Divine Wrath

The air crackled with heat as Toji raised his hand. Strange, glowing symbols pulsed across his skin—an eerie fusion of magic and technology. His golden eyes burned with something far beyond rage, beyond vengeance.

"You attacked me… and you think I wouldn't have your head?"

He snapped his fingers.

In the blink of an eye, the world turned to fire.

A monstrous explosion of flames—hotter than the core of a star—erupted from him, consuming the entire forest in an instant. The trees disintegrated, the ground blackened, and the sky turned red with the sheer force of the inferno. Soldiers dove for cover, barely shielding themselves in time.

Only the assassins stood, barely alive, protected by their own dark magic.

Through the fading embers, Toji's gaze locked onto them.

"Do you believe in God? The Heavenly Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit?"

The assassins spat blood, eyes filled with hatred. "You'll die, so we won't bother answering."

Toji sighed.

"Fools are not meant to exist."

The battle ignited.

From the shadows, tendrils of black magic surged toward him—blades of darkness meant to rip him apart. Toji stood still. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the magic changed.

A spear of darkness aimed for his heart twisted midair, turning bright blue and freezing solid. Another blast of shadow flames transformed into golden light, harmlessly flickering out.

The assassins' faces twisted in disbelief.

Toji smirked. "Shadow magic? Pitiful."

They rained attacks upon him—spears, whips, curses—but none of it mattered. With every movement, Toji altered their spells at will, shifting colors, reversing effects, bending their own power against them.

A shadow dagger became liquid and fell uselessly to the ground.

A vortex of dark energy imploded upon itself, consuming its own caster.

One by one, the assassins fell.

The sky, still burning with residual fire, illuminated Toji standing amidst the destruction—untouched, unwavering.

The battlefield, once a dense forest, now lay in ruin—blackened earth, molten stone, the lingering scent of charred wood and flesh. Smoke curled into the night sky like fingers reaching for salvation, but there would be none tonight.

Toji Takakura stood at the center of it all, untouched.

A single ember flickered at the tip of his finger before vanishing into the still air. He let his hand fall to his side, golden eyes scanning the remains of those who dared to strike at him. Nothing remained. Nothing but scorched silhouettes of what once were.

Silence.

Then, a whisper.

The soldiers, still reeling from the sheer devastation, began murmuring among themselves.

"Did you see that?"

"He burned everything… in an instant."

"I heard the flames were hotter than the sun itself."

"Is he even human?"

Some lowered their heads in reverence, others exchanged wide-eyed glances of admiration—and fear. The weight of Toji's power had settled over them like an unspoken truth. None dared to approach.

Except one.

Gon Serene, ranked seventh among the Mages, let out a slow breath and smirked. His golden pupils gleamed faintly in the fire's glow. As expected, he thought.

Toji, ever the picture of arrogance, crossed his arms. "You all are just going to stand there?" His voice cut through the whispers like a blade. "Fix the tents."

The soldiers hesitated, shifting uneasily under his gaze. The man had just incinerated an entire battlefield with the flick of his fingers, and now he expected them to act as if it were nothing?

Serene raised an eyebrow. "You need to work on that attitude."

Toji barely spared him a glance. "And you need to mind your business."

Serene chuckled, shaking his head. Same as always.

Then—movement.

Commander Felaad emerged from the smoke, his armor streaked with soot, his expression grim. His steps were quick, urgent.

"Serene, sir! You need to see what I found."

Serene's amusement faded. Toji turned, curiosity piqued.

Felaad gestured for them to follow, leading them toward the very edge of the battlefield. The ground was still warm beneath their boots, the air thick with the remnants of divine wrath. But there, amidst the destruction, something remained unscathed.

A symbol.

Burned into the earth, yet untouched by the flames.

Serene's eyes narrowed.

The sigil was intricate, ancient, pulsing faintly with residual energy. It did not belong to the assassins. It did not belong to Toji.

It belonged to something greater.

Serene exhaled sharply, voice barely above a whisper. "So… it's them again, huh?"

Toji frowned. "Them?"

Serene didn't answer immediately. Instead, he crouched, tracing the edges of the sigil with a gloved hand. The energy beneath his fingers was cold—unnaturally so.

"I've seen this before," he murmured.

Toji's patience wore thin. "Then start talking."

