The Seraphic System
Chapter: 94
Disclaimer: I don’t own High School Dxd or any other universe used in this story. However, all original characters, plotlines, and world-building elements created in this story are my own.
Pa/ t reon details below the chapter if you're interested in seeing some content in advance.
Note: Decided to give you guys a longer chapter instead of splitting this into two chapters. I hope you enjoy it!
(Where The Roads Align)
The boy sat perfectly still on the metal table, trying not to flinch as the needles slid under his skin. He had learnt his lesson after Father had said moving would ruin the readings.
He didn’t want to fail him again.
"Specimen exhibits heightened pain tolerance," his Father noted into his recording device. "Neural pathways adapting to constant stimulation. Increase voltage by fifteen percent."
The electricity coursed through the boy's small frame. He bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood but didn't cry out. Crying made Father angry, and angry meant more experiments.
He gripped the sides of the metal table, letting out a shuddering breath. His eyes looked up at his Fathers for strength.
"Fascinating. The divine blood provides remarkable resilience. Note for tomorrow, test cellular regeneration limits with acid exposure." His father noted.
He didn’t flinch.
This wasn’t an unusual comment.
He'd been on this table every day for as long as he could remember. Sometimes it was needles, sometimes machines that made his bones feel like they were breaking, sometimes chemicals that made his insides burn.
It wasn’t easy…
The cuffs released him.
His Father regarded him. “Good.”
With that he turned and left.
He shakily stood up.
The door hissing opened a moment and later, his mother rushed in.
She knelt. “Are you okay?”
She stroked his hair gently, rubbing his back comfortably.
He took a calming breath, smiling weakly. “Yes Mother.”
She smiled gently, stroking his face and giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Good boy.”
His smile became brighter as he gazed up as his mother.
She would come after the experiments, when Father locked himself away with his notes.
She'd hold him while he shook, stroke his hair when the nightmares came, tell him stories about heroes and adventures. She called him her little star, her precious boy.
"It's going to be okay," she'd whisper. "Mama's here. I won't let anything bad happen to you."
She was the only good thing in his world. Besides his Father.
-
He finished his daily lessons in the sterile white room Father called the education chamber.
He was seven years old and could speak twelve languages, solve complex equations and recite the genealogies of every major pantheon.
He couldn't deny it made his blood warm comfortably knowing how perfect his Father wanted him to be. Even if the desire to play like normal children was strong, he didn't want to disappoint them.
After lessons, he made his way back to his small room. The walls were plain white, containing only a bed, a desk, and shelves lined with educational materials. No toys or any such decorations.
Father said such things were distractions from his development.
As expected, Mother arrived within minutes of him settling onto his bed. She always came after the experiments and lessons, when Father retreated to his private study to analyze the day's data.
"There's my brilliant boy," she said softly, sitting on the edge of his bed. Her fingers ran through his hair, gentle and soothing. "How are you feeling today?"
"Tired," he admitted, leaning into her touch. The experiments had been particularly intense today, and his small body still ached from the electrical testing.
"I know, sweetheart. You're so brave, you know that?" She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around him. "My little star is the strongest boy in the whole world."
He buried his face against her shoulder, breathing in her familiar scent. She always smelled like vanilla and something floral he couldn't identify.
It was the only pleasant smell in the entire facility.
She frowned.
“Did he push you too far today?” She questioned with a soft sigh.
“N-no. I handled- I can handle it, I’m just a little tired.” He replied.
She smiled. “I know it’s hard. I wish I could do something but in the end, you’ll be stronger for it.”
“Do you think I’m doing well?” He questioned worriedly. “It’s getting harder…”
Her hand stilled for just a moment before resuming its gentle stroking. "Of course he does. He just has a different way of showing it. All those tests, all that learning, it's because you're special. More special than any other child. Nothing easy is worth working for.”
“I suppose so.”
She held him tighter. "I know, baby. But your Father knows what's best for you. He's helping you become something amazing, something the world has never seen before."
The boy nodded against her shoulder. “I know, my studies have shown me just how brutal the world is.”
“Books don’t do it justice.” She laughed lightly. “There’s a whole world out there. One with an infinite scale of powers. But don’t worry, one day this will be over and you’ll only have the benefits to focus on.”
