CH 6: Full Assault

Kelly glared at Kowai, his voice filled with venom.

"Can I at least get some privacy, you piece of shit? I want to be alone."

Kowai smirked faintly.

"As you wish."

With a flicker of shadowy energy, Kowai vanished, leaving Kelly alone in the dimly lit cave. Kelly leaned back against the cold stone wall, draping an arm over his face. The silence hung heavily until a muffled sob escaped his lips, quickly growing into a deafening scream that echoed through the cavern.

He rolled off the bed, landing hard on the ground. His sobs twisted into guttural roars as his emotions spiraled out of control. Clenching his fists, purple energy crackled to life around his body, flaring wildly. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, his aura surging in uncontrollable waves.

Unable to contain the storm within, Kelly hurled the bed across the room, smashing it into the wall. He turned his rage toward the ground, slamming his fists into the stone floor with relentless force. His breaths were ragged, his mind clouded with fury.

Without thinking, he stormed out of the cave and stood at the massive entrance carved into the side of the cliff. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking him instantly, but he didn't care. With a primal roar, he leapt from the ledge, hurtling toward the forest below.

Kelly hit the ground with a thunderous crash, his energy flaring like a beacon. Every creature in the forest turned toward him, drawn to the chaotic aura radiating from his body. They charged at him, snarling and growling, but Kelly stood his ground.

He let out a short grunt and lunged at the first beast, a massive orange creature with a single dark eye. Grabbing it by the throat, he slammed it into the ground with enough force to make it cough blood. Another beast charged, wielding a spiked club, but Kelly spun and delivered a brutal kick, sending it sprawling. Purple energy enveloped his fist as he punched another creature, sending it crashing through the trees.

For an hour, Kelly rampaged through the forest, tearing through every beast that dared to approach him. When he finally climbed back to the cave, his bare chest and hands were smeared with blood. His hair clung to his face, soaked from the rain that had fallen during the carnage.

Inside the cave, Kowai stood calmly, watching him.

"Did that quell the anger in you? Did harming those mindless beasts make you feel better?"

Kelly didn't respond. He summoned his sword with a flash of energy and charged at Kowai. His blade swung in a downward arc, aiming to cleave the man in two.

Kowai stepped aside effortlessly.

"You used too much force," he said casually. "It's as if you expect me to stay still the entire time."

Kelly snarled and turned, swinging again with all his might. Kowai leaned back, dodging the strike with ease.

"Always be ready to change your attack," Kowai said, his voice calm but firm. "Brace yourself in case your opponent dodges. That's how you make your strikes more effective."

Kelly's rage boiled over. He slashed horizontally, but Kowai leapt back, avoiding the blade. In a fit of frustration, Kelly hurled the sword at him.

This time, two glowing chains shot out from portals on either side of Kowai, latching onto his arms and holding him in place. Kelly grinned wickedly as he dashed forward, leaping into the air with his fist cocked back for a devastating punch.

Before the strike could land, Kowai's black and yellow aura flared to life. The energy erupted outward, blasting Kelly, the sword, and the chains away. Kelly crashed to the ground, groaning as he sat up, his eyes blazing with icy hatred.

"Did you think brute force alone could overcome me?" Kowai asked, his tone sharp yet mocking. "You're far too predictable, boy."

Kelly clenched his fists, his fury rising to new heights. He locked eyes with Kowai, his determination unyielding.

Full Assault

Zang and Ikari walked through the dark, oppressive landscape until they reached the towering silhouette of a black castle. Its jagged spires clawed at the stormy sky, an aura of malevolence radiating from its walls.

"So this is where the great Sin of Wrath lives?" Zang asked, his tone tinged with skepticism.

Ikari smirked as they ascended the steps to the grand entrance. "More or less," he replied casually.

Zang glanced at his newly formed arm, still marveling at its strange, purplish-red hue. "So... where are the other six of the Seven Deadly Sins?"

Ikari stopped abruptly, his expression darkening. "They're dead," he said flatly. "Lancelot killed them all two thousand years ago during the first great war."

Zang froze, his eyes widening in shock. He glanced away uncomfortably. "Oh... well, that's... unfortunate."

Ikari let out a thunderous laugh that echoed through the barren land. "Don't be so grim, young apprentice. They died because they were weak—nothing more, nothing less."

They stepped inside the castle, the interior stark and nearly devoid of furniture. Shadows danced along the walls as they walked through the empty halls. Eventually, they entered a living room where Ikari rummaged through a wooden box, pulling out an old, sleeveless knight's training shirt and a pair of white pants.

"Listen carefully," Ikari said as he tossed the clothes to Zang. "You and I are both part of a rare class of beings known as Mages. We possess an enormous pool of endo, but our bodies are frail. That's why most Mages prefer to fight from a distance and rarely work alone. It's discouraging for most—leaves them as mediocre, pathetic wastes of potential."

He straightened, his eyes burning with intensity. "But me? I used that weakness to fuel my growth. As a low-ranking demon, I trained my body relentlessly, built my strength, and clawed my way to become one of the most feared beings in the Demon Realm—and the strongest of the Seven Deadly Sins."

