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On the ground below.
Countless demons poured from fissures in the earth, howling with suicidal abandon as they charged headlong into the tidal wave of angels crashing toward them.
The angelic army moved like precision killing machines. Even when demons pierced through them, their expressions never changed. They raised their holy swords and severed demon heads with mechanical efficiency.
Angels and demons slaughtered each other without pause.
If not for the obvious wings on the angels, it would have been nearly impossible to tell which side was demonic and which was divine.
And in the sky above.
Hawk—clad in the Black Phoenix Surplice, wreathed in black Phoenix flames—gazed calmly at the six-winged being before him.
The six-winged creature wore armor of radiant holy light. Three pairs of wings beat behind him, each stroke scattering brilliance bright enough to blind. In his hand, he gripped a sword of pure golden light.
His features were flawless. The blade of light pointed directly at Hawk. When he spoke, his voice resonated like a choir of millions—solemn, majestic, yet cold enough to freeze Hell's magma solid.
"I AM MICHAEL."
"..."
Hawk heard the six-winged being announce himself and raised an eyebrow.
Michael?
The legendary Archangel.
As the thought crossed Hawk's mind, the six-winged being—no, Michael—spoke again. His voice was a cacophony of a million souls' laments blended with sacred hymns, making the very fabric of space hum.
"Heretic who consorts with demons—only purification can cleanse your sins."
"You think you can?"
Hawk snapped back to attention, looking at Michael who had just declared his intent to "purify" him. Beneath the faceplate, his exposed eyes flickered with black Phoenix Fire. "Did I mention I chopped up your master right before coming here?"
Michael's golden pupils contracted.
"JUDGMENT!"
Michael's blade swept toward Hawk.
This wasn't a physical strike. It was a torrent of the purest energy imaginable, carrying the will of divine judgment. Wherever the flood passed, space itself screamed as it tore apart.
Hawk's right fist answered.
"Lightspeed—FIST!!"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!
Phoenix after phoenix—black as midnight—erupted from Hawk's knuckles, colliding with Michael's tsunami of energy. The impact sent tremors through the entire Hell dimension.
The next moment, A catastrophic explosion detonated.
The shockwave born from the collision of energies howled outward in all directions, hammering down toward the battlefield below.
CRASH!
On the ground, as the shockwave descended, the angels and demons locked in combat directly beneath Hawk and Michael were torn apart without discrimination—reduced to bloody mist. Even the earth itself seemed pressed down by invisible hands, sinking three meters into the ground.
Hawk and Michael were both sent hurtling backward by the blast.
The next instant!
Michael's six wings spread fully. Then they beat once—hard—and countless searing white feathers shot toward Hawk like a storm of divine arrows.
"Accept holy judgment!"
"Judge THIS!"
Simple trash talk. Maximum satisfaction.
Hawk had already stabilized himself mid-flight. He crossed his arms before his chest, Cosmo blazing. A dark Phoenix materialized from his fists, spreading its wings and soaring.
"Phoenix Wings Rise!"
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!
A dark crimson flood of energy collided with Michael's blazing white torrent in mid-air. The two forces clashed, exploded, and sent ring-shaped shockwaves rippling outward in endless succession.
The entire Hell dimension shook and trembled.
Below, Mephisto—clutching his bleeding wounds—watched Hawk battle Michael overhead. His expression was a complicated mixture of heartache and joy.
Heartache because this was his turf getting wrecked.
Joy because Hawk had actually kept his word. The moment he learned his ally was in trouble, he'd flown all the way from Earth to provide backup.
All things considered!
Mephisto roared with excitement.
"HAWK! YOU'VE GOT THIS! KILL THAT BIRD!"
"SHUT UP!"
Hawk—still locked in aerial combat with Michael—heard Mephisto's battlefield cheerleading. Remembering La Magra's warnings, he instinctively thought Mephisto was joining the fight. His focus wavered for just a split second—
And Michael seized the opening.
SPLURT!
The Sword of Light—forged from a billion souls—sliced across Hawk's right arm, punching through the armor and drawing blood that gleamed faintly gold.
Hawk retreated instantly. He glanced down at Mephisto—who was still shouting encouragement—and snapped at him.
The one-horned Mephisto shut up immediately.
Hawk turned back to Michael, who hovered with his Sword of Light lowered, six wings beating steadily.
If the three four-winged angels Hawk had just killed were equivalent to Bronze Saints infinitely approaching Silver Saint level—
Then this six-winged Archangel Michael was infinitely approaching Gold Saint level.
Combat power roughly equal to Hawk without his Cosmo fully unleashed.
But—
Even "infinite" had degrees.
