Down on the street, the five identical copies of Meliodas smirked at each other. Everything was conveyed perfectly without a single word.
The five clones kicked off the shattered asphalt, charging like golden missiles toward the enemies hovering in the sky.
Aura's mismatched eyes flashed with deep worry as she looked at her master's back, wanting to speak but hesitating. Meliodas was not an easy opponent to deal with. Mare had only tentatively exchanged one single blow with him, yet both of the young dark elf's arms, tightly gripping the [Shadow of Yggdrasil], were still trembling from the kinetic impact. Of course, this was partly due to elves not being naturally specialized in raw physical strength, but the fact remained: the blonde human was a monster.
And now, seeing that monster effortlessly split into five...
"No need to worry, Aura," Ainz Ooal Gown's deep voice resonated, cutting through the tension. "Nazarick will never lose!"
Although he didn't turn around, the Supreme Being seemed to have sensed Aura's panicked expression and confidently reassured her. The reason for Ainz's confidence was simple: after this prolonged period of apocalyptic conflict, the 'Emotional Value' currency he had accumulated from the world's terror had stored up immensely. It was more than enough for him to interface with his system and exchange for a World Item capable of instantly turning the tide of battle, should it become necessary.
Just as the five Meliodas clones closed the distance, the air warped violently.
The figures of two high-tier Guardians suddenly materialized in the sky right in front of Ainz. Shalltear and Demiurge had returned just in time.
CLANG! CLANG!
Two crisp, deafening sounds of divine weapons clashing echoed across the skyline.
Shalltear's [Spuit Lance] viciously parried the strike of one clone. At the exact same microsecond, Demiurge activated [Aspect of the Devil: Razor Claws], his elongated, metallic talons successfully blocking another clone's descending blade.
The remaining three clones bypassed the vanguard, charging directly toward Ainz, but they were immediately entangled and blocked by a massive wall of magical, spiked vines summoned by Aura and Mare.
Because his raw power level was equally divided among the five clones by the magic of Lostvayne, Meliodas's inherent physical strength in each body was currently a fraction of his true maximum. The clones blocked by Shalltear and Demiurge only locked blades for a brief moment before being violently flung backward by the overwhelming physical stats of the Level 100 Guardians.
"Was it you?!" Shalltear screamed, her crimson eyes blazing as her beautiful features twisted into her horrific, lamprey-like Blood Valkyrie form. "Are you the one who killed Albedo?!"
Her anger was entirely undisguised. The razor-sharp tip of the Spuit Lance rested millimeters from the clone's neck, poised to strike.
Upon hearing this, the Meliodas clone showed absolutely no awareness of being at a tactical disadvantage. Facing the lethal threat of the divine lance, he just smiled confidently.
"Are you referring to that female knight in the black armor?" Meliodas asked cheerfully. "Yeah, I killed her."
With a shriek of pure rage, Shalltear thrust her lance forward with blinding, lethal speed.
"Full Counter!"
The tip of the lance did not pierce Meliodas's throat. Instead, the magical force of the strike was instantly rebounded. The doubled kinetic shockwave blasted back up the shaft of the weapon, sending the incredibly powerful vampire staggering wildly backward through the air.
"Let's begin," Meliodas grinned, twirling his short sword. "Round Two!"
Meanwhile, on the other side of the aerial battlefield, the clone that Demiurge had swept away recovered mid-air. The two immediately engaged in a fierce, high-speed confrontation.
Sparks flashed incessantly across the sky. It was a blistering clash between Demiurge's razor-sharp demonic claws and the legendary blade of the Demon Sword Lostvayne.
Seeing that his physical strikes were being flawlessly parried, Demiurge leaped backward, creating distance. His elongated claws retracted, returning to normal, gloved hands, and he calmly adjusted his round glasses.
"This gentleman," Demiurge began, his tone polite but laced with venom. "With your extraordinary abilities, why would you ever degrade yourself to become an accomplice to humanity? You... don't seem to be human yourself, do you?"
"Accomplice?" Meliodas retorted, resting the broad side of Lostvayne on his shoulder. "I simply don't approve of your actions of dragging innocent civilians into your war."
Demiurge's eyes narrowed behind his lenses.
'Damn it,' Demiurge thought, his brilliant, demonic mind cursing the situation. 'This is the absolute most troublesome type of opponent. He's actually a so-called hero.'
Demiurge's initial idea of using logic and benefit to persuade the boy to surrender vanished completely. Nazarick's ruthless, pragmatic way of doing things would be fundamentally incompatible with a being whose morality forced him to protect the weak.
"[Aspect of the Devil: Stout Demon's Arm]!"