Zang listened intently, his gaze fixed on Ikari.

"Now, tell me about your current fighting style," Ikari continued. "What do you do in combat, and how do you implement it against adversaries?"

Zang hesitated for a moment before responding. "Well, due to my endo hypersensitivity, I start with long-range blasts to study my opponent's fighting style while keeping them at bay. If that doesn't work, I move in for close combat, boosting my physical speed, strength, and destructive output. But... my body can only handle so much energy. If I push too far, it takes a huge toll—causing pain and delays in my movements."

Ikari folded his arms, considering. "Hmm. What's stopping you from pouring all your endo into a single attack at the start of the fight?"

Zang blinked, startled. "Well... my body would break down, wouldn't it?"

Ikari's voice turned sharp. "What if you saw your family slaughtered in front of you? Would you still think about the repercussions? Would you hold back?"

Zang's eyes widened, the horrifying image flashing in his mind. "...No. I'd do everything in my power to make sure I watched that person bleed."

"Exactly," Ikari said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "That's the mindset you need to have in every fight. If you die, who's going to protect the ones you love?"

Zang clenched his fists, determination burning in his gaze. "You're right. Please, make me stronger, Master."

Ikari walked over to a cabinet, pulling out a massive great hammer adorned with serrated spikes. "What weapon do you use?"

"Weapon?" Zang asked, confused.

"Perfect," Ikari said with a smirk, tossing the hammer at Zang. "Let's get started."

In a spacious office lined with ancient books and glowing artifacts, Lancelot stood before an older man seated behind a heavy wooden desk. The man's short stature and two strands of hair gave him a deceptively fragile appearance, but his presence exuded authority.

"So, what do you propose, President K?" Lancelot asked, his tone steady.

The old man leaned back in his chair, studying Lancelot carefully. "Do you truly believe these boys have what it takes to join our organization?"

"Yes, sir," Lancelot replied. "In their first battles, they took down territory generals from Realm Prime. I believe they have immense potential."

President K nodded slowly. "Well, Lancelot, I'm sure those eyes of yours see many things that I cannot. If you truly believe in them, I will welcome them into the Magus Corporation."

"Thank you, President," Lancelot said with a bow. "I deeply appreciate it. But there's something else. We can't let the attack on the Middle Realm go unchecked. They attacked us, and I lost two of my pupils. I can't let them live in peace after this."

The old man sighed. "Hmm. What do you propose we do about it, then? Since it was an attack on you, I'll let you decide."

"If you permit it, sir, I'll go to their home and launch a counterattack. Turn their plan against them. Thin their ranks. Maybe even take out their leader before their full assault begins."

President K frowned. "Lancelot, you know once you enter the Heaven Realm, you won't be able to leave until the God Seal is fully broken—if you're even alive by then. Are you truly willing to do this?"

Lancelot smirked. "Yes, President. Besides, who else would you send? I'm the strongest."

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Take my old battle robes. You wouldn't want your clothes burned to ash there." He pointed to a set of white and orange robes with black compression armor beneath them.

"Thank you, President," Lancelot said, retrieving the robes from their glass case. As he slipped them on, he turned back to the old man. "Please, look after my students while I'm gone. Don't tell them where I went—make up an excuse for me."

The old man's voice softened. "I've always trusted you, Lancelot. Thought of you as a son. Please, make sure that in five years, when I see you again, you return alive."

Lancelot fastened his black battle mask, his wiry smile hidden beneath it. "I will, Old Man. See you in five years."

In a flash of purple light, he was gone.

Lancelot appeared in front of the giant crack in the sky, a jagged wound glowing faintly with otherworldly energy. He stood silently, his expression hidden beneath the smooth black of his battle mask. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he muttered two simple words:

"Limiter Release."

A crushing pressure exploded outward, distorting the air around him. A brilliant halo of light erupted behind his head, casting an eerie glow over his figure. Without a word, Lancelot disappeared in a flash of purple, reappearing within the sealed realm.

The world beyond the crack was an endless expanse of orange and white—a surreal domain of clouds, floating mountains, and cascading waterfalls. The air was thick with divine energy, making every step feel heavier. As Lancelot began walking across the ethereal clouds, his calm composure unwavering, he barely managed three steps before a group of armored figures descended from the sky.

The men, adorned with white wings and golden helmets, carried weapons of various designs. Their leader, a particularly arrogant-looking angel wielding a gleaming longsword, stepped forward, barring Lancelot's path.

"Hey," the angel barked. "Remove your mask so you can be identified."

Lancelot tilted his head slightly, his hands still in his pockets. His voice dripped with dry humor. "I have a huge complaint about the customer service here. Can I speak with your manager, please?"

The angel's face twisted with irritation. "Do you think this is some kind of joke?"

Lancelot's smile faded, his gaze fixed on the angel. He stood silently, unflinching as the angel raised a hand toward his face, a smug grin spreading across his lips. Behind him, thousands of winged soldiers stood ready, their weapons gleaming in the golden light.

"Well," the angel sneered, "if you won't comply, I'll just find out myself."

The instant the angel's hand drew near, Lancelot's own hand shot forward, grasping the man's wrist. A sickening crack echoed as the angel's arm bent in the wrong direction, his scream of pain cutting through the silence.

