"Oh man, my clothes are all stained." Mikado sighed, trying to wipe off the darkened blood from his clothes. Instead, he spread the stains even more…
"You're making it worse pal." Saku called out the obvious.
"Shut up, I know."
Behind him, the corpse of the creature lay—bullet holes in its cranium.
"Shoot, it got my gun dirty too! Damn it!" Mikado tried swiping off the goo off his pistol, staining his own hands and making an even bigger mess than before.
"This is pointless, you suck at trying to keep clean." Saku muttered in disappointment. Not even teasing anymore.
Mikado pulled his own face in frustration. "Man, whatever. You're not even helping me—just lead the way out now." He mumbled under his breath.
"Okay, so go straight, then left, and—"
On the other side, things… weren't going to well.
"Mikami! Watch your head!" Kokuine shouted as a warning.
Mikami ducked as a claw cleaved the rock above him. "Damn, this thing is strong! We've shot it about eight times and it's still fighting…?"
"Kokuine, now!" Yoriko called out, throwing a stun grenade into the air.
Kokuine pivoted, leaping into the air as the grenade entered his palms. "Thanks, Yoriko!" He exclaimed—cheerful as ever.
The creature swiped at his direction, narrowly missing him by a hair.
Kokuine landed with a thud, scattering dust as he crashed. "Eat this!" He pulled the pin and chucked the grenade at the creature.
The grenade detonated point blank in the creature's face, causing it to jerk back—dazed and disoriented.
"That's our chance! Run!" Kokuine exhorted, breaking into a full sprint—the others following in close pursuit.
The creature shrugged off the grenade, growling low as it came back to its senses.
"You… I'll tear you all apart…" The creature muttered—low and menacing, claws scraping the rough marbling of the hallway.
It too, began to chase.
On the Flying Beauty, the engines roared as the remaining flying beasts circled around the airship—searching for a weakness to exploit.
"Keep it firing Gan!" Tenma barked, summoning pillars of light that swallowed the beasts. Though, they pale in comparison to the great beam displayed by the Archangel.
Streaks of light ripped through the air as Gan's cannon rearranged and reconstructed itself into a gatling gun. "GET RIPPED BABY!"
"Kael, how does it feel to not get any action today?" Idris mocked—swinging a pistol with a ring engraved on the handle. "Sucks to be close range, doesn't it?"
"Oh, shut up." Kael muttered, pulling his hood up as he leaned on the railing. "How about you let down the defences and let them come to me?"
"Nah." Idris spoke blankly.
Kael's fingers coiled around the handle of his sword as he looked at him. "Don't be a bother."
"Well, we can't do that." Idris stretched his back as he fired a round of an electrifying bullet through a beast's head.
"As you can see, Angel has begun his move for the first time since he got here, how about we just let him do the work."
Shun got up from the seat behind them. "Move, move, move, I gotta record this." He aimed his phone-like device towards the floating speck in the sky—glowing like a star.
From above, Archangel floated—passive and idle, analysing the behemoth.
"Well, wanna play?" He spoke ever so gently, like a raindrop dancing on the petals of a flower.
The behemoth stared. As if planning something. Then its mouth opened, revealing the gigantic rows of human-like teeth—the size of skyscrapers—a human like mouth inside those jaws. And even deeper, a gigantic crimson eye unveiled itself—beautiful but dangerous.
Archangel shifted his glasses as his ever-soft look twisted serious.
"I see."
Then, the behemoth spoke.
"Apex Metamorphosis: World-Moving Mountain."
A shroud of dark energy engulfed the behemoth—reshaping it into something truly terrifying.
Something unseen.
"Hey, what's happening?" A soldier mounted on an artillery cannon called out.
Whispers and murmurs rang out across the fleet.
This was new.
As the shroud dissipated, it revealed… nothing?
For several seconds after the shroud dispersed—nothing happened.
No explosions.
No roars.
No shockwaves.
Even the flying beasts went still.
Across the decks of the 3rd Fleet, crewmen waited, tense fingers resting on triggers, eyes glued to the empty space where the behemoth should have been.
"…Did we kill it?" A soldier asked.
The sensors blared.
"Negative—essence readings still present!"
"But there's nothing there!"
"Visual confirmation failing—I repeat, there is nothing on screen!"
The sensors began screaming.
"WARNING! Essence signature rising!"
Gunners scanned the sky wildly. Scouts leaned over railings, squinting through scopes.
Then a junior technician spoke, voice trembling.
"…Sir, I think… I think it's just really far way."
The officer snapped back. "Really far away? It was just right there!
The technician swallowed hard. "No… I think…" His breath hitched. "It's not far."
"It's small."
The realisation spread like poison.
Magnification levels jumped up—10x, 50x, 100x, 200x—
And then someone blurted out.
"There—THERE! OVER THERE! ON THE SKYLINE!"
There it was.
A figure.
Barely visible.
No bigger than a human silhouette at that distance, standing impossibly still in the open sky—so small it had been swallowed by scale and expectation.
Then a moment of silence crashed over the fleet.
"That's…"
"…No way."
"Is that it…?"
"…That can't be…"
"That's the category 5?"
The camera feed zoomed further.
The figure sharpened.
The feed revealed it…
It was humanoid.
Two arms, two legs. Jagged like blades hardened by lightning.
A torso of stone and essence interwoven like muscle and armour.
The head—faceless, an uncanny human mouth, fissures where eyes should be—looking like tectonic plates. A single vertical slit in the middle, glowing crimson.
It wasn't towering, nor was it large.
It was the size of us now.
And it was watching.
"Oh lord…" a gunner whispered. "It shrank."
"No…" another crewman hesitated. "It's stronger…"
As if on cue, the figure levitated forward, the air rippling outward in a perfect circle.
Not from weight.
But from intent.
Every soldier felt it in their chests—like they were being sized up.
"…It's standing like us," someone muttered.
"…Why does it know how to do that?"
Reports flooded the command decks across the fleet.
"Essence levels rising!"
"Essence density is localising!"
"That thing has increased its output by nearly 70%!"
The air paused.
"Do not call me 'thing.'"
The behemoth spoke, low and firm.
The officer fell onto his back. "…It heard me…?!"
"My name is Tohil."
Their fear shifted.
A mountain was terrifying.
A vocal, thinking shape was worse.
And then, far above the fleet, Archangel stopped.
His wings of light dimmed slightly, no longer blazing with effortless dominance. His head tilted, eyes narrowing—not from the threat, but from recognition.
"…Interesting," he murmured, watching Tohil float to his altitude.
The glow around Archangel tightened, no longer spilling outward. Focused. Drawn inward like a blade being forged.
"So, that's your answer, Tohil." Archangel said calmly.
"You really shouldn't go there."