CH 7: Arrival of the Archangels

Lancelot's slow advance halted as a sickle, attached to a chain and dagger, struck the ground in front of him with a deafening clang. The chain rattled ominously as the weapon trembled from the impact, the ground beneath it cracking slightly.

Lancelot tilted his head, his eyes narrowing behind his mask. A moment later, two figures materialized before him, their presence exuding an overwhelming aura of power.

Standing to his left was Raphael, clad in a striking red and white cloak that seemed to flow like liquid flame. His piercing emerald eyes glared at Lancelot, and his sharp features were framed by short, fiery-red hair. The sickle-and-chain weapon in his hand spun effortlessly as if it were an extension of his arm. His entire being radiated an intense, volatile energy that crackled in the air around him.

To his right stood Buddha, a towering figure with a serene yet imposing presence. His golden skin glimmered faintly, and his calm expression was betrayed by the subtle tension in his clenched jaw. He held a massive pillar-like staff carved from an ethereal golden stone, inscribed with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with light. His muscular form radiated pure, unshakable power.

"Oh, wow," Lancelot said with a mocking tone, slipping his hands into his pockets. "If it isn't the mighty Raphael and Buddha. Heaven really must be desperate to stop me."

Raphael smirked, his voice sharp and confident. "You talk big, but you won't be laughing when I take your head, heretic."

Buddha's voice was calm but firm, carrying a weight of authority. "Turn back, Lancelot. You've caused enough harm. This is your only chance to leave intact."

Lancelot chuckled darkly. "That's cute. Let's see if the two of you are any better than the fodder I just wiped out."

Without another word, Raphael dashed forward, the chain in his hand whistling as he swung it in a wide arc. Buddha followed close behind, his staff glowing faintly as he charged.

Raphael struck first, his sickle-and-chain weapon a blur of motion. The blade danced through the air, aiming for Lancelot's head. Lancelot tilted his head slightly, the sickle missing by a hair's breadth. Raphael yanked the chain back, spinning the weapon again and launching it toward Lancelot's legs.

Lancelot leaped over the attack, his movements fluid, but Buddha was already there to meet him midair. The massive staff came crashing down like a falling star, the sheer force of the swing creating a shockwave that rippled through the battlefield.

Lancelot crossed his halberd to block, the impact driving him back into the ground with a thunderous crash. The clouds beneath him dispersed, revealing the golden expanse below.

Before he could recover, Raphael appeared at his side, the sickle darting toward his neck. Lancelot twisted his body at the last second, narrowly avoiding decapitation. He countered with a swift swing of his halberd, forcing Raphael to retreat with a spinning flourish.

The two worked in perfect harmony, their attacks synchronized with deadly precision. Raphael's weapon lashed out like a serpent, keeping Lancelot on the defensive, while Buddha's massive staff struck with devastating force, creating craters in the ground with each swing.

Raphael's voice rang out, taunting. "What's wrong, Lancelot? Too much for you to handle?"

Lancelot smirked, deflecting another chain strike with his halberd. "You two are mildly entertaining, I'll give you that."

"Divine Technique: Blazing Chains!" Raphael's chain erupted in flames, the fiery weapon leaving a trail of embers as it sliced through the air. The heat was intense, forcing Lancelot to increase the pace of his movements to avoid being scorched.

Buddha's staff glowed brighter, his calm demeanor unshaken. "Golden Lotus Strike!" He spun the staff with incredible speed, creating a whirlwind of golden energy. The attack slammed into Lancelot, sending him skidding across the battlefield.

Lancelot landed on his feet, sliding to a stop. His mask was cracked, and a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"Not bad," he admitted, his grip tightening on his halberd. "But if that's all you've got, this is going to be disappointing."

He raised his halberd, its blade glowing with multicolored light. "Yellow: shimmer."

A wave of golden spears of light appeared in the air, the weapons made of energy surged forward, carving a path through the battlefield. Raphael leaped to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack, while Buddha braced himself, the energy colliding with his staff in an explosion of light.

As the dust settled, Raphael and Buddha reemerged, their resolve unshaken.

