Halochassis

As Lireina’s height increased, her clothing changed along with her body. The fabric of her dress shimmered briefly before transforming into a short white and green dress adorned with delicate floral patterns. Its frilly hem swayed around her thighs whenever she moved, while the green leaves and white blossoms gave her an appearance that contrasted sharply with the battlefield surrounding her. Wind energy gathered around her feet, swirling like invisible currents that stirred the hem of her dress and lifted strands of her long golden hair. With the wind itself responding to her movements, Lireina stood ready to face the army of armored soldiers without a hint of fear on her face.

“Attack!” One of the Archangels shouted as he pointed his sword at Lireina. 

The other Archangels roared in response, their voices echoing throughout the enormous throne room as they activated their magical boosters. Flames and concentrated bursts of mana erupted from the thrusters mounted on their power armors, propelling the mass-produced Halochassis forward in a coordinated assault. Their armored feet struck the polished floor with heavy metallic thuds, and the hum of their engines grew louder as they closed the distance. Within seconds, a hundred armored warriors surrounded Lireina, their drawn swords reflecting the light from the magical lamps hanging above the throne room.

The first wave of swords came crashing down upon her from every direction. Steel blades sliced through the air with sharp whistles, aiming for her head, shoulders, waist, and legs, but Lireina slipped between them with astonishing precision. She twisted her body sideways, ducked beneath a horizontal slash, and spun around an incoming attacker before his sword could reach her. Her movements were so fluid that she seemed to be dancing through a storm of steel rather than fighting an army. Whenever an Archangel exposed an opening, Lireina immediately punished the mistake with a powerful kick enhanced by wind magic. The resulting impacts sent armored bodies flying across the throne room, where they crashed against the floor with deafening clangs. Some skidded across the polished stone, while others slammed into their comrades hard enough to send several more soldiers tumbling into a heap of tangled limbs and broken armor.

Lireina continued to weave through the advancing ranks, sidestepping one attacker before dropping into a low tumble beneath another soldier’s sweeping blade. She sprang back to her feet with the aid of the wind gathering beneath her soles, then leaped over a pair of Archangels attempting to attack her from opposite sides. Their swords collided with a shower of sparks after she passed between them, leaving both warriors momentarily off balance. Before either could recover, Lireina landed behind them and delivered two swift, wind-enhanced kicks to their backs. The force sent them crashing into the floor, their armor plates rattling as their magical boosters sputtered uselessly. She followed up by bending backward to evade another sword thrust, then pivoted on one foot and swept the attacker’s legs out from under him. Whether she dodged, tumbled, jumped, or bent her body at impossible angles, Lireina always seemed to have just enough room to avoid the incoming blades. Her counterattacks were equally relentless, combining graceful footwork with enough raw power to knock armored warriors unconscious in a single blow.

The battle continued as more Archangels rushed to fill the gaps left by their fallen comrades. Their coordinated formations gradually broke apart as Lireina exploited every opening, turning their numerical advantage into a growing obstacle. Fallen soldiers blocked the paths of those still fighting, while shattered armor components and discarded swords littered the floor. Despite their superior equipment and overwhelming numbers, the mass-produced Halochassis struggled to keep up with a woman who had spent years fighting opponents far more dangerous than themselves. 

Meanwhile, the First Prince of Empyrea watched the battle from a safe distance, his expression remaining composed as he studied Lireina’s movements. Rather than allowing his frustration to cloud his judgment, Alaric carefully analyzed the efficiency of his troops, the timing of their attacks, and the limitations of their equipment.

“As I thought. These Archangels are only at least twenty percent as efficient as the original five. But what they lack in strength, they will compensate with their numbers,” Alaric said. His eyes followed Lireina as she slipped past another sword and sent its wielder crashing into the floor with a single kick. He had expected the mass-produced Halochassis to struggle against an opponent of her caliber, but their performance confirmed his suspicions about the limitations of mass production. 

Replicating the original five Halochassis was apparently not as simple as reproducing their armor designs and magical systems. Nevertheless, he had not deployed an entire army merely to demonstrate their individual strength. Even if each Archangel possessed only a fraction of the originals’ combat efficiency, a hundred armored soldiers attacking simultaneously could overwhelm most opponents through sheer numbers alone. Unfortunately for him, Lireina was proving to be an exception.

