The air screamed. It wasn't a sound, but a physical force—a shockwave of pure annihilation that rippled out from the skies above Z-City a moment before the roar of the explosion ever reached the ground. Hakai, a black speck against the burning cityscape, skidded to a halt on the crest of a shattered building, his head snapping toward the source.
A beam of incandescent, greenish energy, thicker than a city block, had lanced down from the colossal ship. Where A-City had once stood, there was now only a expanding hemisphere of light and a crater of vaporized earth. The sheer, reckless power of it made the air crackle with ozone and dying energy.
A genuine, wide grin split Hakai's face. This was scale. This was statement.
But as the afterimage of the blast faded from his eyes, he focused his senses, pushing them through the chaotic energy residue. And there, at the epicenter of the floating fortress, he felt them. Two presences. Not one.
One was a roaring supernova, a boundless, chaotic well of energy that felt ancient and starved—the source of the blast. The other… was nothing. An utter nullity. A perfect, calm void in the shape of a man, standing unmoved at the heart of the supernova's fury.
Hakai's grin didn't falter, but it sharpened, becoming more analytical. They were already engaged. A clash of such titans had already begun without him. To interrupt now would be… disrespectful. An amateur's move. The true tasting of that power would have to wait for the victor.
His gaze, and his senses, swept downward, past the ship's main hull, to the lower sections. There were other energies there. Weaker, but still potent. One, in particular, caught his attention. It was a solid, multi-layered presence, sharp and durable. It felt like a fortress compared to the fragile power of the Deep Sea King. A flicker of excitement, a predator finding new prey, ignited in his chest.
Hehe… not the main course, he thought, his red pupils narrowing. But a far better appetizer than I expected. I'll enjoy this one, and then… I'll challenge the victor.
Decision made, he moved. He became a blur of motion, not up toward the climactic battle, but forward and down, toward a secondary, less-damaged entrance on the ship's lower flank. He slipped inside as silently as a shadow, the sterile, alien air of the ship greeting him.
He didn't wander. He followed the pull of that solid, multi-layered energy signature, a hunter on a fresh trail. It led him through winding, purple-lit corridors and into a vast chamber. And there he was.
A being of pale, segmented flesh, with five distinct heads, each bearing a single, intelligent eye, all attached to a powerful central mass. It was examining the chamber, one head speaking to another in a low, guttural language. It radiated an aura of confident authority.
Melzargard sensed him a moment too late. All five heads turned, their eyes widening in unison at the sight of the lone human in a black hoodie, standing with an unnerving calm.
"You," one head hissed, its voice a dry rasp of surprise and annoyance. "A stowaway? Your foolishness ends here. This ship is the domain of Lord Boros."
"Boros?" Hakai repeated, the name clicking into place. The supernova above. "I'll get to him. But first…" He let his energy flare, just a whisper, a teasing promise of power that made the air in the chamber hum. "...you look like you could use a good fight."
He didn't wait for a response. His body vanished from the spot and reappeared directly in front of the central mass, his leg already in motion for a brutal, sweeping kick aimed at the creature's core.
The attack connected with a sound like a cracking mountain. Melzargard was sent flying backward, crashing through a cluster of crystalline consoles that erupted in showers of sparks and shrapnel. The four other heads let out a unified roar of shock and rage.
"You dare!" one bellowed.
"He's fast!" another cried out, its tone more analytical.
Hakai landed softly, a smirk playing on his lips. "A coordinated consciousness? Interesting. Let's see how well you share the pain."
He flicked his index finger. A near-invisible En slash tore through the air, aimed not to kill, but to maim. One of the heads, the one that had spoken first, was cleanly severed from its stalk. It hit the floor with a wet, final thud.
The remaining heads stared in stunned silence for a second before the regenerative process began, the stump bubbling to form a new one. But Hakai was already moving, a whirlwind of controlled brutality, his every movement a promise of a long and devastating dance. The warm-up had begun.