The air in the ruined courtyard was no longer cold; it was searing, yet the source was a black flame, utterly devoid of warmth. This strange heat was the only movement, licking at the shadows, pushing back the endless night.
Incinerate Anthem, or the Chief Mourner's Crucified Stand of Purple Flame, was one of the Thirteen Longinus, the highest classification of Sacred Gears. It was a Holy Relic, rumored to be part of the fragments of the True Cross on which Christ was crucified, alongside the True Longinus and the Sephiroth Graal. Incinerate Anthem granted its wielder the ability to create and control powerful purple Holy Fire, a devastating judgment against creatures of darkness often an instant kill for High-Class Devils and even non-Devils.
Or so Berjequel thought.
The flame blazing around that little boy was clearly not the sacred gear Berjequel was familiar with. It was black, a color that tasted of the deepest, most primordial abyss, yet its energy signature was agonizingly holy, pure anti-demonic essence.
"A subspecies Balance Breaker when you just awaken your Sacred Gear… This is astonishing to say the least."
In front of him, the figure of Jay stood unmoving, an empty expression fixed upon his face. Hollow, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, with no soul left to pilot the shell. He was barefoot, the black flame blazing underneath his feet, yet he showed no sign of pain, no sign of life.
His gaze was fixed, not on the devil, but on the Chromed Pendant in his hand. The last remaining connection to Sister Andrea, the woman who had been his mother figure all his life, the only paternal warmth he ever felt in this world. It was all gone now. His family, reduced to impaled, silent figures in the carnage.
Berjequel, momentarily stunned by the transformation, still cradled the unconscious Vali. He had captured the White Dragon Emperor, his main objective secured, but the potential power emanating from Jay was too tempting, too unique to ignore.
"I mean, it's just the same fire at the end of the day. As long as I'm out of range, there should be no problem. A Balance Breaker is taxing. He cannot maintain it for long especially after just awaken it."
Almost all the characteristic of thirteen Longinus are known throughout the supernatural world, as they have a special classification that is unique to each other.
That's also true for Incinerate Anthem which has its unique classification as an Independent-Avatar type Sacred Gear. Its Balance Breaker took on the form of whatever object or being it was fundamentally bound to, manifesting its destructive purple flame through that anchor.
"But, where is the object manifestation?"
The last time Berjequel had faced a wielder of Incinerate Anthem, the Balance Breaker had taken the form of a greatsword, blazing with purple fire. Now, there was nothing. No sword, no spear, no scythe, no traditional cross. Just a boy, standing in the cold moonlight, wreathed in black, destructive flame.
"Yeah, whatever," Berjequel muttered, his devil's pride overcoming his caution. He could not be thwarted by a grief-stricken child. He flung the unconscious Vali aside, momentarily safe on the ground, and let his shadows flow.
A horde of dark spears erupted from the ground, the condensed malice of his Shadow Manipulation, driving towards Jay. They surrounded the unmoving boy, poised to create dozens of holes in his body.
But as the shadow spears came within mere inches of their target, a devastating wall of black fire erupted from Jay's position. It was instantaneous, a flash of utter darkness that devoured light. The shadow spears vanished without a trace, burned into nothingness.
"What!!!"
Berjequel couldn't believe his eyes. That never happened the last time he fight against the wielder of Incinerate Anthem. His shadow burned to nothing, almost instantly.
"How do you even able to burn a shadow? No, this is clearly different. This is no Incinerate Anthem."
Jay remained motionless, his eyes dull, the black flame around him blazing steadily, consuming every tendril of darkness that dared to touch the air near him. The effect was absolute. Any shadow within a three-meter radius of Jay was instantly incinerated, leaving a clean circle of cold, moonlight-bathed stone surrounded by a creeping, aggressive black fire.
Then, the capricious clouds, as if obeying the devil's malice, slid over the moon. Darkness erupted, thick and suffocating, plunging the rest of the ruined courtyard into deep shadow, Berjequel's domain.
Unwilling to risk closing the distance again, Berjequel began a prolonged, destructive assault, leveraging his environment and his remaining power. He was an executioner, not a frontal fighter, but his command over kinetic shadow manipulation was formidable.
He focused his remaining right hand, weaving the surrounding darkness into concrete, physical force. He lifted massive slabs of the chapel wreckage pieces of the stone archway and thick sections of masonry using his shadowy hands and hurled them at inhuman speed towards Jay. They whistled through the air, projectiles of pure, destructive momentum.