The number of Archangels continued to dwindle. Of the original one hundred soldiers, only thirty remained standing, and not a single one had managed to inflict even a scratch on Lireina. The throne room had become a graveyard of discarded weapons and disabled power armor, with the groans of unconscious soldiers occasionally breaking the metallic clatter of the ongoing battle. Yet Lireina’s breathing remained steady, and her movements showed no noticeable signs of exhaustion. The wind surrounding her feet continued to swirl, carrying tiny flecks of dust across the floor whenever she changed direction. She glanced at the remaining Archangels with a confident smile, as though their continued attempts to defeat her were nothing more than an amusing exercise.

“It doesn’t matter how many of these tin-can warriors you throw at me...” Lireina said, her smile widening as she danced around another group of charging Archangels. 

She leaned away from an incoming sword, planted one foot against the floor, and launched herself sideways with a burst of wind. The blade passed harmlessly in front of her face before she retaliated with a kick that sent its wielder tumbling backward. 

“I have spent a lot of time fighting the original five Halochassis, including Semjaza.” Her experience fighting the original machines had taught her how to recognize the subtle differences between their movements, their attack patterns, and the way their pilots controlled their armor. Compared with those battles, the Archangels were far more predictable. Their numbers might have made them dangerous to ordinary soldiers, but they lacked the individual skill and adaptability necessary to corner someone who had already survived encounters with the original five.

“Oh, of course.” Alaric smiled, showing no apparent concern as another Archangel fell. “Semjaza, the one that got away. But it does not matter, as I have more armored soldiers in stock.” He spoke with the confidence of a man who had prepared for the possibility of losing an entire unit before the battle had even begun. His eyes briefly shifted toward the throne room’s entrance, where additional reinforcements could be summoned if necessary. 

However, he understood that sending more ordinary Archangels would accomplish little beyond filling the room with even more unconscious soldiers and broken machinery. Lireina had already demonstrated that she could dismantle their formations without suffering meaningful injuries, and continuing the same strategy would only waste resources that might prove more valuable elsewhere.

Lireina soon put down the last of the Archangels. The final soldier attempted to bring his sword down upon her, but she slipped past the blade and drove a wind-enhanced kick into his chest. The impact lifted his armored body off the floor before sending him crashing onto his back with a resounding metallic bang. His sword clattered away across the floor, joining the dozens of weapons scattered throughout the throne room. When the echoes finally faded, no Archangels remained standing. The once-imposing chamber was now crowded with unconscious soldiers, shattered power armor, and fragments of metal that glittered beneath the overhead lights. Lireina stood in the middle of the wreckage, her floral dress barely disturbed by the fight, while the wind around her feet gradually settled.

Alaric could have ordered another wave of Archangels to attack, but doing so would have achieved little beyond making the already crowded throne room even more difficult to navigate. More importantly, he was saving his main army for an opponent who was practically unbeatable under ordinary circumstances. Wasting his strongest forces against Lireina before the real battle began would be an unnecessary gamble, especially when he still had another weapon capable of testing her limits. His expression remained calm as he considered his options, and the faint smile on his lips suggested that the destruction of an entire unit had done little to diminish his confidence. If anything, Lireina’s performance had convinced him that it was time to introduce someone who could offer her a proper challenge.

And so, Alaric decided to summon the captain of his Halochassis Army. He raised his chin slightly, his gaze fixed upon Lireina as the atmosphere inside the throne room seemed to grow heavier. Unlike the Archangels, the warrior he was about to summon was not merely another mass-produced soldier intended to overwhelm his enemies through sheer numbers. This was a combatant entrusted with leading his armored forces, someone whose strength justified a position far above the ordinary ranks. Alaric drew a quiet breath before speaking, his voice cutting through the silence left by the fallen soldiers.

“Come forth, Apollyon,” Alaric whispered.

