Peakwest 2 : Berserk, Blood And Peace

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ 225

ρєαкωєѕт 2 | 𝘼𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙙𝙙 𝙑𝙨 𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙖 2

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The battlefield crackled with tension, the declaration of war fading into the background as all eyes turned to the two figures at its center. Muzan, still grinning like a madman, faced off against Nero, the calm and collected leader of the Walhallas.

Their clash wasn’t one of supernatural abilities or mystical powers, but of human resolve, skill, and willpower pushed to the very edge of what was possible.

Muzan slowly rose, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

He wiped the blood from his lips, the grin never leaving his face.

Muzan: "Nero, you’ve always been so composed. Controlled. I wonder how long that will last."

He tightened his grip on his sword, his aura exuding something darker, more intense. It wasn’t a power, but pure intent—an overwhelming desire to destroy.

Nero’s eyes were fixed on him, unmoving, unreadable. His stance radiated calm, his mastery of every fiber of his body evident to everyone watching. Unlike Muzan, there was no visible bloodlust, no unnecessary aggression. Just precision.

Muzan: "This place… PeakWest… it’s made us both stronger. But the difference is, I’ve embraced the chaos."

Without warning, Muzan lunged, his speed blinding, his blade aimed for Nero’s throat. His movements were swift and erratic, defying traditional combat logic, pushing the limits of human reflexes.

Nero shifted, his body moving with almost mechanical precision. His Force Field technique wasn’t about creating a barrier of mystical energy, but using his awareness of every inch of space around him, predicting the flow of Muzan’s attacks before they even landed. His defense was unyielding, a result of countless battles and a mind sharpened to the highest level.

[ Narrator:

The battle wasn’t about who had the most power—it was about who could push themselves closer to perfection. Muzan, chaotic and feral, relied on instinct and unpredictability, while Nero fought with the precision of a master tactician, using every muscle and thought with purpose. This was PeakWest—a place that demanded more than strength. It required the mind and body to break beyond normal limits. ]

Muzan grinned wider, his sword flashing in the dim light. He spun and attacked from multiple angles, his blade a blur as it sought to bypass Nero’s calm defense.

Muzan: "You can’t dodge forever!"

But Nero didn’t need to dodge. With subtle shifts in his stance and minimal movements, he deflected Muzan’s strikes with his Force Field—an application of his heightened awareness, reading Muzan’s intentions and intercepting his attacks before they could land.

Muzan snarled in frustration, his attacks becoming more reckless. His movements grew faster, but at the cost of his control.

Nero remained calm, analyzing every strike, every opening. He knew Muzan’s strategy—overwhelm with chaos. But that chaos was nothing against the sharp clarity of someone who had trained their mind to the peak.

[ Narrator:

Muzan was not weak. His mind had adapted to embrace the unpredictable, to throw off his opponents with erratic movements and strategies that seemed random but were perfectly calculated to disrupt. He fought like a wild beast, with no hesitation or fear of pain. But Nero was the opposite. He didn’t need to be wild, because his mind operated on pure calculation, pure understanding of the fight. Muzan’s chaos could not penetrate a defense built on mastery. ]

Muzan, now panting slightly, retreated a few steps and grinned again.

Muzan: "I’ll admit, Nero, you’ve always been a tough one. But let’s see how long you can keep that up."

With a roar, Muzan launched himself at Nero once more, this time using everything at his disposal. His body twisted mid-air, his blade slashing in wide arcs, his legs kicking out as he aimed to strike Nero from multiple angles at once.

Nero moved like water, fluid and unbothered. His Force Field—the technique he had honed for years—allowed him to sense Muzan’s attacks almost before they happened. His body was a machine of efficiency, every move calculated to avoid wasting energy.

Then, in one swift movement, Nero countered. As Muzan’s blade came down, Nero stepped into the attack, his hand brushing Muzan’s sword aside with perfect timing. With his other hand, Nero struck, his fist slamming into Muzan’s ribs with the force of a sledgehammer.

Muzan stumbled back, coughing, but his grin never wavered.

Muzan: "You think that’ll be enough? Come on, Nero, let’s see you get serious."

Nero didn’t reply. His expression remained cold, calculating.

[ Narrator:

This was the battle of PeakWest, where strength wasn’t enough. In this place, fighters like Nero and Muzan had pushed their minds and bodies to their absolute limits. The techniques they used weren’t supernatural, but the result of endless struggle and training. Nero’s Force Field wasn’t magic—it was the pinnacle of human awareness, the ability to sense and react to even the slightest movement. Muzan’s chaotic style wasn’t random—it was the peak of instinct, refined through madness and battle. ]

Muzan’s breathing became more labored, but the fire in his eyes burned even hotter. He launched into another attack, faster and stronger than before. His movements blurred, becoming almost impossible to track.

Nero responded in kind. His body moved with precision, his Force Field guiding him through the storm of attacks, deflecting every strike with minimal movement. His counterattacks were sharp, each one landing with devastating accuracy.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to vanish. There was only the clash—the sheer human will driving both fighters beyond their limits.

Then, in a moment of perfect clarity, Nero saw his opening. As Muzan overextended in a wild swing, Nero stepped forward, his hand gripping Muzan’s wrist. With a single, precise motion, he twisted, disarming Muzan and sending him crashing to the ground.

Muzan lay there, panting heavily, glaring up at Nero with defiance in his eyes.

Nero: "It’s over, Muzan."

But before Nero could finish him off, Muzan let out a low chuckle. Nero’s eyes narrowed.

Muzan: "You think you’ve won?"

Suddenly, the ground shook. In an instant, before anyone could react, a blur of movement kicked Nero away from Muzan, sending him skidding across the battlefield.

Everyone froze.

As Nero regained his balance, he looked up, and standing between him and Muzan was a new figure—a young man, his expression cold, his presence commanding.

Nero’s eyes widened slightly in recognition.

Nero: "...Nero?"

Zakura stepped forward from the shadows, his voice filled with surprise.

Zakura giggles.

The battlefield fell silent.

The war was still to come, but for now, all eyes were on this newcomer—the boy who had just saved Muzan.

Chapter End.