"Looks like the candidate for the next avatar has been decided."
After purchasing both the Shadow Troop and the Flügel Elven Corridor, An Xora spoke calmly.
With something as iconic as the Flügel Elven Corridor, there was no need to deliberate over who the next avatar would be.
Naturally, it could only be Jibril, the Flügel's special individual from No Game No Life.
Jibril's strength needed no introduction.
The Flügel were an absurdly powerful race to begin with—previously mentioned as such. Even the weakest Flügel possessed power on a nation-destroying scale. Among the Flügel themselves, Jibril, as a special individual, stood firmly among the very strongest.
Her passive defensive magic allowed her to tank a hydrogen bomb at point-blank range without taking damage.
Her full-speed flight, combined with innate Flügel abilities, could reach 200,000 kilometers per second.
Her full-power attacks were capable of evaporating all four oceans.
Even in the original story—when all her abilities were sealed during a game against the Beastmen—she could still rely on pure physical prowess to fight the strongest Blood-Break individual without falling behind.
With stats this outrageous, she had long surpassed the "nation-buster" category. At minimum, she was operating on a planetary-surface level, and that was with virtually no weaknesses—an all-around, perfectly balanced monster.
Dropped into the One Punch Man world, she could easily sit alongside Boros, Garou, or Orochi as a God-level threat and final boss.
Of course, relying on the Elven Corridor alone was far from enough to fully manifest Jibril.
Her racial talents, her vast array of spells, and her inherent abilities would add up to an enormous cost.
With that in mind, An Xora opened the avatar interface and silently spoke in his mind.
"System, manifest an avatar."
Ding! Manifesting avatar: Jibril requires 50,000 points. Confirm manifestation?
Fifty thousand points.
Adding in the Flügel Elven Corridor—which cost 30,000 points at full price—the total came to 80,000 points, thirty thousand more than the 50,000 points An Xora had spent to manifest Mobius.
The difference was simple.
Mobius's cost lay primarily in her intellect and the vast knowledge she carried.
Jibril's cost was almost entirely due to her raw power.
This was well within An Xora's expectations. His expression did not change as he nodded.
"Confirm."
The Flügel Elven Corridor vanished from the system inventory, and a brilliant white light filled the room.
Within that radiance, a tall, slender figure gradually took shape.
Gradient hair shifting from pale pink to rainbow hues flowed down her back.
Pure white wings like those of an angel spread from her waist.
An irregular halo floated above her head.
Her flawless, sculpted body—like a masterpiece carved by the Creator—was wrapped in a white upper garment and a pale yellow skirt.
When the light faded, the angelic figure opened her eyes.
A terrifying pressure surged outward from her body, rapidly climbing higher and higher. For a brief moment, everyone in Chernobog felt an indescribable sense of oppression—before it vanished just as quickly.
Inside the room, the girl who had just released that overwhelming aura was now kneeling on one knee before An Xora.
Her slender white left hand and her right hand clad in a black silk glove were clasped together. Her wings folded neatly behind her, and her halo shimmered faintly as she spoke in a voice both light and solemn.
"Greetings, my master.
I am Jibril of the Flügel."
"My power, my existence—everything that may serve as the foundation of my master's will belongs to you.
If this body can offer even the smallest, most insignificant contribution to you, it would be my greatest honor."
An Xora nodded.
"You may rise."
"Yes."
At his command, Jibril stood up and floated behind him.
"While adapting to this world's power system just now, I may have caused a bit of disturbance," she added.
"I hope I didn't trouble my master."
"It's nothing worth worrying about," An Xora replied, shaking his head.
"More importantly, Jibril—after adapting to this world's power system, do you feel any change in your strength?"
"No change at all," Jibril answered immediately.
"My power is identical to what I possessed in my original world. There has been no weakening whatsoever."
She understood exactly what An Xora was asking.
In No Game No Life, all races drew power from Spirits, converting them through the Elven Corridor. Under normal circumstances, leaving that world—where Spirits did not exist—would result in her strength being reduced by at least half.
It was similar to a mage from a magical world arriving in a modern world devoid of mana.
Fortunately, the system's adaptive function was more than powerful enough. Even someone on Jibril's level suffered no loss of strength whatsoever.
Just then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps approached the door, followed by a knock.
"Come in."
An Xora, already aware of who stood outside, spoke calmly.
The door opened, and Talulah entered briskly, a stack of documents in her hands.
"Mr. An Xora, did you feel that strange pressure just now?"
Though the aura Jibril released had dissipated quickly, those with real strength—Talulah, FrostNova, Patriot, and others—knew without doubt that it had not been an illusion.
The moment that pressure vanished, Talulah had come straight here to ask An Xora about it.
But the instant she entered the room, she froze.
Behind An Xora stood—no, floated—a figure she had never seen before.
A halo above her head… was she a Lateran?
But why did she have wings?
"There's no need to worry," An Xora explained evenly.
"It was something I caused accidentally. There's no enemy."
Then he gestured toward Jibril.
"This is Jibril. Her relationship to me is similar to Mobius's."
"Hello, Miss Jibril," Talulah greeted her politely.
Jibril returned the gesture with a gentle smile and a nod.
Yet from Jibril's presence alone, Talulah could feel waves of danger that made her body stiffen—an even stronger sensation than what she felt when facing Mobius.
Clearly, this woman named Jibril was no less terrifying than the others surrounding An Xora.
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