The moment his words left his mouth, a powerful explosion erupted in the middle of the throne room. A thunderous boom shook the chamber, and the shock wave swept across the floor, scattering loose armor fragments and sending clouds of dust billowing into the air. Lireina immediately raised an arm to shield her face as the sudden blast battered her with hot, dusty air. The hem of her dress fluttered wildly, and her golden hair whipped across her shoulders while the thick smoke obscured her vision. She narrowed her green eyes and tried to peer through the swirling haze, but the dust was too dense to reveal whatever had just appeared. The lingering smell of scorched metal and burned mana filled her nostrils, while the floor beneath her feet vibrated from the force of the explosion.

Gradually, the dusty smoke began to disperse, revealing a towering silhouette standing at the center of the devastated throne room. Lireina lowered her arm and stared at the newcomer as his full appearance emerged from the haze. The figure was a crimson and violet Halochassis standing approximately four meters tall, its enormous frame dwarfing the mass-produced Archangels scattered across the floor. 

Its armor was composed of thick, overlapping plates, with crimson surfaces contrasting against deep violet sections that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. The machine’s broad shoulders and imposing limbs gave it an intimidating presence, while its heavy armor suggested that it had been designed to withstand devastating attacks rather than rely on agility alone. Among the Halochassis in Alaric’s entire roster, this was probably the largest of them all.

The crimson and violet Halochassis reached for its massive buster sword and brought the weapon into position, its movements accompanied by the grinding of heavy mechanical joints. The enormous blade looked capable of cleaving through ordinary power armor in a single swing, and its edge reflected a dull purple glow from the magical energy gathering within the weapon. 

Moments later, purple flames erupted from the machine’s vents, spilling out in fierce bursts that illuminated the surrounding wreckage. The fire crackled against the metal plating, releasing waves of heat that disturbed the dusty air and made the nearby fragments of broken armor glow faintly beneath their reflections. Unlike the relatively restrained boosters of the Archangels, Apollyon’s flames seemed almost alive, surging from its body with an intensity that made the throne room feel several degrees hotter.

“Behold the presence of the most powerful Halochassis, Apollyon,” Alaric declared, his smile growing as the towering machine took its place before Lireina. He gestured toward the crimson and violet armor as though presenting a masterpiece that had finally been brought before its intended audience. “It is the destroyer fallen angel.” 

His words echoed throughout the chamber, carrying a note of pride that contrasted with the devastation surrounding him. Apollyon did not need to roar or announce its arrival with unnecessary theatrics. Its enormous frame, burning vents, and dreadful weapon were enough to establish its presence. Even among the wreckage of a hundred defeated soldiers, the captain of the Halochassis Army stood out as something altogether different.

Apollyon then raised its buster sword before driving the enormous blade into the stone floor. The impact produced a deep, resounding crash that sent cracks spreading beneath its feet, while fragments of shattered stone jumped into the air. A heartbeat later, purple flames burst outward from the embedded sword, racing across the floor in a rapidly expanding circle. The supernatural fire spread around the entire throne room, forming a blazing ring that surrounded Lireina and cut off the open space around her. Waves of heat rolled over the battlefield, and the violet glow painted the fallen Archangels, broken weapons, and towering pillars in eerie colors. Lireina watched the flames with narrowed eyes, her earlier smile fading slightly as she assessed the new threat. The wind continued to stir around her feet, but now it carried the bitter scent of scorched stone and the oppressive heat of Apollyon’s purple fire.

At that moment, Lireina felt the temperature inside the throne room rise to an unbearable degree. The intense heat radiating from the purple flames prickled against her exposed skin, and beads of sweat began to form on her forehead and trickle down her cheeks. Even the air she breathed felt uncomfortably warm, carrying the acrid smell of scorched stone and burning metal into her lungs. She glanced at the ring of unholy fire surrounding the battlefield, realizing that its effects extended beyond merely creating a barrier. 

The flames were steadily heating the entire chamber, turning the already devastated throne room into something resembling an enormous furnace. Lireina could feel the warmth seeping through the soles of her feet, and the wind circulating around her ankles struggled to provide even the slightest relief. Before she could investigate the strange flames any further, Apollyon pulled his enormous buster sword out of the ground, sending a shower of stone fragments scattering across the floor.

