’What is this creature?!’

Rey’s mind raced through possibilities as he stared at the impossibly dark entity standing before Seraphine’s half-kneeling form.

’Is this the Emperor of Death?’ he wondered, his enhanced perception analyzing the creature’s mystical signature. ’The Tier 3 entity that rules this corrupted nexus?’

But something didn’t align.

The Church intelligence had suggested the Emperor resided in the cathedral at the dungeon’s center—deep within the fifth boundary layer, protected by millions of undead and environmental hazards that made approach effectively impossible without massive coordinated assault.

This was only the second boundary layer.

It was far too early for confrontation with the ultimate threat.

The entity seemed to sense his thoughts—or perhaps it simply enjoyed explaining itself to doomed prey. When it spoke again, its voice carried mockery that transcended mere condescension.

"You wonder what I am," it stated, the words making Rey’s bones ache despite his enhanced resistance. "Your limited intelligence glimpses truth but cannot fully comprehend."

It gestured with appendage that might have been an arm, the movement leaving trails of darkness that persisted in violation of normal physics.

"I am Pride—First General of the Emperor of Death, Herald of Annihilation, and Architect of Despair."

The revelation struck Rey like a physical blow. This was not the Emperor itself, but one of its Generals.

Which meant—

"Yes," Pride continued as though reading his thoughts. "There are six of us. Pride, Wrath, Sloth, Envy, Greed, Lust, and Gluttony. Seven servants of the Emperor, each positioned to protect the approaches to our master’s sanctum."

The entity’s form shifted, darkness coalescing into shape vaguely resembling noble robes in corruption.

"The other five are even now culling the unworthy across this dungeon’s expanse. Wrath annihilates the eastern forces. Sloth suffocates the western approach. Envy corrupts the northern units. Greed consumes the southern advance. Lust seduces the foolish. Gluttony devours the desperate."

"We are the Emperor’s will made manifest—instruments through which the unworthy are separated from those who might, perhaps, prove entertaining."

Seraphine forced herself more upright despite catastrophic injuries, her voice carrying defiance even as blood ran from her mouth.

"You... won’t succeed," she gasped. "The Angels... Archangels... they’ll destroy you all. Your Emperor. This entire corrupted nightmare."

Pride regarded her with what might have been amusement—difficult to determine given its lack of recognizable features.

"Will they? How... optimistic."

The entity raised one appendage almost lazily.

"But you’ll never know the outcome, Paladin. Your worthiness has been evaluated."

He paused for a moment.

Then, he grinned.

"And found... lacking."

"Spirit Art, Purification Technique, Sequence #2: Divine Sanctification!" Seraphine screamed, committing everything remaining to desperate final assault.

Holy flames erupted toward Pride with force that would have incinerated lesser Hollow Creatures instantly—technique amplified by divine blessing, decades of mastery, and absolute determination that refused to accept inevitable defeat.

Pride didn’t dodge.

Didn’t defend.

He imply allowed the flames to wash over its form.

The holy fire died upon contact with its darkness, not extinguished but consumed—eaten by wrongness that operated under principles specifically designed to devour divine power.

"Unworthy," Pride stated with finality.

It gestured once.

Seraphine exploded.

Not metaphorically—her body literally detonated from the inside as Pride’s technique activated.

Blood, bone, organs, equipment—all of it erupting outward in a sphere of destruction that painted the surrounding area in gore that immediately began dissolving into ambient corruption.

Rey watched with horror he couldn’t entirely suppress.

The Paladin who’d led them competently, who’d survived impossible odds through skill and determination, who’d been powerful enough to approach Angel-tier capabilities—

She was eliminated like an insect.

So casually.

Without Pride even using what appeared to be serious effort.

’The gap in power is absolute,’ Rey realized with cold dread. ’Seraphine was exceptional by mortal standards. And she lasted perhaps three seconds against an opponent operating at completely different scales.’

Pride turned its attention to the few remaining survivors—the unconscious, the dying, and Rey who’d managed to force himself into a sitting position.

