Haruto and the group were tense as the new arrival made his presence known. The air around them grew thick with a palpable sense of dread. Haruto's sixth sense screamed at him to flee, a primal instinct that demanded distance from this man who radiated power like none he had ever encountered before. Even the colossal Behemoth, whose towering form had dominated the battlefield, didn't evoke this level of fear. It was a deep, unsettling feeling, like standing in the shadow of death itself.
What was even stranger was the reaction of the Saints. These elite warriors, beings of immense power, stood on edge, their usual arrogance muted by the arrival of the newcomer. Haruto's eyes flickered between them, trying to piece together what was happening, but no one dared to speak.
Michael, clad in white, exuding an aura that made the earth tremble, locked his gaze on Gabriel. Slowly, deliberately, Michael began to walk toward him. His pace was neither rushed nor lazy; it was casual, almost nonchalant, as though he were taking a leisurely stroll through a park. But each step sent ripples of unease through the battlefield.
Gabriel, even in his demonic transformation, visibly tensed. His confidence had evaporated, replaced by fear. Despite his monstrous form, Gabriel knew full well that Michael was not someone he could afford to cross. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to kneel or run, but he was frozen in place, waiting for Michael's approach.
As Michael opened his mouth to speak, the Behemoth, still recovering from its earlier battle, let out a deafening roar. The ground shook beneath its fury. Without even glancing at the massive creature, Michael raised his hand and flicked it to the side. Instantly, the Behemoth let out a pained cry, its colossal form stumbling backward before collapsing to the ground with a thunderous crash.
"Quiet," Michael said calmly, his tone almost bored. "I'm about to have a conversation."
The Warlords, their bodies tense from the intensity of the battle, stared in stunned silence. Haruto's heart raced as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened. The Behemoth, a creature that had withstood all their might, had been swatted aside like a mere insect. A powerful shockwave echoed across the battlefield, the force of Michael's casual dismissal causing the earth to tremble.
Brigs's eyes widened in disbelief. "Did he just... smack the Behemoth with nothing but aura? He's a monster."
Haruto gulped. The rest of the group exchanged nervous glances. They were skilled warriors, veterans of countless battles, but now they stood in the presence of something beyond their comprehension. A single wrong move, and they knew they would be obliterated.
Michael stopped a few feet away from Gabriel and surveyed the scene. His cold, calculating eyes took in the destruction before turning to Raphael, who stood frozen in place, his face pale.
"Raphael," Michael said, his voice as smooth as silk, yet carrying the weight of absolute authority. "You, Gabriel, Uriel, Azrael... You were sent to procure this beast. And yet, you have failed to complete your objective. What is the meaning of this delay?"
Gabriel, now reverted to his normal form, winced. His body bore the marks of their earlier battle, bruises covering his skin from the Warlords' relentless assault. Swallowing his fear, he began to explain, recounting the events of their mission in painstaking detail. Michael listened, his expression unreadable, his eyes flickering with faint disinterest.
"I see…" Michael murmured, his voice soft yet chilling.
In the blink of an eye, Michael's figure blurred. A resounding crack echoed as Raphael was smashed into the ground with terrifying force. The earth splintered beneath him, and a spiderweb of cracks spread out from the point of impact. The Warlords watched in utter disbelief, their hearts pounding in their chests.
'Why had he attacked his own comrade?' they thought in unison, trying to make sense of the situation.
Raphael groaned, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he struggled to stand. Brig's hands tightened around his weapon, knuckles white from the tension. They had barely managed to scratch Gabriel with their combined efforts, yet Michael had just struck Raphael down with a single, effortless blow. The gulf between their powers was unimaginable.
Michael's calm demeanor didn't waver as he addressed Raphael once more. "And who gave you permission to engage in battle with the Warlords? Was that your objective? No. Your objective was to capture the Behemoth. Is even this too much for you to handle?"
Raphael gritted his teeth, his body trembling with frustration and humiliation. Even with his demonic transformation, he was powerless before Michael.
"Raphael," Michael's voice dropped an octave, the weight of his authority pressing down on everyone present. "We have a hierarchy for a reason. Disrupting that hierarchy leads to insubordination, and I will not tolerate such disorder."
The atmosphere grew thick with tension. The very air seemed to suffocate under Michael's presence, pressing down on Raphael with unbearable weight. Even Haruto and the others, who weren't the targets of Michael's ire, could feel the crushing pressure. They struggled to draw breath as sweat dripped from their brows.
Gabriel stepped forward, trying to intervene. "Don't be too hard on him. We completed the obje—"
"Silence," Michael snapped, his eyes never leaving Raphael. "I was not speaking to you."
The sudden authority in his voice made Gabriel flinch, and he quickly fell silent, stepping back with clenched fists.
Raphael, swallowing his pride, managed to respond. "Yes, Saint Michael," he muttered through gritted teeth, his body trembling with suppressed rage.
Suddenly, three more sonic booms echoed across the battlefield. Three new figures landed with precision, their presence immediately shifting the dynamic of the already intense confrontation.
Michael's eyes sharpened, his lips curling slightly. "Oh? So, Raphael, see what your incompetence has brought upon us?"