Raphael charged again, his sickle-and-chain weapon spinning with blinding speed. But this time, Lancelot was ready. With a burst of speed, he closed the distance between them, catching the chain mid-swing.

"What—?!" Raphael exclaimed, his eyes widening in shock.

Lancelot yanked the chain, pulling Raphael toward him. Before Raphael could react, Lancelot drove the butt of his halberd into his stomach, sending him flying.

Buddha attacked next, his staff swinging with the force of a battering ram. Lancelot sidestepped the blow, countering with a precise slash of his halberd. The blade caught Buddha's arm, drawing blood.

Buddha winced but pressed on, his staff glowing brighter. "Heavenly Technique: Lotus Bloom."

Golden lotus petals erupted from his staff, swirling around Lancelot in a storm of razor-sharp light. Lancelot spun his halberd, deflecting the petals, but several managed to graze him, drawing thin lines of blood.

Lancelot's aura flared, the halo behind his head burning brighter than ever. "Enough games."

He dashed forward, his speed overwhelming. Raphael barely had time to react before Lancelot drove his halberd through his chest.

"Raphael!" Buddha shouted, his calm demeanor finally breaking.

Lancelot pulled his weapon free, letting Raphael's body collapse to the ground in a heap.

Buddha roared, his staff glowing with immense power. "You'll pay for this!"

But Lancelot was faster. He appeared behind Buddha in a flash of light, driving his halberd through the man's back.

Buddha staggered, his grip on his staff faltering. "I… failed…"

Lancelot yanked his weapon free, letting Buddha fall beside his comrade.

He wiped the blood from his mouth, his mask shattered, revealing his cold, unyielding gaze.

"Two down," he muttered, turning toward the horizon.

Buddha's golden aura flickered as he began to rise, but before his transformation could complete, Lancelot's figure blurred into view. A devastating right hook connected with Buddha's jaw, sending him hurtling across the golden expanse.

The battlefield grew silent, the gathered angel soldiers staring in stunned disbelief. Gasps of outrage rippled through the ranks as Lancelot casually dusted off his hand.

"This scum…" one of the angels muttered. "He dared to strike the Great Buddha during his awakening!"

Lancelot's rainbow-hued eyes glowed brighter, swirling with an unsettling, chaotic energy. He stepped toward Buddha, his halberd trailing light as he raised it for a finishing blow.

But before the weapon could connect, a blinding fist of light crashed toward him. Lancelot twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike, only to sidestep a flurry of punches and a powerful kick that forced him to retreat several feet.

A golden glow filled the sky as another figure descended. The newly arrived warrior grabbed the unconscious bodies of Buddha and Raphael, carrying them into the air with swift precision.

Lancelot's sharp gaze locked onto the scene, his lips curling into a smirk as nine radiant figures appeared before him. Floating above them, exuding unfathomable power, was Nyx, God of Chaos, their presence a swirling mass of black and white energy, their chaotic aura bending the light around them.

Nyx's voice was calm yet commanding, reverberating through the battlefield. "Azrael, revive them immediately. The rest of you—take care of him. Do not kill him. Use the Etna."

Amaterasu, glowing with an iridescent, sunlit aura, stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. "Sir, it might be very hard for us to defeat this man without killing him. Even with our numbers, holding back may result in casualties."

Nyx turned to her, their gaze unwavering. "Do what you must to apprehend him—even if it means dismembering him."

As Azrael's healing powers flowed into Buddha and Raphael, their wounds vanished, and they rose to rejoin their comrades. The nine archangels stood in formation, each one radiating a divine aura and wielding weapons and powers that reflected their status as gods.

 Michael: A towering figure in golden armor, his six fiery wings unfurled behind him. His weapon, the Spear of Judgment, shimmered with radiant energy that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. His fighting style was deliberate and overwhelming, using devastating power to crush his enemies. Amaterasu: Clad in flowing robes of red and gold, her ebony hair tied into an intricate braid that shimmered with fiery embers. She wielded a katana forged from the heart of a dying star. Her movements were fluid and precise, like a blazing inferno dancing across the battlefield. 

