While I attended to my business at Pison's border, overseeing the evil and wicked works of my own design, I felt a surge of power ripple through the air—a force so immense it was as though the heavenly piece had drawn a sharp breath.
It emanated from the edge of Gihon, a presence unlike any I had sensed in centuries.
Though I intended to finish my work first, it took less than a day for the source of that power to cross into Pison itself.
Such boldness demanded my attention, and I went at once to meet this curiosity.
When I arrived, I found a peculiar scene: A Fenrir, cloaked in a human guise, carrying a young girl on his back.
The wasteland of Hades border stretched around us, barren and unwelcoming, where even the sky had abandoned hope here.
Yet amidst this desolation, the girl radiated a quiet yet undeniable power. Her magical energy was on the level of a heavenly being, and she had the capability to keep it under control.
"So, it was you?" I asked, my voice slicing through the stagnant air.
The wolf leapt back, instinct wisely driving to it to put distance between us.
It muttered something—perhaps a question, perhaps a plea—but I paid it no mind.
It was beneath my notice.
The girl, however, held potential beyond measure. If I could join her into my forces, she would tip the scales of power firmly in my favor.
Of course, if she refused, there would be no choice but to eliminate her.
Such raw, unclaimed strength could not be allowed to fall into the hands of my adversaries. My plans were perfect, and I would not permit a loose thread to unravel them.
When I offered her a place by my side, her response was as cold as it was foolish. Youth often breeds such arrogance, a confidence untethered from reality.
The Fenrir, however, knew better—its every muscle tense with the understanding of the jeopardy they faced.
Should this girl reach her full potential, she could very well become the Eighth Mortal Power. The seven who already bear that title are nuisances, eternally obstructing to my designs with their stubborn resistance.
And her magic... It already stands a step above theirs. I could not risk leaving such a force unchecked.
No, this would not do. I would have to end it now.
*
I am Sarvest—THE Sarvest—the one and only proxy of Satanas upon the surface world.
My dominion is not merely a matter of power but of certainties, for I wield two impeccable abilities that set me above the rest.
The first of these is the power to retract myself from existence.
Lesser minds and feeble creatures might mistake this for teleportation or a speed so swift it borders on the instantaneous.
Such misconceptions are the product of ignorance, I reckon. What I truly do is step beyond the systemized framework of existence itself.
I become imperceptible, not by hiding but by ceasing to exist within the boundaries of life and the heavenly pieces.
I remain present, however, just outside the reach of every sense, every method of detection known to be.
And yet...
The Fenrir had undergone a grotesque transformation.
Its form became a twisted compound of man and beast: its head now a black wolf's, its arms from the elbows and legs from the knees down turned to beast limbs.
Its body retained a human shape, but the sight was an unsightly scar on nature itself.
This lowly mutt did not merely react to my non-existent approach—it intercepted it. Its jaws closed around my arm, and with a sickening wrench, tore it from my body.
Impossible.
My second authority is invulnerability—absolute and unyielding.
In the truest sense, nothing physical, spiritual, or mental can harm me. This is not merely a boast but a fundamental law of the cosmos.
Only a scarce few among the heavenly beings—and the first man created—hold even a marginal chance of injuring me. And even they would struggle to do so.
This truth is well known to those with the wisdom to fear me.
Yet, here I stood, with my left arm severed, the wound raw and real.
How could this be?
The notion was as absurd as rain falling upward.
And then there was the girl.
Another anomaly.
Despite my departure from existence and my sudden reappearance mere inches from her, she showed no fear. Her expression remained serene, uninterested even—as if I had been standing there all along.
In truth, I believe she had "seen" me even before I chose to reenter the world.
The wolf spat out my severed arm and leapt a considerable distance away, settling into a battle stance.
How bizarre. This lowly cur truly believed it could stand against me.
But... It's strange, both of them.
Neither the wolf nor the girl bore the outward signs of true threat; to a lesser eye, they might even appear mundane.
The girl, despite possessing more than half my magical power, did not seem to warrant true alarm—until I considered a troubling possibility.
Could I be underestimating her?
Might it be that she had managed to suppress the full breadth of her magical energy? It was not impossible.
The phenomenon of humans gaining abilities stemmed from Namadris—the first man. Though I had played a hand in that event, the unintended consequences were now a thorn in my side.
As for the insufferable cur, the only plausible explanation for its impudence was also an ability—perhaps several world-class abilities.
Hmm. I best not take them too lightly then.
Then, to my mild surprise, the wolf's form shifted. His grotesque hybrid state receded, leaving behind a fully human figure.
Its hair, now a radiant blonde, shimmered even in this wasteland's dim light. Its physique had also transformed, muscles coiling beneath its skin with an unsettling power.
That... was not supposed to be possible.
The wolf was a creature of darkness—one of the Principalities of shadow. Yet, its golden hair shone with unmistakable holy energy.
That's dangerous.
Darkness and holiness could not coexist within the same vessel. It defied the natural laws, not only of the world but of the heavens themselves.
Could it have altered the very nature of its own body to accept holy power?
What a monster.
But holy power from where?
My musing deepened as it produced a relic—a low-tier divine artifact, little more than trinket in my eyes.
It was laughable to think such a thing could harm me. Even the heavens' most exquisite blades would scarcely graze a strand of my hair.
Then it shed his jacket, tying the girl securely to his back. Its expression hardened, a blend of determination and resignation.
And it charged.
Amusing.
Did it truly believe a frontal assault would succeed?
Still, there was something in its stride—something more than mere audacity.
Perhaps, for the first time in centuries, I might be entertained.
My arm, stubbornly refusing to regenerate, stood as a stark reminder that something was amiss.
No matter.
My right arm alone was more than sufficient to crush this insolent creature.
And so, we engaged.
*
Time and again, I employed my power to retract myself from existence—my most formidable technique.
To those unworthy of the truth, it might seem like instantaneous speed or teleportation. But in truth, I was slipping through the fabric of reality itself.
It should have made me untouchable. Yet, every time I materialized to strike, it was already there, meeting me head-on.
This was no fluke.
The mutt possessed an ability unlike any I had encountered—something beyond the realm of common sense concerning special abilities. Its reactions were too precise, its counters too deliberate.
It deftly avoided a sharp slash of my arm, leaping back to create distance. Its sharp eyes narrowed, and a low growl rumbled from its chest.
Clever.
It had discerned that its raw strength had wounded me more than its so-called divine weapon.
The black lightning sword, despite its direct hits, had done little to nothing to me. But the cur's teeth—those had stripped my arm from its socket effortlessly.
Then, to my astonishment, it consumed its sword.
A dense fog, darker than a starless night, formed from itself a jaw that snapped down on the blade. The weapon vanished, its essence swallowed whole.
Immediately, the wolf's aura shifted, and its hair bled from blonde to pitch black. Black lightning crackled along its skin, becoming one with his being.
It had assimilated the sword's power.
Its attribute had shifted to darkness yet again.
I felt an unfamiliar sensation—a twinge of disbelief.
Is this mutt…
I'm I being threatened?