The Broken Halo

The strength inside the manifestation’s arms was far beyond what Simon’s real body could produce.

He felt it when he adjusted his grip on the hilt of the Chaos Blade.

The giant’s fingers closed around the projected sword, and the pressure spreading from that simple movement drove the dust below into a broad depression.

His physical hands had barely moved.

Size was only the most obvious change.

The Uruqath’s third eye ability gave his demonic energy a body through which it could exert more force. Its limbs could bear power that would have torn his flesh apart long before he released an attack.

Simon remained within its chest, but the strength answering him belonged to the colossal form surrounding him.

And the four seeds were making it stronger.

Wrath’s destructive power filled the giant’s arms and sword. Pride held that power to Simon’s intent, while its pressure made the surrounding wind gather behind the six enormous wings.

Greed pressed the other seeds to give more.

Gluttony and Devour supplied the demonic energy needed to sustain it.

Even so, Simon could feel his reserves falling.

The manifestation consumed power merely by existing. Moving it demanded more.

His mental energy was draining too.

He had to maintain its shape, govern the power within it, and make something larger than mountains follow the movements of a wounded body.

The cube helped distribute the energy, but it could not concentrate for him.

A dull ache grew behind his open third eye. The silver cross shone brighter as he corrected a tremor in the giant’s left hand.

He would not have many attempts.

Perhaps only one.

Simon placed his left hand beneath his right on the Chaos Blade’s hilt.

The manifestation copied him.

Above, the nested faces continued opening. Violet light filled their mouths, and the faint sound coming from them scraped against his teeth.

He chose another technique from the Sword Daemon’s Sword Art.

One downward strike.

From the outside, its movement was simple enough for a child to imitate.

The difficulty was inside the cut.

The technique required every part of the strike’s power to follow the same edge, without escaping sideways or breaking apart on the first resistance.

Even the force behind the blade had to keep feeding the act of severing.

At mastery, that terrifying concentration would produce an almost impossibly thin cut.

Simon’s proficiency was nowhere near that level.

Below average, even.

His control over demonic energy could keep the technique from collapsing, but it could not replace the understanding and practice needed to perfect its execution.

He knew what his attempt would look like.

Wasteful and enormous.

But it would still cut.

Black Chaos flames climbed the physical sword.

The manifestation’s weapon answered, fire pouring along its length until the black blade disappeared inside it.

Crimson tribulation lightning followed.

Simon forced the destructive lightning into the technique, preventing it from scattering into separate bolts. It twisted through the flames in thick, branching bands, each one drawn toward the same edge.

His real forearms shook.

Outside, the giant’s elbows rose.

The six wings spread behind its shoulders.

Pride bore down upon the world.

The air shrieked as violent winds pressed against the manifestation’s back. Loose stone lifted beneath its feet, then split apart under the gathering sword pressure.

Simon fixed his gaze upon the white head and the violet shield behind it.

He did not speak.

He brought the Chaos Blade down.

The giant swung with him.

KRRRRAAAAAAAASH!

A colossal black-and-crimson cut tore free.

Its upper reach towered above the manifestation’s horns, while its lower edge swept toward the shattered land. The whole terrible expanse surged toward the eye.

Its width was enough to swallow the broken mountains below.

Simon could feel the imperfections within it. Power spread where it should have compressed. Flames swelled along its sides, exposing how much he had failed to bind to the edge.

But beneath that wild excess, the technique held.

Everything behind the leading edge kept driving forward.

A previously severed mountain caught by the slash’s lowest reach split from its summit to its foundation. The halves had barely separated when the force behind the cut drove through the exposed mountain, shearing deeper instead of spending itself in an explosion.

Black flames filled the opening.

Crimson lightning tore along its walls.

The cut kept going.

It was not merely a larger version of the attacks Simon had been throwing against the shield.

A blast spent its strength by spreading outward.

This technique forced the power behind the impact to keep advancing into the same wound. As long as its structure held, everything contained within that colossal mass would continue feeding the attempt to cut through.

And at the same instant he released it, the white faces stopped smiling.

Every mouth opened fully.

Simon braced for the scream. However, the gathering sound vanished.

Violet light rushed outward from the deepest visible face, passed through the mouths before it, and gathered between the outermost lips.

It contracted.

Then... the violet colour faded toward white and the head released a single speck of light.

Simon stared with a stunned expression.

It looked no larger than a bead of rain.

No flames surrounded it. No lightning followed it.

It drifted down toward him.

His hands stopped at the end of their swing, and the manifestation froze with them.

Simon tried to shift his shoulder.

Nothing moved.

He pushed against the ground through the giant’s legs. The power answered, but its feet remained fixed. His wings strained without changing their position.

Within the giant’s chest, his own body was held just as firmly.

It was not the exhaustion of releasing the technique.

Something had locked him in place.

The white light descended.

Slowly enough for him to see the slight unevenness of its shape.

Fast enough that it had already crossed half the distance before he could force out a breath.

The two impressions struck him together.

Neither made sense.

Then his instincts erupted.

Simon’s eyes widened.

Every muscle in his actual body contracted at once. His stomach tightened so violently that blood rose into his throat.

Cold sweat broke across his face.

The hair along his arms stood upright. Veins swelled at his temples, and his Prime Forged Heart missed a beat before hammering hard enough to shake his chest.

His fingers tried to wrench themselves from the hilt.

But they could not move.

He had felt death approaching before.

Through betrayal.

Through the hands of gods.

Through this gaze that had crushed his limbs and driven his face into the ground.

None of it had produced a warning like this.

His body wanted to recoil from its own skin.

His soul drew inward, and a sharp pain passed through his sea of consciousness.

’What... is that?’

Pride kept his thoughts from breaking apart.

It did not give him an answer.

There was no familiar element he could identify. Nothing he recognised well enough to defend against, or even name.

Only a small white light that was coming closer.

He could not tell whether it would burn him, tear him apart, or do something for which he had no words.

The uncertainty made his jaw tighten until his teeth hurt.

’What the fuck did you send at me?’

Above the white head, the violet eyes watched.

Simon tried to move again.

His demonic energy surged.

The cube flashed inside him.

The giant remained fixed beneath the sky, its sword lowered after the completed swing.

Only the attack he had already released stood between him and that light.

His colossal slash advanced, black flames boiling around crimson lightning.

The white speck descended to meet it.

Beside that towering blade, it should have been impossible to notice.

Simon could see nothing else.

The distance closed, and the small white light touched the leading edge of his colossal sword slash.