He smiled.
"Tell me a story?" he asked, pulling back to look at her face.
She smiled, that warm expression that made everything else bearable. "Which one would you like to hear?"
"The one about Thor's stolen hammer."
She paused as if expecting something before shaking her head.
“You shouldn’t say a God's name so lightly, little one.” She said lightly.
He giggled into her.
"But here we go" She settled back against the cold stone wall, pulling him to rest against her side. The dungeon was dark and damp, but her presence made it bearable. "Once upon a time, the great thunder god of the Norse woke up to find his mighty hammer Mjolnir had been stolen while he slept.”
He stared at her deeply.
“The god was so angry that lightning flashed across all the nine Norse realms."
The boy closed his eyes, letting her voice wash over him.
He'd heard this story dozens of times, but it never got old. In this place of endless experiments and pain, her stories were the only thing that kept the darkness at bay.
"The thunder God and his clever trickster brother discovered that Thrym, the giant king, had buried the hammer eight miles underground. The giant would only return it if the beautiful goddess agreed to marry him. But she refused and all of Asgard shook with her anger."
"What did they do?" he asked sleepily, though he knew the answer.
"The wise god had a plan. Thor would dress up as the goddess in a wedding gown and veil, with his brother as his bridesmaid. But the thunder god didn't want to, he was embarrassed and angry, but it was the only way to save Asgard."
She stroked his hair gently. "So the lightning god put on the bridal dress, the sparkling necklace, and the long veil. When they arrived at the wedding feast, he ate an entire ox, eight salmon and drank three barrels of mead! The giant was suspicious, but his brother convinced him that the goddess he was disguised as was just very excited about the wedding."
"And then?" he whispered.
"When the giant brought out Mjolnir to bless the marriage, the thunder God grabbed his hammer and revealed himself. He defeated all the giants and saved the day, even though he had to do something embarrassing to succeed."
She stayed with him until he drifted off to sleep, her hand never stopping its gentle motion through his hair.
When he woke up in the mornings, she would sometimes have breakfast waiting for him. Not the nutritional paste Father prescribed, but real food.
Pancakes shaped like hammers, fruit cut into amusing shapes, sometimes even candy she smuggled in from somewhere outside the facility.
"Our little secret," she'd say with a conspiratorial wink. "Father doesn't need to know about everything."
-
"Focus, boy," Angra Mainyu's voice echoed through the chamber.
The towering figure of his father loomed at the edge of the training circle, shadows writhing around him.
"I'm trying, Father," the boy whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Trying is for the weak," Angra Mainyu replied flatly. "You are my son. You will succeed. Empower your attacks with emotion.”
From behind the protective barrier, his mother watched with worried eyes, her hands pressed against the glass. She couldn't speak during these sessions, Father had forbidden it but her presence was a small comfort.
"Extend your hand. Feel the emotions and the small amount of divinity that flows in your veins," Angra Mainyu instructed. "Let it consume your doubts, your fears. Pain is merely another tool."
The boy closed his eyes and reached deep within himself. The cold, writhing darkness that Father said was his birthright surged forward eagerly. It whispered promises of power, of making all those who hurt him pay.
Wisps of black smoke began to curl around his fingers, growing thicker and more substantial. The shadows seemed hungry, wanting to spread and devour everything in their path.
"Better," Angra Mainyu acknowledged. "Now shape it. Give form to destruction itself."
The boy focused, his small face scrunched in concentration. The shadows responded to his will, condensing into a small orb that hovered above his palm. It pulsed with malevolent energy.
"Excellent," his father said and for a moment there was something that might have been pride in his voice. "Soon you will be ready for more advanced techniques."
Behind the barrier, his mother smiled encouragingly, mouthing 'well done' when Angra Mainyu wasn't looking.
"Again," his father commanded. "Until you can manifest it without conscious thought."
-
He woke up with a yawn, looking at the time and quickly taking some pills to stop the burning pain that tore through his body.
It was early.
Far more early than he ever woke up and yet he couldn’t find himself to sleep any further.
Sleepily, he stood up. He walked toward the kitchen, hoping Mother might have made those sweet cakes she sometimes surprised him with. Her voice drifted from behind the partially open door, and he stopped to listen.
