Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.
Chapter 68: Awakening of a demon 2

Chapter 68: Awakening of a demon 2

Amari stood in the center of the open field, an unsettling grin tugging at his lips. His friends surrounded him, their eyes sharp, bodies tense. The air crackled with energy, the weight of the impending clash pressing down on all of them.

"Alright," Amari said, his voice smooth and confident. "Let’s stop messing around. Full power. All of you."

No hesitation.

Maverick smirked, raising his voice in command. "Everyone—go all out!"

The shift was immediate. Each of them activated their Unco at the same time, the energy in the air intensifying. Maverick’s authority guided them, sharpening their focus, syncing their movements.

Johnny moved first.

He dashed forward with deadly precision, his eyes glowing as his Unco activated. Time Freeze.

Everything around him halted.

For two seconds, the world stood frozen in place. The birds in the sky, the wind in the trees—the fight itself—completely still.

But before those seconds could pass, before time could restart on its own—Amari broke through it.

Without warning, his body surged forward, cutting through the frozen stillness like it was nothing. His hand closed around Johnny’s neck with ease, lifting him off the ground.

Johnny’s eyes widened in shock. Impossible.

With a sharp twist of his arm, Amari hurled Johnny straight into the trunk of a tree. The impact was loud, but Johnny barely had time to process it before Amari’s laughter filled the space between them.

"You’re getting better," Amari said, grinning. "But not good enough yet."

Kenneth wiped the dirt from his cheek, breathing heavily, frustration burning in his chest. "I am so sick of your cockiness, Amari!" he shouted, his voice sharp with irritation.

Without wasting another second, Kenneth charged in again, his fists tight, his movements fueled by pure aggression. His punch came fast—but Amari moved faster, sidestepping the attack like he saw it coming before it even started.

Too predictable.

While Amari danced around Kenneth’s strikes, something crept behind him—a slow, slithering presence. His instincts twitched. Shylo.

His senses weren’t completely back yet, but they were returning—and he could feel Shylo’s Unco creeping toward him.

Not this time.

Without thinking, Amari twisted his body and launched into an acrobatic flip, narrowly avoiding the shadow clawing toward him. The movement sent him soaring above them—but Kenneth, still locked in the fight, saw his opening.

A wicked grin flashed across Kenneth’s face. Got you now.

While Amari was still airborne, Kenneth lunged upward, fist cocked, ready to deliver a brutal hit. But he wasn’t alone—Milo and two identical clones rushed in from different angles, surrounding Amari in midair.

Three Milos. One Kenneth. One Amari.

He had nowhere to land. Nowhere to escape.

But Amari didn’t panic.

Instead, he smirked.

Amari’s body twisted midair, sharp eyes locked onto Kenneth, who was rushing in with a punch. Too direct. Amari reacted instantly, snatching Kenneth’s arm mid-swing. Using the momentum, he spun, carrying the force through his motion, and hurled Kenneth straight into the Milo on his left.

The impact sent both of them flying—slamming hard into the dirt, groaning as they skidded across the field. Two down.

But Shylo was still lurking.

Amari could feel it now—his senses sharpening, time slowing just enough for him to fully see his surroundings. Shylo’s shadow stretched across the ground like a silent predator, waiting for Amari to drop back down.

Not happening.

With barely a second to spare, Amari reached out, grabbing onto the shoulders of the Milo hovering near his head. At the same time, his feet pressed onto the shoulders of the Milo beneath him.

No hesitation. No warning.

Before either of the Milos could react, Amari used them as leverage—pushing off with swift, calculated force. His body flipped away just in time, escaping the shadow’s reach.

He landed smoothly, feet hitting the ground with practiced ease.

The others regrouped, their breaths heavy, their eyes watching him differently now.

Amari straightened, smirking. Now they knew.

Amari stood tall, his breath steady, his gaze sweeping over the group. Dirt clung to his clothes, the cuts and bruises barely registering in his mind. He wasn’t thinking about the fight anymore—he was thinking about everything that led him here.

"I’m used to losing people," he said, his voice calm but weighted. "People close to me. People I wanted to protect." His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "And every time, I failed."