Words were useless. Demiurge's right arm rapidly expanded, tearing through his tailored suit sleeve as it swelled into a massive, muscular, grotesque demonic limb. He swiftly lunged toward Meliodas, launching a devastating haymaker.
Demiurge's attack was incredibly fast. It was completely too late to dodge.
Meliodas brought the broad side of Lostvayne up to block. Although he successfully caught the strike, his divided, clone-state body was pushed back repeatedly by the overwhelming kinetic force of the giant fist. The power transmitted through the demon sword threw Meliodas off-balance, leaving him struggling to stand firm in the air.
And Demiurge, a master tactician, had already seized the opening.
"[Aspect of the Devil: Tentacle Wings]!"
Hovering in mid-air, Demiurge spread his leathery demonic wings. Countless razor-sharp, black feathers shot out from them like a barrage of armor-piercing bullets.
SQUELCH!
Meliodas's body was pierced with several deep wounds. His cheerful expression twisted in pain for a fraction of a second. He instantly recovered, brandishing his magic sword in a blinding flurry of deflections. The remaining incoming feathers were blocked, scattering harmlessly around him.
Demiurge slowly descended, hovering just above the clone.
"You are injured," Demiurge noted coldly. "My wings are naturally imbued with Hellfire. It is a flame that no living creature can resist, and it cannot be extinguished by normal means. Surrender!"
Meliodas gritted his teeth, pulling a jagged black feather out of his shoulder. Just as Demiurge said, even though the projectile had been removed, the attached Hellfire clung to the edges of the wound like a persistent, burning disease.
"The word 'surrender' isn't in my dictionary," Meliodas said, casually twirling the magic sword in his hand, letting his demonic blood drip onto the asphalt below. He gave Demiurge a 'bring it on' gesture.
"Then I shall get serious." Demiurge adjusted his tie with his free hand. "[Aspect of the Devil: Razor Claws]."
Demiurge spread his hands, and five metallic, scythe-like claws extended from his palms. He began to dash toward Meliodas, his speed increasing rapidly, his tailored shoes crushing the air beneath his feet.
The two once again engaged in brutal close combat.
Claws and the magic sword blade clashed and separated in the air, sending shockwaves through the ruined skyline. Their hands moved with blurring, lethal speed.
"[Aspect of the Devil: Hellfire Mantle]."
Taking advantage of Meliodas's burning injuries—which made the clone's defense slightly sluggish—Demiurge chanted his next buff. His body immediately ignited with a raging, magical black flame. At the same time, his razor claws also became wreathed in the scorching Hellfire.
'Hellfire Enchantment?' Meliodas thought, narrowing his eyes as he parried another strike.
Their battle did not stop there. Instead, as the grueling melee continued, Meliodas accumulated more and more burning wounds across his arms and torso.
Against this specific type of high-speed, physical close-combat enemy, Full Counter couldn't exert much power. His signature magic only reflected magical attacks, not physical strikes enhanced by flames. Therefore, Meliodas hadn't been able to use his ultimate defense.
Meliodas leaped back several yards, panting slightly as he looked down at the short sword in his hand. The blade of Lostvayne was completely coated in Demiurge's Hellfire. Even the hand he used to grip the hilt was constantly enduring the scorching, agonizing heat.
"Well," Meliodas sighed, his cheerful demeanor finally vanishing entirely. "If I don't get serious now... I'm actually going to lose!"
"Serious?" A hint of extreme caution flashed in Demiurge's eyes. In this wounded, cornered state, his opponent still wasn't being serious?
"You're quite strong, Specs," Meliodas admitted calmly. "This current form of mine... is a bit inconvenient for an opponent like you. Just give me a moment."
After speaking, a terrifying, suffocating gust of wind blew outward, using Meliodas as its epicenter.
Right before Demiurge's eyes, a pitch-black, jagged crest—the Mark of the Demon—began to manifest on the right side of Meliodas's forehead. An absolutely crushing, ancient pressure emanated from it, causing the very air to vibrate.
At this moment, Meliodas's entire demeanor was completely, horrifyingly different from before.
The previous Meliodas always carried a hint of leisure and playfulness in his expression. Even when he fought seriously to protect others, he didn't make his enemies feel an innate, biological sense of dread.
But at this moment, Meliodas's green eyes had darkened, holding only an endless, cold desire for total destruction. The pitch-black, viscous demonic energy—Hellblaze—swirled violently around his small body, making his oppressive aura infinitely more intense than Demiurge's.
When Meliodas fully activated his Demonic Mark, the pure darkness of his innate magic effortlessly swallowed and extinguished Demiurge's Hellfire. The two flames were simply not on the same dimensional level.
Meliodas looked up, his voice echoing with a slight, demonic resonance.
"Come on. Round Two."
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