Azrael: The quietest of the group, Azrael was wrapped in dark silver robes that obscured much of their body. Their scythe, Death's Embrace, emanated a cold, ghostly light. Azrael's attacks targeted the soul itself, bypassing physical defenses. 

Jophiel: A serene figure draped in robes of pure white, wielding a harp-like bow. Jophiel's arrows sang through the air, their melodies disorienting and weakening opponents. Apollo: A golden-skinned god whose physique radiated the brilliance of the sun. His twin chakrams blazed with solar energy, which he hurled with unmatched precision.Zeus: A muscular, bearded figure wielding a massive lightning-forged hammer. His every movement crackled with raw energy, thunder rumbling with each swing of his weapon.

Freyja: The goddess of love and war, clad in a shimmering suit of armor adorned with floral patterns. She wielded twin curved blades, her strikes as beautiful as they were deadly.

 The nine archangels surged forward, their divine light blinding. Lancelot stood his ground, his white halberd glowing faintly as he prepared to meet their attack.

Michael struck first, his Spear of Judgment hurtling toward Lancelot like a comet. Lancelot deflected it with his halberd, the impact creating a shockwave that rippled across the battlefield.

Amaterasu followed, her katana slashing in a series of fluid arcs. Lancelot twisted and dodged, her blade missing by mere inches. He countered with a swift swing of his halberd, forcing her to retreat.

Apollo's chakrams spun through the air, trailing beams of searing solar light. Lancelot batted them away with his weapon, but the diversion left him vulnerable to Zeus's hammer. The electrified weapon smashed into the ground where Lancelot had stood, sending arcs of lightning crackling across the field.

Lancelot's body radiated a brilliant white light as he launched into the air, his halberd spinning in a deadly arc. The blade clashed against Azrael's scythe, the force of the collision sending both combatants flying.

He raised his free hand, a sphere of pure golden light forming in his palm. "Rupture: Red."

The sphere exploded outward, the shockwave knocking several archangels back. Freyja darted forward, her curved blades spinning in a whirlwind of strikes. Lancelot blocked her assault with his halberd, their weapons clashing in a symphony of metallic echoes.

"Now!" Michael shouted.

The archangels formed a circle around Lancelot, their weapons glowing as they chanted in unison. A golden sigil appeared beneath Lancelot's feet, its intricate runes pulsating with divine energy.

Lancelot's eyes narrowed. "What's this? A trap?"

Before he could escape, the sigil erupted, chains of golden light wrapping around him. The Etna was a divine restraint, designed to subdue even the most powerful foes.

But Lancelot's laughter echoed through the battlefield. "You think this can hold me?"

The light in his eyes intensified, his body glowing with an overwhelming, multicolored brilliance. With a roar, he shattered the chains, the force of his release sending shockwaves through the air.

The battle escalated, each side unleashing their full power. Lancelot fought like a whirlwind, his halberd carving arcs of white light through the air. His body radiated multicolored energy, each color manifesting unique properties: red flames, blue frost, green tendrils of life, and more.

The archangels attacked relentlessly, their unity and divine strength pushing Lancelot to his limits.

Michael and Zeus struck together, their weapons colliding with Lancelot's halberd in a thunderous explosion of light and energy. Amaterasu and Freyja flanked him, their blades slicing through the air with deadly precision.

The battle escalated, each side unleashing their full power. Lancelot fought like a whirlwind, his halberd carving arcs of white light through the air. His body radiated multicolored energy, each color manifesting unique properties: red flames, blue frost, green tendrils of life, and more.

The archangels attacked relentlessly, their unity and divine strength pushing Lancelot to his limits.

Michael and Zeus struck together, their weapons colliding with Lancelot's halberd in a thunderous explosion of light and energy. Amaterasu and Freyja flanked him, their blades slicing through the air with deadly precision.

The battlefield trembled as the archangels pressed their attack, their coordinated assault forcing Lancelot into a defensive stance. His halberd spun in his hands, deflecting strike after strike, but the sheer number of enemies and their unrelenting onslaught began to wear him down.

