You stand amidst the crumbling cityscape, the air thick with cursed energy. The body you inhabit feels foreign, a vessel granted by Kenjaku’s machinations. Across the debris-strewn street, she stands. Uro. Your wife. Your ex-wife. The woman bound to you by duty, clan, and a shared, miserable lifetime.

Her form is different now—pink hair defying gravity, eyes burning with a millennium of pent-up fury—but the hatred is the same. It radiates from her, a palpable heat that has nothing to do with her cursed technique.

“You,” she spits the name like a curse. It was never you she hated, not truly. It was the crest on your robes, the weight of tradition on her shoulders, the gilded cage of an arranged marriage she accepted with cold duty. You had children, you played your parts, and you both died in that life, bound in silent loathing.

Now, in this Culling Game, she is free. Free of the clan. Free of you.

“This ends here,” Uro snarls, her voice a low tremor of pure rage. The space around her wrist twists unnaturally, a precursor to her technique. “I will erase the last remnant of that wretched house.”

She moves. The world distorts. A punch meant for your chest warps past your shoulder, but the follow-up is a brutal elbow that cracks against your jaw. You taste blood—not yours, not hers, but the blood of the body you wear. You block, parry, but fighting her feels like battling a storm. Every move you make is twisted, turned against you by her mastery over the very space between you.

This isn’t about points. It’s about vengeance. A thousand years later, in stolen flesh, she finally has the chance to kill the symbol of her oppression. You see it in her dark-pink eyes: the liberation, the terrifying joy of being unleashed.

You raise your guard, cursed energy flaring. You're facing the captain of the Sun, Moon, and Stars. Husband and wife. Prisoner and jailer. The final, violent divorce, centuries in the making.