"Who are you?!" Katarea shrieked in outrage, eyes wild and frantic. "Just Who the hell ARE YOU?!"
She couldn't understand it, she refused to. This wasn't possible. A human shouldn't be capable of this. Not this level of slaughter. Not this level of power. A being of this caliber should have been a known quality, not some unknown man with a casual, bored expression.
Her gaze tore from Kenji and darted around the immediate battlefield, and her stomach lurched.
Bodies. Her entire forward wave of followers, magicians, low and mid class devils, the yōkai that came with her, and even a handful of seasoned high-class renegades, most were gone already.
They were reduced to a smoking, compressed smear of organic matter or cleanly pulverized by the terrifying gravity bullets. It was an astonishing display of power. The sight of their complete annihilation solidified her terror and rage for this mere mortal man.
Just who in the burning depths of the Underworld was this Kenji Takahashi? Someone of this power should have been known, dammit! How had the entire supernatural world overlooked such a person? They should have taken him seriously after the report from Kokabiel's failure.
She tore her eyes from the carnage just in time, too. Azazel struck, using the moment of her distraction to blast toward her. He was a blur, his light lance aimed for a lethal, quick end. She reacted, barely, channeling her demonic power into a massive surge of orange energy.
It was a chaotic blast of Magic that knocked him back, but Azazel sidestepped the bulk of the raw force with an irritatingly smooth, almost casual movement.
"Well now," Azazel said with a wry grin, dust settling off his black wings, "isn't this a surprise."
He acted nonchalant, but inside his mind was spinning at impossible speeds, trying to analyze who or what Kenji is, Kenji's previous attack pattern, and the residual energy signature.
'Has he grown stronger?' he thought to himself. He was certain of the man's power when they first met, placing him at low Ultimate Class, but now, the raw pressure emanating from Kenji was a whole other tier, bordering on satan Devil territory. 'Just what did he do to himself?'
He was nearing Azazel, power. Azazel still held the advantage in raw and theoretical magical power due to his Cadre existence, but he knew without a doubt that if he engaged Kenji directly now, he would lose.
How could a person change so much in such a short amount of time? He had been keeping a close eye on the human, but even now, he saw no signs of a Sacred Gear, no divine blessing, no ritualistic body modification, yet what else could explain it? The very thought was a puzzle for the leader of the Fallen Angels.
'That was for later.' For now, he had a traitorous devil wannabe to break.
He snapped his fingers, and from his palm emerged a short spearhead attached to a metal grip. At its top, a golden-glowing purple orb pulsed.
Katarea's eyes widened. "What is that?!"
"Something much more interesting than war," he said, looking at it with a scientist's pride. "Call it my hobby."
He raised it high above his head, the artifact humming violently as it drew in ambient magical energy.
"This is the Downfall Dragon Spear," he announced, the spear now glowing, its energy pulsing. "It's an artificial Sacred Gear developed by yours truly."
He turned serious, the wry smile gone. "Balance Break."
The light flashed, intense and momentary, and when it faded, he stood encased in radiant golden and royal purple armor. The Balance Breaker was a sleek, aerodynamic shell built for speed and redirection.
"Armor of the Fallen Dragon, Downfall Dragon Another Armor."
Azazel flexed the suit, feeling the reinforced strength and the enhanced magical circulation, before summoning a light lance, not a simple spear of light, but a solidified, orange-yellow construct that hummed with power. He pointed it directly at Katarea. "Now, come here," he gestured to her.
She growled, screaming in sheer, unbridled fury before charging. "I'll kill you!"
They rushed at each other. Katarea was a whirlwind of raw, untamed Destruction. She unleashed a torrent of massive orange blasts, each one large enough to obliterate a city block, aimed at overwhelming him with sheer volume, desperate to land a hit and end the fight quickly.
Azazel, however, was a master of defensive and offensive precision, honed by countless battles and scientific study. Utilizing a burst of speed far beyond Katarea's own, Azazel sliced past her guard.
The light lance, carved across Katarea's torso, cutting deeply into her flesh and tearing through her protective demonic aura. A sharp scream of pain and disbelief tore from her throat as blood sprayed in arcs. The pain forced her back, her eyes blazing with renewed hatred as she sharply turned and retaliated with a counter-blast that Azazel merely sidestepped, letting the explosion shred the reinforced courtyard wall behind him into dust.
Creuserey Asmodeus seemed to be doing far better than his increasingly battered partner. He was fighting on a different scale entirely. Michael and Baraqiel were putting up a fierce, coordinated fight, but it was clear that even their combined power struggled to contain the traitor.
Creuserey, after integrating the cursed snake fragments he'd received from Ophis, was intoxicated by the power coursing through his body, an overwhelming cocktail of his innate demonic potential and the chaotic might of the Dragon God of Infinity.