Maybe she was talking to one of her friends.
He liked hearing her laugh.
Despite it being early, he rarely ever saw his mother sleep.
He hummed, looking around. A slight limp to his walk due to a particularly intense experiment his Father had tried.
He looked around curiously.
“Mother?”
It took him a few more minutes to hear muffled voices.
He put his ear to the door, intending to open the door.
"How much longer do I have to keep this up?" Mother's voice carried exhaustion, not happiness.
The boy's hand froze on the door frame.
Father's cold tone answered. "As long as the experiments require. The subject's emotional attachment to you provides valuable data on divine psychology under stress."
"It's getting harder to pretend I care about the little runt. He's so needy, always wanting attention and comfort. Sometimes I want to just push him away when he clings to me after your sessions." She grouched with a sigh. “I’m not made out to hang around with brats y’know?”
His father let out a sigh, as if he was dealing with a particularly annoying servant.
"Your performance has been adequate. The maternal figure provides necessary psychological stability for the testing parameters. Without it, the subject would likely suffer complete mental breakdown before we gather sufficient data." He said, his voice indifferent.
"And then what? When you're done with your experiments?" She asked, her voice annoyed.
"Disposal, most likely. Unless he proves useful as an asset. Divine hybrids make excellent weapons if properly conditioned." He mused. “The Greeks certainly showed that with their little mortal stunt.”
She laughed, a sound that made him flinch.
“Here I thought I was being a bitch.”
The boy's chest felt hollow, like something vital had been carved out with a dull knife.
The door opened slightly, without a creak or sound since such things infuriated his Father.
He fell back lightly.
The Mother who held him when he cried, who sang him to sleep, who called him her precious star, she was lying. It was all lies.
Everything was lies.
Tears were leaking out of his eyes without control.
His legs gave out and he slumped against the wall, staring at nothing.
The two people who were supposed to love him, who were supposed to protect him, had been using him. Studying him. Planning to throw him away when they were done.
B-but he had thought that Father was making him perfect.
He was seven years old and his world had just collapsed into ash.
“Really though, Angra. Can you give me some sort of date?” The woman asked.
The air was still.
His Father stopped working.
“Angra…?”
The woman seemed to realise her mistake.
The boy watched as she was lifted from the floor and choked mid-air.
“I don’t remember giving you such a permission to call me by my name?” His fathers words weren’t angry or even cold. Just downright cynical.
The boy watched through the peak.
His mother’s fearful face burned into his mind.
-
"Increase the neural stimulation," Father ordered. "I want to test the limits of divine pain tolerance."
The machine hummed to life. Electric current raced through the boy's nervous system, setting every nerve ending on fire. He screamed this time, a raw sound that echoed off the laboratory walls.
"Excellent response. Note the autonomic reactions. Heart rate elevated, perspiration increased, pupil dilation significant."
The boy thrashed against the restraints as another wave of agony coursed through him. Tears streamed down his face but Father just adjusted dials and made more notes.
"Please," the boy gasped. "Please stop."
"Emotional breakdown imminent. Reduce power by five percent. We need him conscious for the next phase." His Father’s voice calmly interjected. He looked considerate. “Activate sound cancellation.”
His screams turned silent.
He didn’t even realise when the experiments stopped.
His mother didn’t open the door like usual, leaving him to sit there for an hour until he stood up and dragged himself to a room.
It was hours later, Mother came to his room as always. She sat on the edge of his bed and reached out to stroke his hair.
There was a bit of spilt wine on her otherwise pristine dress, her lipstick slightly messy.
He pulled away.
She bit her lip, growing softly.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "Did Father hurt you badly today?"
The boy stared at her, seeing through the mask for the first time.
"I'm fine," he said quietly.
She tried again, pulling him into her arms. "My poor little star. Mama will make it better. You know daddy just wants you to be perfect.”
She rubbed her hand along his back and stayed there for a couple of minutes.
Every word was poison. Every gentle touch was a knife twisting deeper.
When she thought he was asleep, she slipped out and left the room.
-
The experiments had grown worse.
Father was testing regeneration now, cutting pieces away and watching them grow back. The boy endured it in silence, his mind retreating to a cold, empty place where nothing could touch himself
Mother still came every night, her visits becoming a bit less frequent.