"Now then..." It stated conversationally. "Let us thin the herd appropriately. Those unworthy of advancing further should accept their annihilation with grace."

Its mystical pressure surged exponentially, darkness expanding outward in waves that made the ambient corruption seem benign by comparison.

Rey’s instincts screamed warning even before his enhanced perception fully registered the threat.

This wasn’t a targeted attack.

It was an area of annihilation operating at scales that would erase everything within thousands of meters.

’Move!’ his survival instincts commanded.

But there was nowhere to move.

The technique expanded in all directions simultaneously, creating a sphere of destruction that offered no escape vectors.

Which meant defense was his only option.

Rey’s hand moved to the concealed Divine-grade armor beneath his Church-provided equipment, mystical energy flooding through it as he activated defensive capabilities he’d carefully avoided revealing throughout the expedition.

Simultaneously, he drew on the Prince of Darkness within his soul—not manifesting it physically, that would be too obvious—but accessing its power through their bond to reinforce his protection.

"Chaos Art, Hollow Technique, Sequence #3: False Eternity!"

The technique activated in microseconds, creating a field around Rey that existed in a state of suspended wrongness—not truly alive, not properly dead, but occupying conceptual space between existence and nonexistence where normal attacks couldn’t fully register.

Pride’s annihilation wave struck.

Everything died.

The few surviving Searchers—obliterated instantly, their bodies dissolving into corruption without time for screams.

The corrupted buildings surrounding the battlefield—reduced to fundamental particles, architecture erased at conceptual levels.

The very ground beneath Rey’s feet—destroyed to a depth of several meters, leaving a crater of smooth nothingness where a devastated street had existed.

But Rey survived.

His Divine-grade armor absorbed the worst of the assault, its high-tier defensive capabilities specifically designed to resist exactly this kind of overwhelming attack.

The Hollow Technique’s False Eternity provided additional protection by placing Rey partially outside normal reality, making him difficult for the annihilation effect to fully target.

The combination was sufficient—barely—to preserve his life.

When the wave passed, Rey remained sitting in a small bubble of intact ground surrounded by absolute destruction extending in all directions. His armor had visible cracks from the strain, blood ran from his nose and ears from mystical backlash, but he was alive.

And Pride was staring directly at him.

The entity tilted its head in a gesture that suggested genuine interest rather than mere casual observation.

"Fascinating," it stated, its voice carrying curiosity that made Rey’s enhanced perception register alarm signals. "One survived. Not through divine blessing, not through Angel intervention, but through..."

Pride moved closer, darkness coiling around Rey’s position as the entity examined him with attention that suggested it perceived far more than physical appearance.

"Interesting. You possess... familiar resonance. Something in your nature that echoes..."

It paused, form shifting as though trying to reconcile conflicting observations.

"The armor... where did you find it? The technique you employed operates under Chaos Art principles specifically—Hollow Technique. Where did you learn it?"

At this point, Pride’s eyes turned bloodshot.

It showed a mix of curiosity and desperation, as well as hints of madness.

Rey’s mind raced desperately.

’It recognized the technique. Identified it as Chaos Art despite my attempt at concealment. This entity possesses knowledge and perception that exceed what normal Hollow Creatures should have—’

Pride leaned closer, its darkness pressing against Rey’s weakened defenses.

"What are you, little Nephilim? You smell of..."

WHOOSH!!!

Then divine light erupted across the battlefield with intensity that made Pride’s darkness recoil instinctively.

Three Angels descended simultaneously, their combined mystical pressure operating at scales that actually forced the entity backward several meters.

"GENERAL PRIDE!" one Angel roared, his voice carrying harmonics that made reality itself vibrate. "BY THE AUTHORITY OF THE FIVE ANCIENTS, YOU ARE MARKED FOR PURIFICATION!"

"Spirit Art, Purification Technique, Sequence #1: Celestial Sanctification!"

"Order Art, Dominion Technique, Sequence #1: Reality Override!"

"Soul Art, Supremacy Technique, Sequence #1: Consciousness Annihilation!"