"This power is mine!" Creuserey hissed, his voice echoing with distorted pride. "I—Asmodeus's blood—DESERVE this!"
He was highly mobile, moving in erratic, hard-to-track bursts of speed. He utilized powerful Devil magic, amplified by Ophis's chaotic essence, which manifested as dark, coiling energy.
Michael, the Seraph, was forced entirely onto the defensive, relying on massive, interlocking shields of Seraphic Light that strained and cracked under the traitor's relentless, chaotic assault.
Michael channeled his Holy power into a pure protective defense, utilizing the System of the Four Great Seraphs to continuously regenerate the defensive structures, only risking a direct strike with a Holy Sword construct when he saw an absolute opening, preferring to focus on protecting the surrounding ground and avoiding collateral damage.
Baraqiel, the Fallen Angel Cadre, fared slightly better. Lightning crackled across his massive black wings as he launched bolts of concentrated, devastating power, attempting to pin Creuserey down.
But the Ophis boost made Creuserey too fast and often changing his trajectory mid-flight, making him impossible to lock down.
"You're strong, Archangel," Creuserey mocked, unleashing a continuous wave of dark energy that struck Michael, slamming him deep into the newly formed crater. "But too restrained! You rely on those pathetic light tricks when I hold the true essence of chaos!"
'He's going mad,' Kenji thought to himself as he watched the fight.
He didn't care that Katarea was losing. If she was weak enough to lose to Azazel, she didn't deserve to be a descendant of a Devil King.
He focused his malicious intent, drawing more power from the snakes within. The air around him turned oppressive as he funneled massive power into a single, terrifying blast, aiming to end Michael and Baraqiel in one go.
He knew they were wounded, forced to rely on pure defense. He smiled darkly as He blasted both his opponents again with a massive, targeted wave of dark, pulsing magic, forcing them to shield desperately, before soaring triumphantly into the sky.
His massive wings spread wide as he stared down at Michael and Baraqiel, who stood battered in the smoking crater that had formed under them. He then rained a devastating volley of clustered spells down upon them.
Just then, the wave of temporal power that had caused the time-stop began to fade. The heavy, magical atmosphere started to lighten, the subtle humming of Gasper's exhausted power dissipating.
Katerea and Creuserey flew back, standing side by side, their attacks ceasing instinctively as the reality of the situation came crashing back. The time-stop had finally come to an end, and the battle was about to be reset.
'Guess they saved the little vampire,' Kenji thought, a smile appearing on his face. 'Good, good.'
There was something he had wanted to unleash since they all decided to come to his city, but the time stop earlier was stopping him.
Now? Now he could.
He watched the skirmish for another few seconds before the ground started to rumble, deep and insistent, a terrifying, unnatural growl from the earth itself.
Everyone paused, their eyes darting around the area, the sound of the footsteps getting louder and louder by the minute.
RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE
Then—
"...What…?" Rias whispered, her voice barely a breath.
"S-Son of a—" Azazel murmured, the light of his Balance Breaker armor dimming slightly as he stared in disbelief.
Dozens, no, Hundreds, of figures emerged from every direction, pouring into the combat zone.
Stone Golem. Metal Golem. Evolved Golem Knights.
A massive army of constructs marched out from the shadows, from alleyways. They were not made of flesh and blood, but pure, heavy materials, earth, iron, and a cold, contained magical energy. They were his personal, automated military force, created through his System's crafting and materialization capabilities.
A wave of cohesive, focused killing intent radiated from all of them, the collective will of an army ready to obey a single master.
Sona's face drained of color. Sirzech froze, his usual composure gone. The faction leaders all stared in disbelief at the sheer scale and synchronized nature of the deployment.
"K-Kenji-san…?" Akeno whispered, recognizing the unique.
He raised one finger.
Every golem stopped instantly in perfect, unnerving stillness.
Then he flicked it toward the surviving enemy forces, the scattered high-class devils and remaining Khaos Brigade members.
"Finish them off."
The constructs surged forward like a tidal wave.
It was no longer a fight. It was an extermination. The golems attacked with brutal efficiency, tearing through shields, spells, and flesh without pause or mercy.
Azazel stared, no longer with amusement, but with a professional, tactical awe at the sheer size and coordinated efficiency of the deployment. 'He created all this? How did he have the time? Where were they?'
Michael's expression tightened into a grim line.
Azazel looked like he wanted to swear, his control slipping for a moment as he realized the sheer political and military nightmare that this human represented.
Serafall's mouth hung open, watching the complete obliteration of the enemy forces by a non-flesh-and-blood army.
Kenji watched the slaughter with the casual disinterest of a man observing ants clean up a spill.
This was his message. This was what he wanted them to see.
A one-man faction. A one-man army.
———————————————————
If you want to read ahead and access 30 advanced chapters, check the patreon. $4 Dollars
Link:patreon/Phantomking785