Flesh met force.
Stone shattered.
Reality trembled.
They fought—not as Wielders of power, but as forces of nature in human form.
Riku lunged forward with a knee strike that shattered the air between them. Akuma leaned just enough to evade it, responding with a downward elbow that cracked the platform beneath Riku.
They parted—only for a second—then closed the gap again with blinding speed.
No wasted movement.
No flair.
Only destruction.
Riku's form blurred—his footwork was impossibly precise, his fists like meteors. Each punch came from angles no normal body should be able to reach. He chained momentum like a celestial dance, coiling and snapping through space like a constellation brought to life.
Akuma answered it all.
Without powers.
Without transformation.
His body moved like it had never forgotten war. Every block was perfectly timed, every counter crisp. He weaved between strikes with terrifying grace—effortless, cold, exact.
They exchanged over two hundred strikes in less than five seconds.
Stone platforms around them were reduced to dust.
Akuma's hand shot forward.
Riku ducked, spun, and launched a palm to the side of Akuma's ribs—
Crack.
First blood.
Akuma staggered half a step.
Riku didn't press—he waited.
Akuma straightened, rubbing his side. A faint smear of red stained his black coat.
He chuckled once.
"Interesting."
"You're not invincible," Riku said.
Akuma tilted his head. "No. Just undeniable."
He dashed forward—and now, it was his turn to lead.
His fists blurred.
Jabs. Hooks. Open-hand strikes. Elbow feints that turned into full-body spins. Riku ducked, blocked, pivoted—until one strike finally landed.
A clean shot across Riku's jaw.
He was flung into a stone pillar—shattering it.
But he didn't stay down.
He burst out, faster than before.
They clashed again mid-air—trading blows as they rose above the void, silhouetted against swirling skies of black and crimson.
Neither could pull away.
Each had been dominant against hundreds.
But now—every strike demanded perfection.
Every second tested legacy.
Akuma caught Riku's wrist—twisted—and launched a knee to his chest. Riku grunted, coughing slightly, but twisted his momentum to spin and deliver a spinning backhand that slammed into Akuma's temple.
Both reeled.
Both recovered.
Both smiled.
Akuma exhaled slowly. "I haven't bled in… centuries."
Riku's eyes shimmered. "Then I'll make you remember what mortality feels like."
They rushed each other one more time.
And the world held its breath again.