The moment the stone fragments crossed the flame's boundary, the result was stunningly consistent and terrifyingly absolute. They were not melted or burned like it supposed to, but violently in a sense atomized.
Turned instantly to dust and smoke by the cold, destructive fire. The black flame flared, consuming the mass and the residual shadow energy within it, before returning to its steady, chilling blaze. The perimeter held flawlessly.
"Impulse attack failed. The flame is acting as a passive, high-density energy field. It's not a barrier; it's an annihilator," Berjequel gritted out, his pale features contorted in concentration. "I need something that moves slower, something that can penetrate the field before full annihilation, or something that attacks the wielder internally."
He switched tactics, resorting to his more esoteric vampiric arsenal. From the deep pockets of shadow beneath the collapsed columns, a swarm of his weakest familiars, skeletal vampire-bats with pinprick red eyes, materialized. They were expendable and fast, moving with erratic, dizzying flight patterns designed to overwhelm.
"Go! Consume him!" Berjequel hissed, directing the swarm towards Jay.
The familiars, composed of partially condensed shadow and negative energy, dove toward the boy in a dense, hissing cloud. They hit the boundary of the black fire. The process was sickeningly swift, the familiars did not just burn, they popped.
Their forms evaporated with faint, dry sounds, their negative energy instantly neutralized and absorbed by the black fire. The air near Jay briefly tasted of sulfur and ozone, the remnants of extinguished malice.
"Negative energy is negated too. I never heard of anything like this, power like this, this flame... its all burning." Berjequel realized, his confidence eroding rapidly. The sheer efficiency of the defense was baffling. Jay wasn't doing anything, still unmoving. But the fire was on autopilot, a passive, total defense.
He looked down at the unconscious Vali, then back at Jay.
"I cannot leave this anomaly. If this child survives, he will be a weapon against all of us devils. I must find the weakness."
Berjequel decided to test the limits of the flame's speed and density. He needed a ranged attack composed of raw, concentrated power, something fast enough to pierce the shield before it reacted. He began weaving the thick shadows of the night into a single, lethal projectile.
His remaining arm stretched out, pulling darkness from every crevice, every corner of the chapel ruins. The shadows condensed into a single, obsidian-black spear, shimmering with kinetic energy and malice, a Shadow Impaler of terrifying density. This was his most focused ranged strike, reserved for neutralizing tough opponents from a distance.
He launched the Impaler. It moved with supersonic speed, a silent, black streak aimed directly at Jay's chest.
It hit the boundary of the flame.
Instead of being annihilated instantly, the Impaler resisted. For a horrifying half-second, the black flame and the shadow spear fought a violent, energetic struggle. The flame burned against the shadow's resistance, the air cracking with the collision of all burning flame and condensed darkness.
Then, with a loud, tearing sound that echoed the very fabric of reality being ripped, the black flame won. The Impaler dissolved, leaving behind a sudden, intense burst of heat. Evaporating the space.
Berjequel felt a sharp sting of pain in his soul. That strike had cost him nearly 75 percent of his remaining power, and it had achieved nothing but confirming the black flame's incredible density.
"It is too powerful! Its reaction time is instantaneous! And the weird thing is, it doesn't even burn the ground, it's as if this flame is just burn the thing its deemed to burn."
His mind was frantic, searching for an exploitable flaw.
'Wait, the Subspecies evolution! The Incinerate Anthem is an Independent-Avatar type! The Balance Breaker manifests as an object or being! Where is the physical manifestation? If I destroy the core object, the power should collapse!' He tought.
He frantically scanned the area, using every spectral sense at his disposal. He looked past the flame, past the boy, into the dimensions of magic and essence. He saw the faint, residual energy of the collapsed Scale Mail, the fading scent of Sister Andrea's divine grace, and the dense, concentrated hatred emanating from Jay.
But he saw no weapon. No shield. No burning cross. Just the boy, standing in his perimeter of annihilation.
"There is no object of manifestation whatsoever! The flame is emenating from fucking everywhere! Is that brat himself the avatar? Or is the avatar manifested only at the point of strike? If the latter, the flame is a simple, passive defense, meaning the boy is harmless offensively unless he moves or summons the weapon!"
Berjequel seized on this possibility. The boy was static, consumed by grief. He had not moved a muscle since the power activated. If Jay was unable or unwilling to use the flame offensively, Berjequel only needed to find a way to wait out the inevitable energy collapse.
