Under the blood-red sky, the projected forms of the Demon Kings looking down upon all living things formed a bizarre standoff with that tiny yet stubborn human figure.
The air was thick with the foul, scorched stench of sulfur mixed with resentment.
The first to break this dead silence was the Demon King of Desire, Slan.
Her alluring figure twisted slightly in the air, her long, narrow eyes swirling with a charm potent enough to drive all males in the world mad.
But at this moment, hidden deep within that charm was the most vicious killing intent.
She did not opt for a physical attack.
For a warrior like Guts, whose will had been forged a thousand times over by hatred, pure pain would only make him stronger.
She had to strike from the inside, targeting the softest, most fragile part of his soul.
Slan parted her red lips, exhaling a wisp of pink breath carrying a sickly sweet fragrance that ordinary people could not see.
That breath ignored the distance of space and the violent magnetic field shield surrounding Guts, silently drilling into his mind.
Boom!
The gory, hellish landscape before Guts's eyes instantly vanished.
In its place was a familiar grassy field lit by a warm campfire.
His comrades from the Band of the Hawk sat around the fire. Judeau was playing the lute, while Pippin and Corkus were arm wrestling, letting out bursts of hearty laughter.
Everything was exactly the same as that most beautiful night in his memory.
Suddenly, a figure gently leaned against him from behind.
That familiar body heat and the faint fragrance in her hair caused Guts's entire body to stiffen.
It was Casca.
He slowly turned his head.
But what he saw was a tear-stained face, her eyes weeping blood.
"Guts."
Casca's phantom spoke, her voice hoarse and filled with endless agony and resentment.
"Why didn't you protect everyone?"
"Why did you let me endure such pain?"
"Where... where were you!"
Every word viciously pierced Guts.
Guilt, self-blame, remorse.
These emotions, which he had forcibly suppressed with anger and hatred, were infinitely magnified under the catalyst of Slan's power, threatening to crush his will.
Guts's burly frame began to tremble violently and uncontrollably.
His pupils, burning with golden flames, began to flicker erratically.
He opened his mouth, wanting to explain, wanting to apologize, but he couldn't make a sound.
Just as his will was about to be completely washed away by this dark torrent.
An absolute, icy, and emotionless rational will occupied his mind—it was the absolute will belonging to the Martial God.
The trace of struggle and pain in Guts's eyes vanished without a trace in an instant.
In its place was only boundless anger and infinite battle intent.
He slowly raised his head, coldly staring at the phantom of Casca weeping blood before him.
"Only the weak wallow in the past,"
his voice rasped, devoid of any warmth.
"Right now, all I need is power!"
Before his words even settled, he threw his right punch.
That fist, wrapped in golden light, contained an unparalleled, domineering will.
Bang!
Casca's phantom, along with the entire warm campfire illusion, instantly shattered into countless fragments.
What was even more terrifying was that this domineering will did not dissipate after shattering the illusion.
It followed the invisible connection forged by Slan's power, eroding its way back to the source.
"Ah—!"
In the blood-red sky, Slan's alluring body violently shuddered as she let out a scream filled with agony.
Fine cracks began to spread across her projected body made of energy.
With the greatest shackle in his heart shattered by his own hands.
Guts felt that the invisible barrier that had been binding him all this time had completely vanished.
The surging, roaring magnetic field power within him, like a beast breaking free from its cage, experienced another explosive surge.
Six Hundred and Fifty Thousand Horsepower!
Seven Hundred Thousand Horsepower!
Seven Hundred and Twenty Thousand Horsepower!
The skyrocketing power even caused the surrounding space to warp under the overwhelming pressure.
Finally, it reached Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Horsepower!
Rumble—!
An even more dazzling, purer golden light erupted from Guts's body, forming a pillar of light that pierced the heavens and the earth.
Nourished by this even greater power, his body, which had been covered in cracks from his forced breakthroughs, completely healed in an instant.
His newly formed skin gleamed with a metallic luster. Every inch of muscle and every bone seemed to be forged from the hardest substance in the universe.
An immortal, indestructible divine radiance emanated from him, illuminating this filthy, blood-red domain with a sacred golden hue.
"Oh?"
Outside the battlefield, Ian, who had been admiring all this as a spectator, curled the corners of his lips slightly.
"To think he broke through to Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Horsepower so quickly, and even touched the threshold of Perfect Compatibility."
At this moment, the situation completely reversed.
Having reached Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Horsepower, Guts's strength underwent an earth-shattering qualitative change.
He was no longer passively enduring attacks.
He slowly raised his head, his eyes burning with pure golden flames locking onto the God Hand members in the sky.
The next second, his figure vanished from where he stood.
"Watch out!"
Void issued a warning, but it was already too late.
Guts's figure appeared behind the Demon King Conrad.
It was a bloated, obese, and disgusting entity, seemingly piled together from countless tumors and pustules.
Faced with this sudden attack, Conrad instinctively unleashed his strongest authority—Rotting Plague.
An endless, foul-smelling green aura erupted from his body, transforming into a plague torrent capable of turning an entire continent into a wasteland as it swallowed toward Guts.
However, Guts didn't even spare it a glance.
He viciously swung his left fist.
This punch seemed ordinary, yet it contained Guts's world-shocking wisdom!
The moment the fist made contact with the plague torrent, the terrifying plague was actually shattered to pieces.
Immediately after, the golden fist continued unabated, ruthlessly striking Conrad's massive and fleshy body.
Boom—!
Conrad's body violently exploded from the inside.
Green blood and foul-smelling chunks of flesh splattered madly in all directions.
With just a single punch, a member of the God Hand was blown to pieces on the spot.
The other God Hand members wanted to retreat, wanting to put distance between them.
But Guts's figure teleported and vanished once more. This time, he appeared right in front of Slan.
"It was you who tried to shake me with illusions?"
Guts's voice was bone-chillingly cold.
He threw a punch straight at Slan's head.
Right at that moment, a spatial rift opened without warning in front of Guts's fist, attempting to block the punch and sever his arm in the process.
It was Void making a move.
However, Guts had anticipated this.
During the battle just now, Guts's control over his power was becoming increasingly perfect.
The complex combat memories of the Martial God were rapidly merging with his own, and the Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Horsepower was now completely under his control.
He twisted his fist, and an even more violent magnetic field power erupted, forcefully prying open the closing spatial rift from the inside before punching right through it.
The domineering intent of the punch even traveled backward through the spatial connection, viciously striking a certain entity in a higher dimension.
"Ugh!"
Void, who had been hiding behind the scenes, let out a painful, muffled groan.
Guts had forcefully punched Void out of the higher-dimensional space. Just as he prepared to press his advantage and completely obliterate these God Hand members...
A white figure abruptly blocked his path.
It was Griffith.