Three Sequence #1 techniques launched simultaneously from three different Angels, their combined assault coordinated with precision that suggested extensive experience fighting together.

Pride’s form destabilized as the holy power struck—darkness fragmenting under assault operating at scales approaching what only Archangels typically wielded.

But it didn’t dissolve.

"Ah," the entity stated with satisfaction despite obvious damage. "Finally, worthy opponents. Let us determine who shall prove superior—"

The battle that erupted made everything Rey had witnessed previously seem insignificant by comparison.

Techniques operating at Sequence #1 clashed with Pride’s corruption, each exchange creating shockwaves that reduced the surrounding environment to progressively smaller particles.

The Angels fought with coordinated precision that demonstrated why the Church considered them humanity’s ultimate defenders, their Joint Arts combining multiple High Sequence techniques into synergistic effects that exceeded what any individual could achieve.

And Pride matched them.

Not easily—the entity was clearly struggling against three elite Angels operating in concert—but it held its ground, its Tier 3 power allowing it to engage multiple Angel-tier opponents simultaneously without being immediately overwhelmed.

Rey didn’t waste the opportunity.

While the combatants’ attention focused entirely on each other, while their techniques created chaos that made detection nearly impossible, he forced his injured body into motion.

’I need to escape!’

The strategic calculations were simple. Remaining here meant death—either as collateral damage from the ongoing battle or from Pride’s renewed attention once it noticed him again.

He had to leave...

... Now!!!

WHOOSH!

Rey activated movement techniques with complete disregard for maintaining his cover identity, channeling Ether through pathways that maximized speed over efficiency.

The devastated battlefield blurred as he fled, using every enhancement his Divine-grade armor provided, every technique his genuine capabilities allowed, every advantage his desperation could muster.

Behind him, the battle intensified.

Explosions that made the air itself scream. Light and darkness clashing in patterns that hurt to observe even peripherally. The sounds of reality fracturing under assault that exceeded what normal space could accommodate.

Rey ran.

Through twisted streets.

Around impossible architecture.

Past horrors that would have paralyzed him with fear under normal circumstances but now barely registered against his overwhelming focus on escape.

Minutes passed.

The sounds of battle faded to distant thunder.

The mystical pressure diminished to levels that were merely oppressive rather than immediately lethal.

Finally, Rey collapsed in an alcove formed by a collapsed building, his body unable to maintain the desperate flight any longer.

He lay there gasping, blood still running from his nose and ears.

His Divine-grade armor showed cracks that would require extensive repair, and his Ether reserves depleted dangerously close to critical levels.

But he was... alive!

Against impossible odds, surrounded by destruction that had annihilated everyone else in his unit, facing entity that possessed power only Archangels should wield—

He’d survived.

Rey forced himself into a sitting position despite his body’s protests, leaning against rubble that had once been someone’s home.

His mind replayed the encounter with cold analytical precision despite the trauma and exhaustion.

’Pride...’

One of six Generals serving the Emperor of Death. Tier 3 entity capable of fighting three Angels simultaneously.

That being possessed power that exceeded anything Rey could currently match even if he revealed his full capabilities.

’That’s the scale I’m competing against,’ Rey thought, his determination crystallizing through the fear and pain.

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, the physical pain grounding him against despair that threatened to overwhelm his strategic calculations.

’I won’t run like this again,’ Rey vowed with absolute conviction. ’This expedition—whatever happens, however dangerous it becomes—I will use it to grow stronger. Strong enough that next time I face something like Pride, I can fight rather than flee.’

He desired it... absolute strength!

’Strong enough that Angels aren’t categorically superior opponents but potential equals.’

’Strong enough that eventually, perhaps, I could stand against Archangels without immediately dying.’

The path forward was clear despite its difficulty. First, he needed to survive the remainder of this expedition.

’I refuse to remain weak while forces that matter operate beyond my reach!’

[A/N: Welcome to the new month! I hope you all enjoy what I have in store for you. The story is about to get even more exciting!]