Haruto's heart skipped a beat as he turned to face the newcomers. Each one of them radiated a level of power that sent chills down his spine. He had fought on the front lines before, but these three were something else entirely.
Brigs scanned them, but none of the new arrivals were familiar. They bore an intimidating aura, one that rivaled the Saints themselves. Haruto, with his battle-honed senses, immediately recognized them as Vanguard-level warriors—perhaps even something more.
One of the arrivals, clad in radiant white and gold armor with two massive red wings, bent down and retrieved a brilliant sword from the ground. The sword glowed faintly, as if it had absorbed some of the Behemoth's energy. His armor gleamed under the light, with gold inlays tracing intricate designs across his chest and arms. His helmet was crafted from gold with white trim, and the wings atop it completed his imposing figure.
"Abaddon, it seems your blade made it just in time," one of the newcomers said with a chuckle, his voice laced with amusement.
Abaddon, the armored figure, turned toward him, his voice measured and calm. "Indeed, Crocell. As I've told you many times, my weapon reaches wherever my mind wills it. Your challenge was foolish."
The one called Crocell was a stark contrast to Abaddon. He had massive, scaly black and purple wings that resembled those of a dragon, his reptilian legs and tail completing his fearsome appearance. His eyes glowed a piercing white beneath a mask that seemed to merge into horns. In his hand, he held a long, black spear that crackled with dark energy.
"I think you two can settle this later," the third arrival finally spoke. His tone was calm, but there was an edge of authority that immediately silenced the banter between the others.
This final figure was draped in blood-red samurai robes, tattered at the edges, and adorned with bones and trophies of his past victories. He carried an array of weapons—a machete-like blade in hand, and three more swords sheathed across his back. His face was pale, his long white hair pulled into a loose ponytail, and his eyes seemed to cry tears of blood.
"Astaroth, you're no fun," Crocell said with a smirk. "But I suppose you're right."
Michael stepped forward, his expression unbothered by the new arrivals. Despite the power these beings radiated, he showed no signs of fear. He stopped just outside of their range, surveying them with a cold, calculating gaze.
"So, the Demon King has sent his Court to retrieve his pet," Michael said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Did we strike a nerve? Tell me, did you enjoy your time skulking around the border?"
Astaroth's eyes narrowed. "Your crimes won't go unpunished, Michael. You'll answer for what you've done."
"Shall I wipe them from this plane?" Abaddon asked, his massive sword pointed at Michael.
Michael's face twisted in disgust. "You dare show your face here again, Abaddon? After we spared you and left you with a sliver of life, you've chosen to taint yourself with filth. Pathetic. And to think, you were once a Saint."
Haruto's eyes widened at the revelation. The massive, imposing figure in white had once been a Saint? But now he was a demon, serving the court of the Demon King. How?
"My only mistake was trusting you," Abaddon said coldly, his voice unbothered by Michael's accusation.
"Enough talking," Astaroth commanded. "Crocell, do what we came to do."
"You are mistaken if you think I'll let you do as you please," Michael said as he swung his hand toward Crocell, only for Abaddon to block the aura attack with his giant sword. Another sonic boom rang out, killing some of the remaining Val troops who were too close. Brig looked back at his group. "We need to get away from here. We cannot afford to get caught up in this battle!"
Crocell vanished, reappearing beside the behemoth. In an instant, he raised his spear, purple energy crackling along its length as he prepared to strike the beast down. Before he could, however, Uriel appeared, blocking the attack with his blade. Crocell smirked.
"Oh? You want to play too?"
The battlefield erupted into chaos. Michael and Abaddon clashed, each strike sending shockwaves through the earth. Uriel and Crocell engaged in a fierce duel, their weapons clashing with such force that the ground shook beneath them.
Brig, his heart pounding in his chest, turned to the others. "We need to get out of here! We can't survive in this battle!"
Astaroth watched the unfolding battle with his arms folded. Raphael and Gabriel appeared in front of him. "What do you want?"
"We're going to get rid of a problem," Saint Raphael stated confidently.
"Oh? Is that so?" Astaroth sheathed his sword and drew out the short swords. "Come, show me what gives you this confidence and go all out, or you'll die."
Michael, seeing the other two Saints about to engage in battle, called out to them. "You idiots! Secure the Behemoth and follow orders!"
Raphael and Gabriel grit their teeth but still returned to the behemoth. Surprisingly, Astaroth did not give chase. Chanting together, they formed a massive magic circle around the beast. The ground beneath the behemoth began to glow, and slowly, it started to sink into the earth, disappearing along with Raphael, Gabriel, and Uriel.
Michael, locked in combat with Abaddon, saw the completion of the mission. With a final powerful blow, he created distance between himself and Abaddon, stepping back toward a glowing portal that had opened behind him.
"I'll have to cut our chat short," Michael said, his tone emotionless once more. He turned to Haruto one last time, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh, and Kage... I look forward to seeing your progress."
Before Haruto could react, the portal closed behind Michael, leaving the Warlords stunned and exhausted. Abaddon's blade swung down, but it met nothing but air.
Astaroth turned towards the warlords. "You four are coming with us."