The Bellator Ultima Prime wave has just devastated the towering altar, adorned with intricate carvings and reliefs depicting tales of epic battles from ancient times. The altar, standing two meters tall and made of timeless granite, is now ravaged by red-blue glyphfire that spews flames and smoke. The intense flames sweep over the altar, the narrow corridors, and the remnants of the once-magnificent sanctuary walls with their high arches. Thick smoke and red embers envelop the duel ground, creating a grim and eerie atmosphere. While Oda shields Nobuzan beneath the altar, Shigure and Bronn stand facing each other on the now-chipped stone steps, their shadows flickering as the firelight illuminates the darkness.
Bronn—a giant of steel, his body almost half-machine, blood oozing from a gash on his arm inflicted by Shigure's recent technique. In his right hand, he wields the Crimson Flood hammer, heavy enough to crush five adults at once, glinting with a wicked orange light as it emerges from the shadows. His breath is hot, the sound of machinery roaring with every movement of his hand, as if shaking the very ruins of this sanctuary.
Shigure—the last Yamato samurai—stands firm despite his armor being mixed with dust and torn in several places, blood dripping from his temple and the corner of his mouth. His black eyes are unflinching. Both swords, Kurohana and Akegiri, are stained with the blood of automatons, still radiating the flickering anti-fire Yamato spell in contrast to the darkness of the room, as if becoming a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. The sanctuary floor trembles under the presence of these two warriors, filled with battle scars and scattered stone debris, reminding all of the power that once graced this sacred place.
Bronn grins, blood mixed with soot on his iron face, adding to the terrifying impression amidst the blazing ruins.
"Do you think you can obstruct history, Shigure? The world has changed. Samurai like you—are just names, mere ghost stories."
Shigure lifts one corner of his mouth, his sword slicing through the smoke,
"The name of a samurai is born when fire burns the world. If this world must perish, let me write its epitaph in the flesh of my enemies."
Bronn strikes first, swinging the Crimson Flood hammer with enough force to shatter the altar, causing a rumble in the grand sanctuary. Its walls, tall and towering, adorned with intricate reliefs depicting epic warfare, seem to come alive under the shimmering firelight. One swing destroys the pillar behind Shigure—a pillar made of gleaming black marble, debris flying like falling stars.
Shigure leaps to the side—his body agile, a signature movement of Yamato. He circles Bronn in a narrow radius, casting the illusion of "Yamato no Kage" (Yamato's Shadow)—a spell that splits his shadow in every direction, confusing Bronn's machine sensors. The dancing light from the flames makes those shadows appear even more dangerous, reflecting a menacing aura on the sanctuary walls.
"Too slow!" Shigure shouts, swiftly slashing at Bronn's steel arm, leaving a deep gash that immediately smolders from the reaction of the anti-machine glyph on his sword. The room fills with the scent of smoke and the sting of metal, creating a tense atmosphere.
Bronn grits his teeth against the pain, reaching for Shigure with his left hand. But Shigure has already leaped onto his opponent's shoulder, using Bronn as a springboard to attack from above. The slash of Akegiri aims for Bronn's neck—but the iron armor holds, sparking a shower of sparks that seem to paint fire in the dark sanctuary sky.
Bronn retaliates with a punch aimed at Shigure, forcing the samurai to retreat. Both men are panting, surrounded by flames that encircle them like a net, glyph spells exploding every time they touch the ground, creating dancing shadows from the ornate architecture.
"Even your machine cannot protect you from death, Bronn," Shigure whispers, holding back the pain in his arm. The grand sanctuary ceiling, adorned with finely carved wooden ornaments, creates an elegant yet ominous impression. The fire from the battle burns the wall mosaics, creating a play of light and shadow that tempts the ancient spirits roaming the place.
"I don't need to be eternal!" Bronn roars, his voice echoing in a space that feels like a legendary battleground. "I need a world that bows to the will of man—not to the tales of samurai!"
Bronn activates the glyph "Crimson Burst"—a clump of black blood explodes from his hammer, flowing onto the cold marble floor, transforming into a magic circle that restrains his opponent's movements. The fine carvings on the sanctuary walls seem to witness this pivotal moment, while every step Shigure takes now feels heavy, as if the ground itself resists his movements in this battle that shakes the foundations of this sacred place.
Shigure closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, channeling the spell "Fuyu no Tsume: Ichi no Kata – Tsumetai Yume" (Winter Claw, First Technique: Frozen Dream). A cold mist flows from his sword, countering the heat of the glyphfire and slowing Bronn's blood flow—the mechanisms of Bronn's machine begin to slow, his joints creaking amidst the dancing shadows above the altar that has been ravaged by their battle.