The boy learned to hate with the purity that only a child could manage.
He sat in bed, his body burning and the pills he was meant to take discarded on the side of his bedside table. Tears streamed down his face at the emptiness in his heart.
It somehow hurt so much more than the experiments.
He didn’t even realise when he was standing up and walking, only blinking as he was half-way down the corridor of the large mansion he had resided in since his birth.
The boy didn’t stop, his eyes half open with bags under them as he found himself reaching his mothers room.
Mother was sleeping in her bed, peaceful and unguarded. She looked almost angelic in the purple moonlight streaming through the window. Beautiful and serene.
The boy stood beside her bed.
A part of him wished he had never heard them talking. That he would have been loved until they disposed of him quietly in his sleep. The most probable death his Father would enact.
She ruined it.
She couldn’t just endure as he had.
This was her fault.
He looked down at the scalpel he had somehow acquired.
"Mother," he whispered and she stirred.
There was a brief annoyance that was replaced by a gentle worry.
Her eyes opened, focusing on him in the darkness. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I know what you are," he said simply.
“What?” His mother asked confusedly, before smiling. “Oh? Am I one of those Angels you read about. While I’m honoured at your praise my little star, did you have to wake me up for such a thing? We could always talk tomorrow, you know?”
She giggled.
“You look tired sweetheart. Daddy must have put you through a lot today. How about you sleep with me? Hmm?” She whispered, as if it was some sort of conspiracy.
The boy smiled blankly.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
She wrapped him up in her arms, she pressed kisses to his forehead. “I love you.”
“Yeah… I did too.”
She gasped, blood frothing at her lips.
A deep cut was drawn across her throat.
She looked at him in shock, hurt and sad.
"I understand everything." The knife slid between her ribs, finding her heart with anatomical precision. Father's lessons in biology had been thorough. "I heard you talking. I know you never loved me."
She gurgled, her arms slowly reaching up.
"You made me love you," he continued, his voice eerily calm. "You made me trust you. You made me hope that someone cared about me. And it was all fake."
She wrapped him up in a last hug.
“This isn’t your fault.”
She couldn’t say more.
The light faded from her eyes as she bled out on the white sheets.
He looked down at her confusedly.
He shook his head.
Father would find her in the morning. He'd know who did it, of course, but he wouldn't care. If anything, he'd probably be proud.
A clap echoed through the room, making him jump off the bed.
His Father entered, peering at him emotionlessly
“Experiment is a success.” He noted.
“W-what?”
“Oh yes, I suppose you must be confused.” His Father replied. “You succeeded. Well done.”
He hated the pride that he felt from that.
“What are you talking about?” He demanded. “You had no control over this!”
“No?”
“No! I saw you two speaking.” He cried. “I saw you speaking about disposing of me-“
“With your mother, yes?”
“Yes!”
“This one?” He questioned, pointing to his Mother staring at him boredly from across the room.
He flinched.
“W-what?” The boy said once more, his eyes darting wildly to the woman on the bed and the one in the corner.
They both looked so different.
One was serene while the other was downright scary.
“Have you still not caught on? We will have to increase your intelligence lessons.” His Father mused. “Isn't it obvious? I tricked you. You fell for my bait and played your part wonderfully.”
The boy hiccuped.
“T-thats not possible. I saw you!-“ the boy tried to stutter.
His Father sighed. “I made you see what I needed you to see, son.”
The boy hated the warmth he felt at that word.
“I woke up-“
“Who do you think woke you up? Why couldn’t you go back to sleep? Why didn’t I have my silencing magic up for such an important talk? You think I didn’t notice your presence? So many questions with easy answers. I’m a God, boy.”
The boy stared between the two women, his young mind struggling to process what was happening. The corpse on the bed, still warm with blood seeping into white sheets. The living woman in the corner, watching him with cold indifference.
He wanted nothing more than to feel her warmth surrounding him.
"I don't understand," he whispered.
His Father sighed irritably.
"The woman in the corner is a servant," his Father explained with clinical detachment. "Magically altered to appear as your mother for the conversation you overheard. I needed you to believe your mother had betrayed you."