“Get ready for your death, Untouchable Windwalker!” Apollyon roared. His mechanical voice reverberated through the throne room, accompanied by the crackling of purple flames erupting from the vents in his crimson and violet armor. He raised his massive buster sword over his shoulder before bringing it down with tremendous force, releasing a crescent-shaped slash of purple fire that raced toward Lireina. 

The attack tore through the heated air with a deafening roar, leaving a trail of violet embers in its wake. Lireina immediately threw herself into a sideways tumble, rolling across the stone floor just as the fiery slash passed through the space where she had been standing. The blast of heat brushed against her body, and she felt a sharp sting across her left shoulder. She quickly regained her footing and glanced down at the affected area, only to discover that the edge of her shoulder had been slightly burnt. A faint wisp of smoke rose from her skin, and the acrid smell of singed fabric reached her nose. Although the injury was minor, the fact that she had been hit at all was enough to make her expression change.

At that moment, Alaric smiled from his position near the throne. He had been waiting to see whether his creation could overcome the extraordinary abilities of a Celestial Warden, and Lireina’s injury provided the confirmation he needed. The Unholy Flames were functioning exactly as intended, bypassing the very blessings that had made the legendary heroes so difficult to defeat. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as Apollyon prepared another attack, the purple fire around its armor growing brighter with every passing second.

“And so, the Unholy Flames of Apollyon really do work,” Alaric said, sounding almost pleased with himself. He watched Lireina carefully, observing how she moved after suffering the unexpected injury. Unlike the mass-produced Archangels, Apollyon had managed to damage her with its very first attack, and that alone made the enormous investment in its construction worthwhile. 

Alaric had not merely wanted a powerful Halochassis capable of destroying ordinary enemies. He had wanted a weapon that could challenge the Celestial Wardens themselves, whose supernatural abilities had rendered conventional military strength practically useless. Now, as purple flames danced across the floor, he finally had proof that his engineers had succeeded.

“What is this?” Lireina gasped, her eyes widening as she examined her burnt shoulder. She could not understand why her usual defensive abilities had failed to protect her from such a relatively straightforward attack. Ordinarily, her Autonomous Evasion would have guided her body away from danger before an incoming strike could even reach her. Yet the fiery slash had somehow managed to graze her despite her extraordinary reflexes. 

Before she could investigate the cause, Apollyon swung his buster sword again, unleashing another crescent of purple flames. Lireina hurriedly twisted her body to avoid the attack, feeling the heat brush against her cheek as the projectile passed by. A second slash followed almost immediately, then a third, forcing her to abandon any attempt at understanding the phenomenon while the enemy continued his relentless assault.

Lireina soon realized that something was terribly wrong with her Autonomous Evasion. The supernatural ability that had allowed her to evade attacks with seemingly effortless precision was no longer functioning as it should. She could still move quickly enough to avoid most of Apollyon’s attacks, but she could no longer rely on her blessings to guide her movements automatically. Every dodge now required her to observe the incoming projectile, calculate its trajectory, and physically move out of its path before it reached her. The difference was enormous. Lireina had spent years relying on her enhanced instincts and divine protection, allowing her to survive battles against opponents whose attacks would have overwhelmed ordinary warriors. 

Without those advantages, she had to depend entirely on her own judgment and physical ability. She bent backward to avoid one slash, jumped over another, and rolled across the floor to escape a third. Despite her best efforts, several fiery projectiles grazed her body, burning small patches of fabric along the hem of her white and green floral dress. The scorched cloth curled at the edges, and the smell of burnt flowers and singed material mixed with the stench of the surrounding flames. Lireina clenched her teeth as sweat trickled down her neck, knowing that she could not afford to keep fighting like this for much longer.

The truth behind Apollyon’s terrifying power was that the Unholy Flames had been specifically designed as the ultimate countermeasure against the Celestial Wardens. Rather than relying solely on destructive force, the flames interfered with the divine blessings bestowed upon the heroes by the Goddess. Their effect extended throughout a designated area, creating a zone in which the Wardens could no longer depend on their supernatural protections as they normally would. 