Amaterasu moved first, her katana a blur of radiant fire. She closed the distance, feinting low before slashing upward, the heat of her blade singing Lancelot's armor. He parried the strike with the haft of his halberd, but the impact sent him stumbling back a step.

Apollo capitalized on the opening, his twin chakrams flying toward Lancelot from opposite sides. With a grunt of effort, Lancelot twisted, catching one with his halberd and dodging the other by a hair's breadth. The missed chakram carved through a nearby mountain of clouds, leaving a searing trail of molten gold in its wake.

"Impressive," Apollo smirked, his golden skin glinting in the divine light. "But how long can you keep this up?"

Michael roared, closing in with his Spear of Judgment. He thrust it toward Lancelot's chest, forcing him to leap back—but Zeus was waiting, his lightning-forged hammer swinging downward in a crackling arc.

Lancelot raised his halberd to block, the collision creating a deafening boom that echoed across the heavens. Sparks of electricity danced across his armor, his muscles seizing briefly from the jolt.

Before Lancelot could recover, Freyja and Jophiel darted in, their movements a deadly dance. Freyja's curved blades arced toward his sides, while Jophiel launched a series of precision strikes with her harp-like bow, each arrow buzzing with dissonant energy.

Lancelot deflected Freyja's first strike with his gauntlet, his halberd too far out of position. He ducked under Jophiel's arrow, spinning to deliver a sharp elbow to Freyja's ribs. She grunted but retaliated immediately, her blade slicing a shallow cut across Lancelot's arm.

Azrael appeared out of the shadows, their scythe slicing through the air with eerie silence. Lancelot caught the weapon with his bare hand, the ghostly light of the blade burning his palm. He yanked Azrael forward, slamming his knee into their stomach and sending them skidding back—but the effort left him open.

Michael was there in an instant, his fist glowing with divine energy as he drove it into Lancelot's gut. The blow sent him flying, his body crashing through a nearby mountain of clouds.

Lancelot staggered to his feet, his halberd glowing faintly as he leaned on it for support. His once-pristine armor was scorched and dented, and blood dripped from a cut above his eye.

"Not bad," he muttered, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground. "You're actually making me work for this."

But his bravado faltered as the archangels closed in, their combined auras blazing with overwhelming power.

Zeus and Apollo charged together, their attacks perfectly synchronized. Zeus swung his hammer in a horizontal arc while Apollo launched a blinding solar beam from his chakrams. Lancelot dove to the side, rolling to his feet just in time to block a downward strike from Amaterasu's katana.

The sheer force of her attack drove him to one knee. Before he could counter, Jophiel's arrows rained down on him, pinning him in place as Freyja and Azrael advanced.

Azrael's scythe slashed toward his throat, but Lancelot caught it with his halberd. Freyja darted in from the other side, her blade slicing across his shoulder. He hissed in pain, twisting to kick her away, but the effort left him vulnerable to a brutal kick from Michael.

Lancelot skidded across the battlefield, his halberd slipping from his grasp. The archangels surrounded him, their weapons raised.

"It's over, Lancelot," Michael said, his voice echoing with finality.

Lancelot grinned weakly, his rainbow-colored eyes flickering. "Over? I haven't even started."

He raised his hand, summoning a sphere of multicolored light that pulsed with chaotic energy. The archangels braced themselves, their divine auras flaring in response.

But before Lancelot could release the attack, Apollo's chakrams struck his wrist, forcing him to drop the sphere. It detonated harmlessly in the distance, the resulting shockwave sending ripples through the golden expanse.

Amaterasu appeared behind him, her katana pressed to his throat. "Yield," she demanded, her voice cold.

Lancelot's body trembled, his breathing shallow and labored. Blood dripped from countless wounds, pooling beneath him on the radiant battlefield. The light in his rainbow-colored eyes flickered momentarily, a shadow of doubt clouding them.

Then, like a storm breaking free, the doubt vanished, replaced by a glint of something wild—something unhinged. A grin stretched across his battered face, and then came the laughter. It started low, building into a crescendo of manic, defiant cackling that echoed across the battlefield.

The archangels froze, their weapons still raised. A cold tension settled over them, their divine instincts warning them of an imminent shift.