The boy's legs gave out completely. He collapsed beside the bed, staring at the face of the woman he had just murdered. His real mother. "But... but I heard you talking. About disposing of me. About her pretending..."
"Theater. All of it." His Father made another note on his tablet. "Though I must admit, the results exceeded expectations. You killed your own mother without hesitation once you believed yourself betrayed. Fascinating."
The boy's hands shook as he touched his mother's cooling face. The same face that had kissed his forehead every night. The same hands that had held him when he cried.
"She never said those things," he whispered, the horrible truth crashing over him.
"Of course not. Your mother was pathetically devoted to you. Always interfering with my work, begging me to reduce the experiments, trying to shield you from necessary pain." His Father's voice carried disgust. "She was planning to take you away from me. Can you imagine? Abandoning years of research for maternal sentiment."
The boy stared at his mother's peaceful face, remembering her last words.
Even as she died, even knowing he had killed her, she had tried to comfort him.
"Why?" The word came out broken, barely human.
His Father scowled as if he was being unreasonable.
"Your mother cared too deeply," his Father said, watching his son's complete psychological collapse with scientific interest. "She was gathering funds to try and escape with you, so I decided to make one last use of the useless creature. Two experiments for the price of one, testing your capacity for matricide and observing total psychological fracture in a divine hybrid."
The boy's mind shattered completely. Every gentle touch, every whispered comfort, every moment of warmth, it had all been real. His mother had loved him. Had tried to save him.
And he had murdered her with his own hands because he believed a lie
"She loved me," he whispered, the words tearing his throat raw.
"Pathetically so," his Father confirmed without emotion. "Most inconvenient for proper conditioning."
Hatred was born.
The Architect’s black misty eyes rapidly dissolved and a shaky breath escaped him.
His vision cleared.
The various life times of sin he had committed was fresh in his mind, making his teeth grind. His fingers dug into his skin and his veins felt on fire as the Architect stared across the battlefield at the blonde-haired being with hate.
His eyes burnt.
“How dare you.” He scowled.
“Not only have you ruined so much planning.” He whispered. “You force me to relive such things, after wasting so much of my time…”
The Angel paused, laughing mirthlessly. “I’m glad. That look on your face. It suits you.”
His burning eyes stared up, his rings searing into his skin and the artefacts weaved into his flesh masterfully made his skin begin to dull.
"I'm going to destroy you," the Architect's voice came out as a rasp, each word dripping with decades of accumulated venom. "And once I separate your head from your shoulders, I'll use every piece of you in a device designed for one purpose, watching Heaven burn."
His eyes blazed with the kind of hatred that Kai recognised. He had once been a part of such hate as well.
It made him halt to listen.
“You'll be conscious of all of it. Every scream from your precious realm, every angel I tear apart for components, every moment of their suffering, you'll feel it all through the neural connections I'll wire into what's left of your brain."
The Architect stepped closer, his presence radiating malice like heat from a forge. "Your brothers will make excellent test subjects. Your children will provide useful genetic material. The women?" He smiled, and it was the most terrible thing Kai had ever seen. "There are gods with very specific appetites who pay handsomely for pure specimens. Especially Gabriel.”
His skin became ash and the ring on his pinky finger seemingly dug into his flesh.
"As for your angelic men, their skin will make fine parchment for recording my experiments. Their blood and bones will serve as ritual components. Their souls will power the engines that remake reality itself."
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, somehow more terrifying than any shout. "And when Heaven is nothing but ash and screaming, when everyone you've ever cared about has been reduced to spare parts and raw materials, I'll rebuild your body. Piece by piece. Cell by cell. I'll corrupt every strand of your angelic essence until you become something that knows only one truth, serves only one master."
The Architect's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp, too white. "Me.”
-{Kai}-
This situation isn’t ideal.
My body hurts… My mind hurts. I was exhausted and my angelic reserves were nearly empty.
I could see why battles were fought with conserving yourself in normal cases. It was surreal. Only less than an hour ago I had been looking at Gabriel, spending time with her and casually chatting.
Then, the invasion I had been preparing for since learning of it had arrived abruptly without any forewarning.
