"Hah… hah… There's no way I'm dying in a place !"
From beneath the shattered ruins of the old church, a white-haired man clawed his way out, dragging his mangled body across the rubble.
Both of his legs were crushed—nothing but shredded flesh and bone—and his entire body was riddled with deep wounds. And yet, somehow, he was still alive. Clinging stubbornly to life like a cockroach that refused to die.
Even Akira had to admit, the man's sheer tenacity was almost impressive.
In the original story, this man was one of the early villains.
He had once worked with Raynare and later participated in the Holy Sword incident triggered by Kokabiel. Back then, he was defeated by Kiba's Holy Sword and Xenovia's Durandal. Later, his body was modified by the Khaos Brigade into some kind of monster, but he still ended up being sliced to pieces by a much-stronger Kiba.
His name was Freed Sellzen—a former exorcist prodigy, who'd become famous by the age of thirteen for his achievements in slaying Devils and monsters.
But he showed no mercy toward humans either. From the beginning, he had no faith or belief—only hatred toward all things 'inhuman' and an unhealthy obsession with battle.
His end was tragic. Then again, for a lunatic like him, perhaps it was more merciful than he deserved.
"You… you reek of Devil filth! You must die… die!"
The moment he laid eyes on Akira, Freed's first reaction wasn't fear—it was rage. His eyes burned with hatred and madness.
He really was insane. Completely unhinged.
"You poor soul… allow me to end your suffering."
A surge of blue lightning exploded from Akira's hand. A thunderclap echoed through the sky as the Divine Bolt struck Freed down in an instant.
His life vanished without a sound.
[You have gained 1% Template Inheritance!]
Just as expected. Despite his stubborn endurance, Freed was ultimately low-level trash. Against Akira's current power, he never stood a chance.
Suddenly, the slow sound of clapping echoed through the air.
Akira turned sharply, immediately activating his detection skill.
In less than a second, he sensed it—a dense magical presence, monstrous in scale. One that instinctively sent chills down his spine.
A figure stepped out from behind the crumbling ruins, and Akira's expression turned grim.
The man wore a loose, gray-brown kimono. A single lock of messy blonde hair hung over his forehead. He looked like a lazy, middle-aged man who'd given up on life and decided to cosplay a monk.
But Akira knew exactly who this man was—not from his face, but from the overwhelming aura he exuded.
Compared to him, Akira was nothing more than an insect. The difference in power was immeasurable.
"Young man," the man spoke, his voice lazy and indifferent. "You went and slaughtered all those Fallen Angels here. Do you have some kind of grudge against them?"
"Then your actions are… difficult to justify."
"I don't need to justify them."
"Well~ you're definitely making things complicated for me, you know."
The man scratched his head like an overworked employee thinking about his overdue report.
And yet… Akira caught it. Beneath the casual tone, there was a sharp, undeniable surge of killing intent.
No matter what excuses one could make, the Fallen Angels Akira had just slaughtered were still under this man's command. Even if he didn't care about them personally, killing them right in front of their Governor was practically asking for death.
That's right—this man was Azazel, Governor-General of the Fallen Angels. The sole leader of the central Grigori organization—Watchers of God's Children—and a being on par with the Maou of the Devils and the Seraphim of the Angels.
Akira had always wondered—after reaching the level of High-Class Devil, just how far was the gap to someone of Maou-class?
Now, standing face to face with one, he understood.
Even though the gap between High-Class and Maou-class was technically only one tier, the difference in power was indescribable.
Even at the peak of High-Class, if one hadn't stepped into the Maou realm, they were still just standing at the edge of an endless chasm.
Azazel narrowed his eyes. "Hmm? You seem tense. You already know who I am?"
"I wouldn't dare say that. I'm just… a bit sensitive to power."
"That's a good trait to have. Means you've got potential."
Without warning, a crushing pressure slammed down on Akira.
The sheer force of it bent his knees, and the air around him warped from the overwhelming magic power.
They weren't even fighting yet. This was just the casual presence of a being from another realm entirely.
In the anime, Azazel was portrayed as a laid-back, dependable guy—a teacher who cared for his students like a doting uncle.
But that was after the peace treaty between the Three Factions had been signed.
Right now? Akira was just an unknown human. He had no political backing. And he'd just wiped out three of Azazel's subordinates right in front of him.
It was easy to forget, but Azazel was a veteran of the Three Faction War—and he'd survived it.
The crimson gauntlet materialized on Akira's arm once again. With the power boost, the weight pressing down on him lessened—barely.
"Huh?" Azazel tilted his head. "That's… the Boosted Gear? So, you're the current Red Dragon Emperor?"
A flicker of interest lit up his lazy eyes.
If Azazel had been planning to kill Akira a moment ago, that intent quickly began to fade.
The current wielder of the White Dragon Emperor was, after all, his own adopted son. The boy was a bit rebellious—but Azazel cared deeply for him.
And he knew—deep down—the boy would be furious if his eternal rival was killed before they had the chance to fight.
Better not poke the dragon, as they say.
While Azazel remained lost in thought, Akira continued powering up.
"Ddraig, with this much energy... I should be able to reach Balance Breaker now, right?"
『You can, Partner. But you've never done it before. Are you sure you want to try it here and now?』
"Of course. We're facing the Governor of the Fallen Angels—a Maou-class being. If I don't go all out now… I'm dead."
『Then use me to your heart's content. Show him everything』
"Let's do this, Ddraig. Balance Breaker!"
Ddraig's voice roared like a dragon's cry, and Akira's magical power skyrocketed.
His energy surged outward, forming a crimson suit of armor over his entire body—sleek, sharp, and radiating power. Like a knight clad in dragon scales, Akira now stood tall, draped in the legacy of countless Red Dragon Emperors before him.
A pair of magnificent dragon wings spread wide from his back, glowing faintly with magical energy.
『Boosted Gear Scale Mail!』
Akira clenched his fist. This was his first time donning the true armor of the Red Dragon Emperor.
And across from him stood one of the greatest threats in the world—Azazel.
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