They challenge each other with their philosophies:
Bronn swings his hammer while shouting, "Civilization belongs to the strong! Anyone who resists will be erased!" Flames soar high, creating illusory candles on the wall ornaments, intensifying the already tense atmosphere. Shigure turns, his sword dazzling under the blaze, creating an effect of light that seems to paint his silhouette in the darkness, "Samurai fight not for power, but for the name and oath that is passed down—and every name deserves to die as a legend, not as a rootless machine!"
Inside the grand sanctuary, with its soaring ceilings and colonnade pillars adorning the space, Bronn exerts all his strength. The walls, decorated with intricate carvings that tell heroic tales, now witness this thrilling battle. The air vibrates with the heat from the flames raging around them, creating dancing shadows on the altar that has been destroyed.
Each blow shatters the altar, creating glyphfire craters and sparkling dust, as if reviving the stories etched into the walls. Shigure flows between the strikes, allowing the world to slow down. He focuses the Yamato spell on a single point—a forbidden technique, "Seisen: Zankoku no Sakura" (Pure Sword: Cruel Sakura).
In one breath, he thrusts into Bronn's chest, embedding Kurohana between the iron plates and flesh. Bronn's blood spurts, dark red mixed with machine oil, splattering onto the engraved floor now filled with traces of their battle. Bronn roars, slamming Shigure to the ground—Shigure's ribs crack, blood flowing from his lips, yet he persists, forcing his body to rise with both hands, trapped among the ruins of the magnificent altar.
Bronn crouches, trembling, yet still standing, blood dripping onto the ground that begins to freeze from Shigure's spell. In the light reflected by the fire, their shadows intertwine in darkness, creating a dramatic contrast between light and dark, making every movement more intense.
"Not… over yet…" "This duel is not about who is eternal, Bronn," Shigure says, his voice hoarse. "It's about who is stubborn enough to stand after all the fires have gone out."
Bronn, though nearly collapsing, raises his hammer once more—but the joints of his left arm explode, the Yamato glyph on Shigure's wound halting all the mechanisms in his body.
Shigure, with the last of his strength, draws Akegiri and delivers a vertical slash to Bronn's chest—deep enough to bring the giant to his knees, the hammer falling to the ground. The atmosphere of the sanctuary, with its grand and high room adorned with finely carved walls, seems to tremble from this brutal battle. The blazing firelight paints large shadows that dance on the beautiful ornaments filling the room, creating a dramatic contrast between life and death. The flames begin to subside around them, yet the red glow that emanates adds depth to the tense atmosphere.
Bronn bows his head, breathing heavily, staring into Shigure's sharp eyes amidst blood and wounds. Around them, the sanctuary's supporting pillars rise high, their tops adorned with carvings of ancient symbols that tell the history of battles. The echoes of footsteps and the sound of metal scraping heighten the intensity of this moment.
"You… are worthy of being called a foe, Shigure of Yamato. This world… will not remember my name… but it will remember you."
Shigure holds his nearly collapsing body, whispering,
"Let the world choose who is worthy to be remembered. Our duty is only to fight until the end."
Bronn smiles bitterly, then his body collapses to the ground, the machines within him ceasing to hum in a kneeling position, the hammer still in his grasp. Within the architectural arrangement of the sanctuary, a series of shattered high windows reflect the firelight, creating an illusion of distorted silhouettes around them.
Shigure stumbles, gazing at the sanctuary sky turned red by fire, then falls to his knees, his breath barely enough for one whisper:
"The name Yamato… the name Oda… is not extinguished yet…"
Shigure's victory over Bronn, though paid dearly with his shattered body, reignites the spirit of the remaining samurai and protector still standing beneath the altar. The Earth forces momentarily retreat, shocked to see their main pillar fall.
Meanwhile, the other Five Pillars realize that human arrogance cannot always overcome legacy, honor, and the determination of a single soul that refuses to succumb to destruction. In the midst of the grand sanctuary, with its moss-covered frozen walls and towering pillars standing like faithful guardians, every movement harmonizes with the echoes of the battle that resonates.
The flickering firelight creates trembling shadows in every corner of the room, reflecting tension and courage. Ancient ornaments carved into the sanctuary walls depict a history full of narratives, merging with the bravery of the samurai who fought beneath its shadows, while the dust and smoke of battle swirl fiercely, adding to the increasingly ominous atmosphere.