In that time, so many of my family had died. Uriel had saved my life at the cost of his own, then further performed a strange spell that had truly damaged the massive Dragon with a wound that hadn’t been able to regenerate.
A part of me thought how crazy it was that I had become so close with my angelic family. I had truly never thought I would have another family and yet, Gabriel had come and saved me from my perpetual want for loneliness.
The Architect had taken many away from me.
Perhaps it was the relative peace I had in Heaven that made an anger blossom in me that had only occurred a few times before. Just how many Angels had died? How many of them couldn’t have their corpses retrieved?
Uriel had been taken from me. Sure, I had recovered his body. It wouldn’t be permanent if I had anything to say about it. No matter the case or question of morals that I would go through to achieve it. But my current resurrection skill just wasn’t strong enough.
He was just in the higher realm of the God-class…
It went for all my family. I had become so close with them. The kind, cute Angels who tried their best and went through everything with an adorable ditzy attitude.
They were mine.
Which was why I could give less of a shit about the pain burning through my body.
The Architect had a slightly crazed scowl twisting his face.
There was a brief moment of silence before his hand raised in a flash.
Chakra flowed through my veins instead as my muscles tensed and I launched myself skyward with a boom, wooden platforms erupting beneath my feet for momentum.
The Architect rose to meet me, his rings blazing with power. The first collision sent shockwaves across the castle below, shattering windows for miles. The strange castle nearby didn’t stand a chance.
His expression was wild.
The Architect pushed back and raised his hand, the crimson ring on his index finger blazing to life. Energy coalesced in a spinning vortex above his palm, drawing in ambient heat from the surrounding air until frost formed on nearby surfaces.
The vortex compressed, condensed, then erupted forward as a spiraling beam of superheated plasma that carved through concrete like butter and turned steel beams into molten rivers.
The beam didn't travel in a straight line, it curved and twisted through the air, following heat signatures and seeking the warmest targets. Where it passed, the very air ignited, leaving a trail of fire that lingered for seconds before dissipating.
I twisted midair, wooden barriers sprouting and splintering instantly.
The heat seared my side as I dove beneath the blast while my sword absorbed the residual emotions from the Architect's rage and annoyance, darkening with stored malice.
I accelerated upward using another Mokuton propulsion.
Massive tree trunks erupted from the ground, growing fifty stories tall in seconds.
My wings left a trail behind him as I rapidly approached the Architect, who floated in the air.
The Architect's silver ring activated, freezing the wood solid before shattering it with telekinetic force. Ice fragments the size of cars rained down on the streets below.
He assumed his hand at the floating debris.
Another ring pulsed and a wave of air pushed them down with incredible speeds.
Sun Breathing First Form.
My blade carved through the debris, each swing trailing solar fire.
My slashes were fast and I didn’t waste my time closing distance fast, striking at his exposed flank. His other ring sparked, deflecting my sword with some sort of force that pushed him back at the same time.
The impact crater in the area below expanded.
The Architect's ring discharged. Concentrated electrical energy that superheated air to plasma. I channeled chakra through my entire body, wooden armor forming and burning away in milliseconds.
The lightning earthed through my defenses, slightly burning my flesh beneath.
Luminous Impact Style.
Light chakra exploded from my fist as I hammered his barrier. Cracks spider-webbed across the energy field. He teleported backward, appearing several kilometers away instantly.
I pursued him.
The Architect took a breath and his divine power spiked.
The hatred my sword was gathering abruptly stopped growing and a ball of swirling dark-grey energy formed in front of the Architect. The Architect scowled as the ball grew large, revealing he was using his own emotions to fuel the attack.
Negative emotion and divine power swirled in a ball of grey-black and golden power. His arms swept as I approached, blades of dark-grey sickly energy fired out in the dozen.
They were fast, dark streaks in the sky.
I channeled chakra through my palms. Massive wooden walls erupted from the air itself, each one thick as a building and reinforced with compressed life energy. Trees burst from the wooden surfaces instantly, their branches weaving together into living shields that pulsed with chakra.
The dark blades made an impact and tore through everything. Wood aged decades in seconds, turning brittle and crumbling. The trees withered, their leaves blackening and falling like ash.
My defenses dissolved into rotting mulch as the sickly energy consumed every trace of chakra I'd poured into them.