The principle behind this ability was simple but horrifying: the flames simulated the conditions of Hell itself, a place where the Goddess’s prayers could not reach her followers. Within that environment, the divine advantages that had once made the Celestial Wardens nearly untouchable could be suppressed, leaving them vulnerable to attacks they would ordinarily evade or withstand without difficulty. 

Alaric had entrusted the development of this weapon to the finest professors and magical engineers in Empyrea, ordering them to construct, or rather reconstruct, the power associated with the Angel of Destruction. Through painstaking research and the combination of advanced magical engineering with ancient knowledge, they had recreated a terrifying approximation of that fallen being’s destructive authority. Apollyon was the result of their efforts, a Halochassis designed not simply to match the strength of the Celestial Wardens, but to strip away the very advantages that made them legendary.

Lireina could feel the situation growing increasingly desperate as more purple flame slashes swept toward her. The heat was becoming suffocating, her dress was beginning to show signs of damage, and her burnt shoulder throbbed whenever she moved it. If she continued to fight defensively while relying on her ordinary abilities, she would eventually make a mistake and suffer an injury far worse than a minor burn. Another slash tore across the floor in front of her, forcing her to leap backward as sparks scattered around her feet. She landed in a crouch, her golden hair clinging to her damp forehead, and stared at Apollyon through the shimmering waves of heat. 

She had underestimated the danger posed by the Unholy Flames, and she could no longer afford to hold back. Taking a deep breath, Lireina gathered the nature energy flowing through her body and concentrated it toward her heart. The energy pulsed beneath her chest, spreading a warm sensation through her limbs as she summoned the strength necessary to unleash her next transformation.

“Activating Third Form!” Lireina shouted.

A brilliant surge of nature energy erupted from her body, momentarily illuminating the throne room with a radiant white and green glow. The damaged fabric of her short floral dress shimmered before transforming into an elegant evening gown that flowed around her legs. White flower ornaments sprouted from her golden hair and spread across the fabric of her dress, their delicate petals contrasting beautifully with the purple flames surrounding her. The transformation carried a faint floral fragrance that briefly cut through the smell of smoke and scorched stone. At the same time, ten magical flintlocks materialized in the air around her, their metallic surfaces gleaming as intricate patterns of nature magic illuminated their barrels. The weapons floated independently, rotating until their muzzles aligned with Apollyon’s enormous frame. Lireina raised her chin and extended one hand, directing the floating firearms toward her opponent. A series of sharp reports immediately thundered through the throne room as all ten flintlocks opened fire, unleashing a barrage of magical bullets that streaked through the heated air.

The projectiles struck Apollyon’s crimson and violet armor in rapid succession. Each impact produced a sharp metallic crack, sending sparks and fragments of armor scattering across the floor. The magical bullets punched through the outer plating, leaving holes and chipped sections across the Halochassis’s chest, shoulders, and limbs. Several rounds struck the same locations repeatedly, widening the damage until pieces of armor broke away and clattered against the stone. 

Apollyon staggered slightly beneath the concentrated barrage, its massive frame momentarily obscured by the flashes of gunfire and drifting clouds of dust. Yet despite the visible destruction, the magical display on its armor revealed something deeply unsettling. Its Hybrid Armor remained at one hundred percent. The damage was real, and chunks of its protective plating had clearly been destroyed, but the system registered no reduction in its overall armor integrity.

“What? How!?” Alaric muttered, his confident smile finally disappearing. He leaned forward as he watched the flintlocks continue firing, unable to reconcile the damage inflicted upon Apollyon with the unchanged armor percentage. He had expected Lireina to struggle against the Unholy Flames, particularly after witnessing how effectively they had interfered with her Autonomous Evasion. 

Yet she had not only adapted to the situation but had also produced a weapon capable of penetrating Apollyon’s supposedly formidable defenses. The prince’s eyes narrowed as he attempted to understand the source of her newfound advantage. Had his engineers overlooked something during the development of the Halochassis, or had Lireina concealed an ability specifically suited to fighting machines like his?