Before the angel could react further, Lancelot seized him by the throat. His voice was cold and commanding as he uttered, "Red: Collapsing Dwarf Star."

In seconds, the angel's body was reduced to ashes, a crimson orb of energy forming in Lancelot's grasp. He lifted the ball of destruction above his head with one finger before casually tossing it toward the sea of soldiers. The crowd parted in fear, their faces frozen in terror as the red sphere floated ominously to the ground.

For a moment, there was silence—a breathless pause that stretched endlessly. Then, the orb made contact with the ground.

A blinding torrent of red light erupted outward, the force obliterating hundreds of soldiers closest to the blast. Screams filled the air as shockwaves tore through the expanse.

The silence shattered as a thunderous battle cry rose from the remaining soldiers. "Attack!"

Lancelot removed his mask, tossing it to the ground. His eyes burned with a fierce, golden light as he extended his hand, summoning his weapon. "Awaken, Divine Miracle Spear: Freyar!" he intoned.

The spear in his hand began to glow, its form shifting and elongating. A radiant light engulfed it, transforming the weapon into a halberd with a razor-sharp blade and a luminous edge.

Without hesitation, Lancelot dashed forward, a blur of motion. The winged soldiers opened fire, beams of golden energy streaking toward him in a dazzling barrage. Lancelot weaved effortlessly through the onslaught, his halberd slicing through the air with devastating precision.

He met the swarm head-on, his movements a blur of calculated destruction. 

The battlefield was chaos incarnate. Thousands of golden-armored soldiers swarmed toward Lancelot, their wings slicing through the air like sharp blades. Beams of golden light streaked toward him, searing through the clouds and shaking the ground with their impact. But Lancelot moved through the storm of attacks like a phantom, his steps precise and unyielding.

His halberd gleamed brilliantly as he spun it with one hand, deflecting the incoming beams with ease. Sparks flew as golden energy collided with the weapon, the impact sending shockwaves rippling outward. With a sudden burst of speed, Lancelot vanished, reappearing in the center of the advancing horde.

"Assimilation: Dazzling Rainbow."

The halberd in his hands erupted in a kaleidoscope of colors, its edges shimmering with radiant energy. With a single swing, he unleashed a sweeping arc of multicolored light that cut through dozens of soldiers at once, their forms burning to a crisp immediately. The explosion of light painted the battlefield in brilliant hues, momentarily blinding those nearby.

Before the dust could settle, Lancelot raised his hand toward the sky. The halo behind his head flared, pulsing with divine energy. "Scatter White: Smite."

Pillars of golden light rained down from the heavens, striking the ground with pinpoint accuracy. Each pillar obliterated entire squads of soldiers, their screams lost in the deafening roar of divine judgment. The battlefield quaked under the relentless assault, the clouds beneath their feet rippling like water.

A group of elite warriors broke through the chaos, their weapons glowing with celestial energy. They formed a coordinated attack, surrounding Lancelot from all sides. One wielded a massive greatsword, another a bow that shimmered with golden arrows, and the last carried dual scimitars that glinted menacingly.

The archer fired a volley of arrows at Lancelot, their speed blinding. But Lancelot's halberd spun in a perfect arc, each arrow deflected effortlessly. The greatsword wielder lunged, his weapon crackling with divine power as it came down with tremendous force.

Lancelot sidestepped with ease, his halberd glowing brightly as he countered with a horizontal slash. The halberd's blade sliced cleanly through the greatsword, shattering it into fragments before continuing through the warrior's armor. The elite soldier fell, his body crumpling to the ground.

The scimitar-wielding duo attacked in unison, their blades dancing with speed and precision. Lancelot's movements were a blur as he parried their strikes, the clang of metal on metal echoing across the battlefield. With a sharp twist, he disarmed one of them, sending the scimitar spiraling into the air.

"Collapse: Red."

A pulse of crimson light erupted from Lancelot's hand, engulfing the remaining scimitar-wielder in a fiery explosion. The other warrior staggered back, but Lancelot gave him no chance to recover. In a flash, he closed the distance, his halberd piercing through the soldier's chest. The elite's form crumbled to the ground.

The archer, desperate, fired another barrage of arrows. Lancelot extended his hand, and a golden barrier of light materialized around him, the arrows disintegrating on impact.

"You're out of tricks," Lancelot said coldly. He pointed his halberd at the archer, the weapon glowing with concentrated energy.

"White: Pinpoint Lance."

A piercing beam of white light shot forth from the halberd, tearing through the archer and carving a deep scar into the landscape behind him. The force of the attack sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield, scattering the remaining soldiers like leaves in the wind.

Despite their overwhelming numbers, the remaining troops hesitated, their morale shaken. Lancelot stood tall amidst the destruction, his halo burning brighter than ever. Blood stained the clouds beneath his feet, and his halberd gleamed with a divine brilliance.

"Pathetic," he muttered, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "If this is the strength of the Heaven Realm, then this war is already over." Lancelot says as he summons another mask and adjusts it over his face. Lancelot begins to progress forward toward the army deeper into the heaven realm.