He could not retreat due to his pride and the danger. He could not attack directly. The only option left was to attack indirectly, to find a power source the flame could not simply burn.
He switched to a more subtle, venomous assault. Focusing his spiritual energy, Berjequel projected a curse, a subtle, parasitic shadow that sought to cling to the victim's aura and drain their spiritual vitality. It was a slow, insidious attack designed to deplete stamina without triggering a violent reaction.
The parasitic shadow drifted lazily toward Jay. The moment it reached the boundary, the flame did not roar, it simply flickered, a movement so minimal it was barely noticeable. Yet, the parasitic shadow, a non-physical construct, was instantly neutralized and extinguished.
Berjequel slumped, a wave of despair washing over him. The unmoving, black fire was the ultimate guard. It was anti-life, anti-darkness, and anti-magic. Every attempt to engage it, from blunt force to spiritual attack, resulted in the annihilation of his own resources.
"This is not a battle of resources anmore. The flame is the purest form of judgment, consuming everything deemed 'sinful.' It is beyond the power of a child. I must… I must retreat and report this abomination to Lord Rizevim immediately," he thought, his fear finally overriding his pride.
He was a half-devil, a High-Class Executioner, and he was being held at bay by a static, unmoving human child who had just awakened his power. The shame was suffocating.
He lifted his gaze, his remaining left eye burning with venomous intent. He would take one last, absolute risk. He would use his true speed, his power to tear open the veil of space itself, and force the distance.
He glanced at the spot where he had placed Vali, confirming the White Dragon was still safe, an afterthought now to the black flame. He began to condense his energy for a teleportation jump.
And then, rage flared one last time. 'No. I am Berjequel. I will not run from a child. I will kill him!' He tought.
Pride, the fatal flaw of all devils, seized him. He would not teleport away. He would close the distance, relying on sheer speed and the element of surprise, hoping to slip past the flame before it could fully engulf him.
Next, Berjequel used his advanced shadow displacement. He dissolved into the darkness of the ruined archway and attempted to materialize behind Jay, intending to deliver a swift, decisive strike before the boy could react.
He reappeared barely four meters away, just outside the flame's immediate perimeter. He stretched out his clawed hand, condensing his shadow power for a ranged, cutting strike.
The black fire reacted instantly. It did not expand, it simply existed where Berjequel's hand was. The flame, unimaginably hot and consuming, wrapped around the half-devil's right arm.
Sun kissed.
Berjequel screamed, a guttural sound of agony and disbelief. The sensation was not heat, but absolute annihilation. The skin and flesh did not burn away, they were instantly reduced to a black, inert charcoal. There is no pain, its just burned to dust.
He dissolved his form into shadow instantly, escaping the grip of the fire, but his right hand remained behind. It fell to the ground, a smoking, blackened stump, leaving behind a hand-shaped stain of pure ash.
"Impossible! My regeneration!"
Berjequel frantically reformed several meters away, his body screaming in pain. The stump of his right arm, saturated with vampiric devil blood, should have regenerated in seconds. But it didn't. The wound was cauterized by the absolute cold of the black flame, burned into a slick, obsidian charcoal. It was an injury that refused to heal, a mark of judgment.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced Berjequel's vaunted pride. He was facing an entity whose mere presence negated his existence. This was not a power contest, it was an utterly humiliating annihilation.
He hurled his entire remaining reserve of darkness, a massive, swirling vortex of shadow at the unmoving figure. The darkness met the black flame. The fire did not push the shadow back and devoured it, growing fractionally larger and hotter with every particle of absorbed malice.
Berjequel's mind raced through ancient texts and fearful whispers. A flame that burns shadow. A holiness born from utter darkness. Anti-demonic, anti-divine, anti-everything. He knew now this was no mere Longinus. It was a chaotic anomaly.
He felt the undeniable, primal urge to run. His mission was complete and the prize was secured. But his pride, the very foundation of his identity as an executioner for the Pillars, chained him.
"It's just a fucking kid! I'm a Top High-Class Devil! I will not be defeated by an infant!"
Rage, overriding logic, seized him. He abandoned caution, abandoning the logic of distance.
Berjequel exploded into motion, dissolving into a stream of shadows and reforming instantly, closing the distance to just underneath Jay through his shadow. He planned to use his remaining strength for a single, focused strike with his left claw, aiming for the boy's head.
His claw was mere inches from Jay's unmoving face. The black fire flared momentarily, licking the air.
And then, Berjequel saw it.