The boys exchanged brief glances, confused by the sudden shift in tone. But Amari kept going.

"But you guys," he continued, his voice softer now, "you made me realize something." He exhaled, looking at them fully. "Someone—someone I considered a brother—once told me that getting strong to protect the ones you love is the way." A slight smile tugged at his lips, almost bittersweet. "I didn’t believe it back then. I didn’t understand why everything had to be solved with violence." He paused, rolling his shoulders. "But now I get it."

Kenneth scoffed, still catching his breath. "What, you think you’re some kind of philosopher now?"

Amari ignored him. "I understand now—what it feels like to be stronger than someone."

Before he could continue, Maverick cut in, shaking his head. "Alright, enough of this dramatic crap. Whatever you’re talking about—it’s childish." His expression was sharp. "Focus. The fight’s not over."

But before Maverick could even finish his sentence—Amari was already behind him.

Nobody saw him move.

Nobody felt the shift.

Maverick froze. His breath hitched for a split second.

Amari smirked, his voice quiet but firm. "If I wanted to, this fight would’ve been over the moment I figured it out."

Amari stretched his arms above his head, letting out a lazy sigh. "Alright, I think that’s enough. No point in fighting anymore." He grinned, rubbing his stomach. "I’m starving, let’s go home."

With an easy laugh, he turned on his heel and hopped forward, joking as if the entire battle had been nothing more than a warm-up. The rest of the crew exchanged looks, shifting uncomfortably as Amari smiled like he hadn’t just wiped the floor with them moments ago.

Kenneth watched him walk off, then leaned toward Maverick, his voice low. "Man, I liked him better when he was the weakest in the group."

Maverick smirked, shaking his head. "Nah. I prefer him like this." His tone was cool, calculating. "The group’s stronger now—with another fighter who can be under my command."

Kenneth raised a brow, then chuckled as the two of them shared a knowing look.

Meanwhile, in the background, Amari was already helping the others up, pulling Johnny to his feet and checking on Milo and Shylo. His voice carried across the field. "You guys good? No broken ribs? You’ll live, right?"

Kenneth’s gaze lingered on him for a moment. Then, he leaned back toward Maverick, whispering one last thought.

"I just hope," he murmured, "that he can be controlled."

...

The group walked home, the fight still fresh in their minds as they tossed around comments and jokes about everything that had happened. The energy was light, easy—like nothing had changed.

But Amari knew things were different now.

At the very back, Maverick walked in silence, his expression unreadable. Amari slowed his steps, falling in beside him. Without hesitation, he faced him directly.

"You can’t control me," Amari said, his voice steady, almost casual.

Maverick raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing slightly. "And why’s that?"

"Your mana isn’t strong enough."

Maverick’s mind immediately raced. How the hell does he know that? His mouth opened slightly, ready to demand an answer, but before he could speak, Amari’s expression shifted—from a smirk to something serious. Not intimidating. Just honest.

"I’ve lost a lot of people in my life," Amari continued. "I was a slave. I spent every single day trying to protect the ones I cared about—failing, over and over." He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. "It made me hate fighting. Made me resent it."

Maverick said nothing. He just listened.

"But you guys..." Amari glanced toward the rest of the crew, his eyes lingering on them for a second before turning back to Maverick. "Your way of living? It’s scary. But the fact that you want to live—that’s admirable."

He paused for a breath, his voice lighter now, calmer. "That’s all I want alongside me. People who want to survive."

Maverick frowned slightly, still confused, still caught off guard. "Why are you telling me this?"

Amari sighed, his steps slow but deliberate. "Because I don’t want to be used by you," he said plainly. "I want to be part of the family."

Maverick held his gaze.

"I’ll do anything for the family," Amari added, voice firm. "As long as it’s not an injustice to me." His eyes darkened with something unreadable, but Maverick could tell it wasn’t weakness.

It was conviction.

"And I promise," Amari said, his voice steady, unwavering, "I’ll get stronger—for my family."

Maverick watched him for a long moment, still trying to make sense of everything.

Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at his lips.

"Alright then."