Serene tilted his head, expression unreadable. "Tell me, Toji. Do you still believe you're at the top of the food chain?"

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Toji's gaze. Not doubt—no, not yet. But something close.

Serene smirked. Good.

Because tonight was only the beginning.

The battlefield still smoldered, the air thick with the scent of charred wood and burnt flesh. Embers drifted lazily in the cold night air, casting faint glows upon the darkened land. The once-thriving forest was nothing but scorched earth now, reduced to an ashen wasteland by Toji Takakura's wrath.

Silence loomed over the remnants of the battle, broken only by the distant rustling of armor and the murmurs of surviving soldiers. Their whispers carried awe, fear, and reverence.

"He erased them."

"Like they were nothing."

"I swear… for a moment, I saw his flames reach the sky itself."

Toji ignored them. Their words meant little. Power spoke for itself, and he had already demonstrated that truth.

Standing a few feet away, Gon Serene crossed his arms, watching the younger man with a look of mild amusement. The mage had seen countless warriors rise and fall, but Toji was something else. Unchecked power, unshaken confidence—perhaps even recklessness.

Finally, Serene broke the silence. "Let's go."

Toji barely spared him a glance. "Go where?"

Serene smirked. "There's someone you need to meet. A young genius. A scholar. He'll help you make sense of this world faster than I ever could."

Toji scoffed, unimpressed. "I don't need some bookworm to explain things to me."

Serene chuckled. "You'll change your mind once you meet him."

The older mage turned toward the horses the soldiers had prepared, his movements casual, but there was something knowing in his demeanor. He wasn't making a request—he was stating a fact. Toji would meet this scholar, whether he liked it or not.

After a brief moment of consideration, Toji sighed and moved toward the horse without another word. There was no point in arguing—not yet, anyway.

The two men mounted their horses and rode out, their figures fading into the darkness beyond the ruins of the battlefield.

The moment their presence faded, the world seemed to exhale, the weight of their power retreating into the distance. The battlefield grew eerily silent, the once-burning embers now flickering weakly.

Then, the air shifted.

The shadows deepened unnaturally, twisting in ways that defied logic. The burnt trees groaned, their remains cracking under an unseen force. From within the darkness, something began to stir.

Slowly, a figure emerged.

His body was barely visible through the writhing black mass that clung to him like living armor. His horns curled upward, jagged and unnatural, as if formed from darkness itself. The presence he exuded was suffocating—an overwhelming force of cold, ancient malice.

His golden eyes, glowing like dying embers, surveyed the destruction before him.

And then, he spoke.

"My sons..." His voice was deep, distorted, dripping with rage and sorrow. "You have suffered."

The shadows at his feet pulsed in response, tendrils of black mist writhing in the air. His gaze slowly roamed the battlefield, taking in the remnants of what had been annihilated.

His grip tightened.

"Do not worry."

The ground beneath him trembled. The fractured soil cracked further as dark energy erupted outward, slithering like a tide of liquid night.

"I will make them suffer in return."

The weight of his words carried through the wind, a promise—one soaked in vengeance.

"I will get revenge."

The darkness surged around him, swallowing the very air, before slowly retreating back into his form. He took one last look at the fading hoofprints in the dirt. Then, as silently as he had come, he vanished into the abyss.

The night stretched ahead, the stars above barely visible through the thick canopy of trees. The rhythmic beat of horse hooves echoed through the empty road, a steady cadence that filled the void of silence between the riders.

Toji rode at a measured pace, his posture relaxed, his mind elsewhere.

Then—

Something shifted.

A pulse.

Dark. Thick. Twisted.

It was subtle, yet undeniable. A ripple of energy, spreading outward from somewhere behind them.

Toji's grip on the reins tightened. His jaw clenched slightly, his golden eyes narrowing as the sensation washed over him.

It was faint, but it carried weight. A presence—not of man, nor beast, but something far worse.

Beside him, Commander Felaad, who had been silent for most of the journey, noticed the sudden change in Toji's demeanor. "What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

Toji exhaled through his nose.

Then, he scoffed. "Nothing."

The sensation lingered for a few moments longer, like a whisper at the edge of his consciousness. But Toji dismissed it.

Whatever it was—whoever it was—it wasn't worth his concern.

Without another word, he urged his horse forward, continuing down the path toward the unknown scholar.

The darkness behind them deepened, but Toji never looked back.