He saw the unblinking, hollow eyes of the boy. But what emanated from Jay was not the power of a child. It was an aura that was ancient, heavy, dark, and filled with the overwhelming, righteous grief of a million souls. It was the presence of an executioner greater than any devil.
And in the space behind Jay, in the same spot where the Balance Breaker artifact should have manifested, a shape began to coalesce. It was massive, formed from wood as black as sin, and it was burning fiercely, silently, consumed in blazing black flame.
It was an immense wooden cross, charred and ancient, easily six meters tall, imposing itself over the ruins of the chapel. The true anchor of this Subspecies Balance Breaker. And at that moment Berjequel realized that, the object manifestation, is not even physical to begin with. And that where he just cursed his life.
Jay's lips moved. The voice that emerged was deep, echoing, carrying the infinite sorrow of the abyss. It was not the voice of Zayyn Kovalenko, the orphaned boy. It was the voice of the Judge.
"True Cross."
The word was the final command.
The black fire surged outward, enveloping Berjequel completely.
The devil screamed, not in pain, but in sheer terror as his existence was unraveled. The flame was not just burning his body. It was consuming his very essence, his shadow, his devil blood, and his stolen vampiric vitality, leaving absolutely nothing behind. It was judgment without mercy.
In a terrifying, silent fraction of a second, the mighty High-Class Devil, Berjequel the Cruel, was annihilated. He dissolved into a fine, black dust, which was itself instantly consumed by the flame.
The black fire flared one last time, reaching its peak of intensity, before it began to recede. Jay stood alone amidst the ruin and the dead, the massive black cross fading from the air behind him.
There was no joy, no triumph, in Jay's hollow eyes. Only profound sorrow and endless regret. He looked at the bodies of his family, at Sister Andrea's lifeless face, at the pendant clutched in his hand.
A single, hot tear finally escaped the perimeter of the black flame and traced a path down his cheek. As the tear struck the ground, Jay's eyes fluttered shut. The black flame vanished completely. His entire body, having utilized a Subspecies Balance Breaker for mere seconds, was utterly drained. The backlash of the power was absolute, pulling his energy reserves beyond zero.
Jay collapsed onto the blood-soaked earth, his small heart stopping.
***
The battle was over. The night was silent, save for the crackling of wood from the smoldering debris and the gentle wind. The air, though still carrying a strange, faint chill, was breathable once more.
Hours passed. The moon crossed the apex of the sky, its silvery light bathing the grotesque scene. The bodies of the children, the woman, and the boy lay still in the ruins.
Just before dawn, a figure materialized in the center of the devastated chapel grounds.
It was a tall man, appearing to be in his late twenties, with an average, lean build. He had black hair, a distinctive golden streak in his bangs, and a neatly trimmed black goatee. This was Azazel, one of the leaders of the Fallen Angel faction, Grigori, renowned for his strategic intellect and his obsession with Sacred Gears.
He observed the scene, the pulverized stone, the jagged hole in the chapel wall, the eerie stillness of the air, and the numerous dead bodies.
The sight immediately confirmed his prediction, a supernatural conflict had occurred here.
Azazel bent, inspecting the massacre. Even hours later, he could still feel the faint remnants of demonic power, which is Berjequel's signature. But also an astonishingly faint, dark, ancient power. It was familiar, yet distant, a chaotic energy signature that momentarily piqued his curiosity.
He inspected the human corpses. He noted the chilling pattern of their deaths, a clear act of malice rather than combat. He moved to Jay, noting the boy's lack of breathing and pulse, confirming death.
He finally reached Vali, lifting the limp, pale body of the White Dragon Emperor. Vali's condition was severe, not only depleted of energy but poisoned by a strange, residual venom that seemed to be actively suppressing his recovery.
"The boy is nearly dead. Good thing I tracked Albion's faint energy here when the Balance Breaker activated."
The Fallen Angel leader mentally shrugged off the anomalous energy signature. His main initial goal was complete, secure the volatile Longinus user before he fell into the hands of the devils or the other factions.
Azazel, gathering the unconscious Vali over his shoulder, surveyed the silent scene one last time. He felt a lingering sense of unease, a feeling that this was not a simple murder scene, but the birth of something terrifying. Shrugging off the feeling, he teleported away, vanishing into a flash of faint light as he teleported.
Not long after, silence returned to the courtyard.
Then, from the center of Jay's still body, a black flame, thin and thread-like, began to emanate, rising from his chest.
Jay slowly opened his eyes.