I twisted through the air away from the remaining projectiles.
I pointed my finger, a concentrated beam lanced toward his chest, but another blue ring sparked automatically. The light scattered harmlessly against the barrier, dissipating into useless sparkles.
The attack worked for the purpose it was intended for, to keep him occupied and push him back.
Wind formed around me and golden energy streamed into it. Turning into the Holy wind that came to rage around me. I formed a massive blast of wind that quickly approached the Architect as I pressed closer to him.
The Architect was pushed even further back behind his barrier and as I gained on him.
His ring flashed, a strange material coming out into a long plain spear. He whispered a word and dark symbols burned into the spears bland surface.
He threw the spear in the next moment, a circle forming in front of it and making the spear triple in speed as it travelled through. A shockwave erupted as it shot through the air.
I watched as the spear traversed through the air and promptly passed through a carefully crafted illusion.
The Architect scowled, he whispered a word and the illusion dispersed.
I was in front of him.
He leant back, attempting to make some space.
Solid matter formed in his hands, a massive hammer of crystallized metal that gleamed with dark energy. He swung it in a wide arc, the weapon trailing streams of corrosive power.
His swing was just in time as I swung my sword with the intent to cut him in half.
My body burnt even more and I winced at my low angelic reserves. I hadn’t been in such a situation for a while.
Sun Breathing Second Form carved an arc of pure fire, the blades met in a clang of power. The corrosive energy burnt against solar fire that clashed against each other.
I made my sword disappear into my inventory.
My fist lashed out, chakra running down the surface of my skin. To which the Architect raised his crystallized hammer in response, blocking the first punch with the flat of the weapon.
A small sting crawled across my hand from the energy that radiated from the weapon.
We withdrew, and a second strike was deflected with the handle.
My third punch connected with his ribs and I enjoyed his hiss of pain, staring him dead in the eyes as I did so. He grunted and swung the hammer in retaliation. I ducked and kept pressing forward, throwing combinations that forced him to briefly disperse his weapon.
Luminous Impact Style came into work as it briefly began a battle of fists.
Until my sword reappeared and I slashed, catching him off guard and managing to send his hammer away.
The Architect ripped one of his hands away and the gathering hate energy sparking across the blade was seemingly ripped away into his open hand, then, he didn’t waste time in forming it to his liking and shooting his hand forward.
A beam of hate energy that I quickly dodged.
My sword disappeared into my inventory once more.
While energy began gathering in the Architect’s hands, making any contact he made with me numb the area of contact for a few moments as we exchanged blows.
We traded blows in close quarters. His fist caught my jaw, snapping my head back.
I responded with an uppercut that lifted up through the sky. To which I closely followed to send another punch with all the force I could muster, taking delight in his grunt of pain.
My body burned from the strain, while my angelic reserves nearly empty and chakra working overtime to keep me functional.
The Architect's breathing grew labored. His punches came slower. He was trained… but it felt more like something he did for the sake of having it. Whereas my skill was obvious, judging by his fierce scowl and his frustration.
There was a yellow glow circling his eyes, presumably an artefact helping him. His eyes were moving insanely fast. Shockwaves were ringing through the air as we moved in a blur within the sky.
He threw a wild punch. Allowing me to slip inside and drive my elbow into his solar plexus. The impact doubled him over. Before I could follow up, he flew backward, putting distance between us.
Blood ran from his nose as he floated several meters away, his chest heaving. He wiped it with the back of his hand and glared at me with pure hatred.
The Architect backed away and I surged forward, sending a punch.
He raised both hands, a translucent barrier materialized between us. My punch struck the shield and sent ripples across its surface, but it held.
His counterattack came instantly.
A spiral of acidic energy that curved around his own barrier.
I was forced to back away rapidly, the corrosive beam missing me by inches and eating through a chunk of ground below.
But he wasn't finished.
A dozen crystallized shards that moved around me, activating like a minefield as they exploded when I got too close to them.
Wooden armour formed around me.
I couldn't dodge them all.
Three shards punched through my wooden armor, tearing into my shoulder and thigh. The wounds immediately went numb, spreading cold through my body as the corrupted energy tried to take hold.
My regeneration immediately fought back. Which made the Architect look slightly curious before it was crushed down by the genuine hate he felt for me.