If Hawk at full Cosmo burn approached 99.9% Gold Saint level—just one step from awakening the Seventh Sense—
Then Michael was hovering around 90% at best.
So!
Yes.
Hawk had been burning his Cosmo, but he hadn't gone all out.
Because he still suspected this entire spectacle was Mephisto and Yahweh putting on a show for his benefit.
Just like La Magra had described—how he'd foolishly trusted Mephisto's words, only to be ambushed and killed by Mephisto and Yahweh working together.
So even as Hawk fought Michael, his Sixth Sense had been probing that giant floating sword. And just now—the moment Mephisto had shouted his encouragement—Hawk's Sixth Sense had detected something deep within Michael's soul. A familiar essence. One he'd encountered not long ago. Still fresh in his memory.
It had thrown him off for a split second.
That was why Michael's blade had connected.
But now?
Hawk locked eyes with Michael. Beneath the faceplate, his exposed gaze flickered with mockery.
"Should I call you Michael?"
"Or should I call you—"
"La Magra?"
Michael's six wings beat gently. His golden eyes lowered, glancing at the blood staining his Sword of Light. Hearing Hawk's words, that perfect face curved into a mocking smile of its own. Then his wings folded, and he plummeted toward Hawk like a meteor.
"Heretic—accept holy judgment!"
"Sacred Blade!"
Michael led with his sword, velocity like a shooting star. Man and blade seemed to merge into one, aimed directly at Hawk's heart, intent on piercing through.
Hawk neither dodged nor retreated.
The instant Michael's blade tip was about to touch him, the black flames wreathing Hawk's body detonated outward. His Cosmo pulsed with strange fluctuations. His right hand seemed to pierce through spacetime itself, index finger striking Michael's forehead.
"Embrace your fear!"
"Phoenix Phantom Demon Fist!"
DUANG!
An intangible, formless torrent—condensed from countless agonies, despairs, hatreds, and madnesses—exploded from Hawk's fingertip. It shattered Michael's mental barriers instantly and detonated within the depths of his soul.
Within those golden eyes, Michael saw visions of Heaven's fall. The extinction of holy light. Countless angels plummeting from the sky. The deepest fears buried in his very soul—fears he never dared to contemplate.
Under the Phoenix Phantom Demon Fist, those infinite terrors were amplified infinitely.
Michael froze—just as Hawk had frozen when Mephisto's shout distracted him. A fatal pause.
And Hawk caught it.
The next second.
Hawk's pointing finger withdrew and clenched into a fist. The projection of a black Phoenix manifested behind him. Man and Phoenix merged perfectly—and he threw what appeared to be a simple, unremarkable punch.
"Phoenix Wings Rise!"
His fist drove straight at Michael's Sword of Light. The blade shattered on impact. The fist didn't slow—it hammered directly into Michael's gleaming armor.
CRACK!!
The sound of Michael's holy armor fracturing was crisp enough to break hearts.
But—
The fist didn't stop. It pressed forward, punched through Michael's armor, and woke Michael from his nightmare.
Michael's cold golden pupils dropped, contracting rapidly as he watched the fist buried in his chest—the fist now gripping a painfully familiar beating heart, dripping with golden blood.
"This is..."
"My heart."
Michael murmured to himself. Then his six radiant wings began to wilt. Feathers crumbled and scattered. Even his body started turning translucent.
The next moment.
Flesh dead, soul immortal—Michael's holy spirit transformed into a streak of light the instant his body faded. It shrieked skyward, trying to flee Hell.
An angel's soul that lingered too long in Hell would be corrupted by its essence, eventually becoming a fallen angel.
But just as Michael's soul was about to reach the edge of the Hell dimension—
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The Underworld's projection appeared. A dark Phoenix opened its eyes. And amid Michael's piercing screams, the soul that had delivered itself right to the doorstep was dragged into the Underworld's Blazing Prison.
At the same moment!
CRACK!
Hawk turned to look. With Michael's death, the colossal sword floating above the Hell dimension developed a fissure. The crack spread at visible speed, racing across the blade's entire surface.
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The sword shattered. And with its destruction, the holy aura that had been suppressing Hell's power vanished in an instant.
"ROAR!"
"KILL THEM ALL!"
"KEHEHEHEH!"
With Hell's power no longer suppressed, the tide of battle reversed instantly.
Now it was the angelic army's turn to flee.
But the angels didn't run.
They continued trying to slaughter demons—moving like cold, unfeeling machines.
The angelic army sang their hymns.
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~# 70 Advanced Chapters Available on my Patreon!
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~# Bonus Chapter every 300PS