“You’re not the only one who is preparing a countermeasure against your enemies, Your Majesty,” Lireina said, her voice carrying a confident edge as the floating flintlocks continued to hover around her. She glanced toward Alaric without losing sight of Apollyon, making it clear that she had anticipated the possibility of facing enemies who could counter her divine abilities. 

What Lireina possessed were Anti-Angel Magic Bullets, a specialized skill bestowed upon her by the Elder of the Elven Village. The technique originated from an ancient spell developed eons ago, when the elves needed a way to fight Fallen Angels whose supernatural abilities made ordinary weapons ineffective. Rather than relying on brute force alone, the spell imbued projectiles with magical properties specifically suited to penetrating and damaging beings associated with angelic power. 

The knowledge had survived through generations of elven tradition, and Lireina had learned to apply it in a form that allowed her to create and wield magical ammunition with extraordinary precision. Against ordinary enemies, such specialized projectiles might have been unnecessary, but against Halochassis that incorporated extraordinary magical properties into their armor, they provided a decisive advantage. The fact that Apollyon’s Hybrid Armor remained at one hundred percent despite the destruction of its plating only made the importance of her bullets more apparent. Lireina was not merely damaging its exterior. She was exploiting a weakness that Alaric’s engineers had failed to account for, turning an ancient elven spell into a weapon capable of challenging the most powerful Halochassis in Empyrea.

With her opponent momentarily occupied by the damage inflicted upon his armor, Lireina extended both hands and began constructing an even larger weapon. Nature energy gathered in front of her, forming the outline of an enormous magical cannon. Its barrel gradually took shape from layers of luminous energy, while intricate white and green markings appeared along its surface. The air vibrated as the weapon accumulated power, and the floating flintlocks shifted position to provide cover while Lireina prepared her finishing attack. She concentrated her Anti-Angel Magic into a single massive projectile, condensing the ancient spell until the ammunition glowed with an intense, almost blinding radiance. The cannon’s interior filled with swirling energy, producing a rising hum that grew louder with every passing second. Lireina planted her feet firmly against the stone floor, braced herself behind the enormous weapon, and aimed directly at Apollyon’s battered armor.

“Now let’s see who you really are, Apollyon!” Lireina shouted. Her green eyes remained fixed on the towering Halochassis as the cannon reached full charge, its magical markings shining brightly against the surrounding darkness. “Shooter’s Finale!”

The cannon discharged with an explosive roar. A concentrated blast of Anti-Angel Magic surged from its barrel, carrying the enormous magical projectile straight toward Apollyon. The force of the discharge sent a shock wave rippling across the throne room, stirring up dust and scattering loose fragments of broken armor. The projectile struck Apollyon squarely, unleashing a brilliant flash that swallowed the crimson and violet machine in a violent explosion of magical energy. Its armor shattered beneath the impact, sending enormous chunks of metal flying in every direction. Fragments slammed into the floor and pillars, while smaller pieces spun through the air before clattering across the battlefield. The shock wave swept through the surrounding purple flames, making them flicker wildly as the smell of scorched metal and discharged magic filled the chamber. For a brief moment, Apollyon’s towering frame disappeared behind the blinding light and expanding cloud of smoke.

Lireina lowered her arms slightly as the explosion subsided, keeping her gaze fixed on the damaged Halochassis. The cannon’s magical glow gradually faded, leaving behind drifting particles of nature energy that dissolved into the heated air. As the smoke began to clear, the ruined armor around Apollyon’s head and upper body became visible. 

The shattered plating had exposed the person inside, revealing a familiar face beneath the remnants of the crimson and violet machine. He was a man with dark blue hair, a prominent scar across his face, and eyes burning with unmistakable rage. Despite the devastating attack, his expression remained fierce, and his fluffy scarf fluttered in the turbulent wind stirred up by the explosion. Lireina stared at him in disbelief, her confident expression giving way to genuine shock as she recognized the man she had once believed lost.

“Adzeel Schwarzer,” Lireina muttered, her voice barely audible beneath the crackling of the remaining purple flames. Her eyes widened as she took in his scarred face, struggling to reconcile the man before her with the fate she had assumed he suffered. For a moment, she simply stood there, unable to hide her astonishment. “I thought you were dead.”