Hakari, fueled by another jackpot, unleashed a roundhouse kick that connected with Baran's jaw with the force of a battering ram. The White Flame Monarch, his fire extinguished, crumpled to the ground, a broken doll amidst the cooling embers.

Hakari stood above him, panting slightly, but a triumphant grin still plastered across his face. He raised a fist to the sky, the sound of his laughter echoing across the battlefield. He had gambled, he had rolled the dice, and fate, for now, was firmly in his pocket.

A/N,anyway as soon as this story end Monday the new one being posted,for anyone wondering in that one I do make sure to lower Ai rewrite to the minimum for examples.

So hum Keitaro learned that what Shoko showed him wasn't the typical curse energy...

It was the reverse curse technique.....

It's very difficult even for veteran sorcerers and is quite rare.

And his dumbass tries to achieve it on his first day as a jujutsu sorcerer.

He must have had the words dumbass plastered on his forehead when he said what he had said to Gojo and Geto.