Within the distorted space, Ituso's jaw fell open in shock.
He could hardly believe what he was seeing—Ryuichi and the others were still alive after that cataclysmic strike.
"Impossible…! That attack was fueled by the power of a hundred souls! In theory, it should've been twenty times stronger than the last recorded output!"
He muttered to himself in disbelief.
It wasn't as though he hadn't tested the Soul Ignition experiment before.
Even burning just five human souls had unleashed terrifying destructive power back then.
He had been absolutely confident—certain that this blow would annihilate Ryuichi and his team without fail.
But Ryuichi, that damned five-second miracle man, had blocked his so-called ultimate strike head-on.
Ituso's mental "CPU" practically fried on the spot.
No matter how many calculations he ran, he never could've accounted for Ryuichi possessing something as absurdly broken as the Eternal Twilight Citadel.
Forget twenty times the power—even if the attack had been amplified two hundred times, as long as Ryuichi's ability lasted, he wouldn't have cared in the slightest!
Thud!
No. 2 suddenly collapsed to his knees.
His energy was completely spent—and then the backlash of the burned souls hit him all at once.
"A—Aaaahhhh!!!"
No. 2 clutched his head and screamed, the sound raw and piercing.
"Wh-What's happening to him!?"
Asia's voice trembled as she listened to the man's anguished howls, the cries sounding more like someone being tortured in the depths of Hell.
Rias frowned slightly, her sharp mind already piecing it together.
"The soul is an incredibly delicate construct. What he just did—forcefully burning soul energy on such a massive scale—even if those souls weren't his own, the damage to his own spirit would still be irreparable."
In other words, not only did it consume other people's souls, it also destroyed the one doing the attack.
A one-shot weapon in every sense.
Ryuichi's lips twitched in distaste.
Sure, it was an effective method of attack… but there was nothing honorable about it.
Using human souls as fuel—just hearing that sounded evil to the core.
Even Devils wouldn't stoop that low.
For all their infernal nature, Devils treated souls with great reverence.
Promises, contracts—anything tied to the soul was sacred, and Devils always respected that balance.
It was, ironically, one of their most unshakeable virtues.
Humans, though… humans were a strange breed indeed.
There were those whose kindness outshone angels—and others whose cruelty ran darker than any Devil.
No race in existence was more multifaceted than humanity.
Now, No. 2's screams filled the air, growing hoarse and deranged.
His face contorted in agony as if the pain were searing directly into his soul. His nails tore into his scalp until blood ran freely down his face, the once-handsome features now reduced to a grotesque blur of red.
Ryuichi stood silent, unmoving.
In No. 2's wild, glassy eyes, he thought he glimpsed something—pleading… sorrow… and release.
After two seconds of silence, Ryuichi stepped forward, sword in hand.
Without hesitation, he raised it high—and brought it down in one clean stroke.
Schlick.
A faint sound, followed by a spray of crimson.
No. 2's head rolled to the ground, and for an instant before his eyes dimmed completely, there was unmistakable relief within them.
Ryuichi looked down at the severed head for a moment, his expression unreadable, then lifted his gaze toward Ituso.
Ituso finally snapped back to his senses—but before he could utter a word, Ryuichi's figure blurred and vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he was standing right in front of him.
The King's Sword pierced forward—swift and merciless.
Shunk!
The blade drove straight through Ituso's chest, bursting out his back.
Ryuichi lifted the sword horizontally, hoisting the man into the air like a skewered doll.
Ituso writhed helplessly, feeling his strength drain away. Blood frothed at his lips as he tried to speak, but no sound came out.
Ryuichi tilted his head slightly upward, his golden eyes glowing faintly as he stared at the man impaled on his blade. There was a cold, imperious weight in his gaze.
"Killing you this quickly almost feels too merciful."
His tone was frigid, emotionless.
Ituso's mouth moved, and a broken smile crept across his bloodied face.
"M-My… soul… will… live… forever…"
"That so?"
Ryuichi gave a cold smirk. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he flung the man's body off the sword.
Ituso's corpse hit the ground hard, landing beside No. 2's fallen body.
A second later, a chilling sound tore through the air.
A faint, translucent figure rose from No. 2's decapitated head—it was his soul, now ragged and tattered from the earlier ritual.
As it drifted upward, it locked eyes on the dying Ituso. The moment their gazes met, the broken spirit lunged.
From Ituso's skull, another soul emerged—his own.
The two collided midair, twisting and writhing in a grotesque struggle. Then came the sickening crunch, chew, rip of spiritual flesh being devoured.
No. 2's soul tore Ituso's spirit apart, bite by bite, until it was completely consumed.
And once it had finished its grisly meal, No. 2's spirit detonated with a faint pop—bursting into countless shimmering motes of light that scattered like falling stars.
Ryuichi stood there silently, watching. Then, sensing something, he turned his gaze toward No. 2's head.
The eyes were now closed—peaceful at last.
With a soft gesture, Ryuichi summoned a wave of golden light from the corpse.
It gathered and coalesced into a radiant form—
The Holy Sword.
He reached out to retrieve it—
—then froze.
A sudden, violent chill ran down his spine. His instincts as a Devil screamed danger.
Without a second thought, he darted aside.
A moment later, a colossal spear of light materialized in midair and came crashing down where he had just been standing.
BOOM!
The explosion gouged a crater more than a hundred meters wide, leveling what remained of the ruined laboratory.
Even though Ryuichi had reacted instantly, the blast still caught him. He staggered back, coughing up blood.
The power behind that attack… it far surpassed the level of a High-Class Devil.
"Who!?"
Rias's voice rang out in fury. The strike had come too suddenly—even she hadn't sensed it in time.
If not for Ryuichi's razor-sharp instincts, he would've been obliterated in a single blow.
"Heh… Princess of the House of Gremory. I didn't expect you to be the one visiting today. It's been ages since I've seen your brother… tell him I almost miss him."
A chilling voice echoed through the warped space, though no one could see its owner.
"Coward! Show yourself!"
Rias's eyes blazed with rage. Seeing Ryuichi injured by a sneak attack had pushed her past her limit.
But the voice ignored her fury. Instead, the unseen speaker lazily reclaimed the fallen Holy Sword, and then spoke again—mocking, confident.
"Patience. The real show hasn't even begun yet. When the time comes, we'll meet again—and that will be the grand performance. Hahahahaha!"
The laughter faded into the distance, wild and triumphant.
As it did, black feathers began to drift down from the sky above—slowly, silently.
Rias's brow furrowed tightly.
"A Fallen Angel… and at least a cadre-level one at that."