I brought my sword out once more, sending a quick slash of cursed light that forced him to create another barrier. A barrier that exploded on contact and he was sent flying away.
I didn’t bat an eye at the pain. My eyes focused fully on the Architect with a cold emotion that was spread throughout my being. My eyes quickly sought the rest of the rings he hadn’t shown, appraising them quickly.
The rings were all powerful but mostly meant for general battle. He probably had more artefacts on him that I couldn’t see yet… so I wouldn’t underestimate him.
It was the last finger on his hand that sent a wave of coldness through me.
For the most part they were dangerous all in their own right but that if he used that, I honestly didn’t know if I would be able to escape. It seemed he didn’t want to waste it… but I couldn’t take a chance. I had to find a way to avoid that.
The Architect recovered
A dark ring activated and I prepared, knowing what to expect.
Darkness poured through the rifts, each tendril moving chaotically.
I lowered to the ground as the attack came towards me as if it was living. Trees, vines, and roots formed a living maze that covered me protectively.
The tendrils tore through the chakra-enhanced wood with only some difficulty, as I channeled more chakra into my wooden armour to make it stronger and more durable.
I shot up into the sky that was quickly filling up with ash and other foreign presences. Below me I allowed the forest to be torn apart.
His scowl was wild and his chest glowed from beneath his clothing, strange pointed crystal-like objects coming to form with dozens of magical circles weaving the four of them.
They surrounded him like four extra limbs as a large amount of power gathered.
“Die!”
Four beams of energy struck down from the crystal-like object's edge. Magical circles humming around its frame and seemingly feeding it power.
The air around them turned freezing cold. Where they touched the ground, everything began to rot and crumble.
I dodged sideways, barely avoiding the first beam that zipped past me, leaving destruction in its wake. The second one grazed the armour on my arm, leaving a line of dead wood that I quickly had to discard.
I was running out of options fast.
My mind raced as I dodged the third beam. With barely any angelic magic left, I had a few more powerful attacks in me before I was completely out. All I had right now was chakra and whatever I could create with it.
An idea sprouted to mind.
Massive wooden spikes erupted from the air around me.
Not exactly a special attack but my options were limited.
I dodged another beam in the air, kicking down as another one quickly followed. I summoned a few dozens of them, each one thick as a tree trunk and hardened with compressed chakra.
I gathered another burst of wind in my palms and used it to blast the wooden spikes forward like missiles.
The beams shifted targets, cutting through my wooden projectiles instead of chasing me. Splinters and ash rained down as the spikes dissolved under the decay energy. But it gave me the breathing room I needed.
The destruction from the beams was astonishing.
Down below once lush ground had withered, the castle practically ruined and everything besides the air itself was decaying.
I crafted a quick illusion of myself diving left while I actually moved right. The beams followed the false image, punching through empty air. I drew my sword and closed the distance fast.
My blade carved across his ribs, drawing black blood. It would have done more damage if he hadn’t somehow sensed the sudden attack. I followed up with a kick to his stomach that sent him backward.
He snarled and swung both arms out.
The four crystals suddenly flew together, merging into one massive structure that immediately exploded.
The shockwave slammed into me. I tumbled through the air, wooden armor cracking from the impact. My ears rang as I struggled to regain control.
“Few times in my life have I ever been this enraged.” The Architect voice boomed, covering the wound that was slowly healing. “You think you’re the first to be angry that your little family was nearly taken away from you.”
The Architect sneered. His entire body flared with divine power.
“You’re hardly special.” He spat.
The last ring on his finger activated and a wave of power burst out from its circular frame, the ring disintegrating into dust. Black power exploded out and a lance of cold went through me.
The ring I had been worried about.
New formations appeared around him. Complex geometric patterns that made my blood run cold just looking at them.
I knew what the ring was going to do as it turned into dust on his finger.
I threw up an illusion and tried to escape, but the formations spread across the entire battlefield. Whatever he was doing covered everything. My illusion flickered and dissolved as the patterns swept through it.
Binding circles began forming beneath my feet.
Magical circles formed around me and dark words spread across my body.
I felt my body beginning to rebel.
He was trying to seal me…
-END-
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