The battlefield was a gruesome tableau of chaos and destruction. The once serene riverside was now scarred by craters and scorched earth, littered with the fallen bodies of angels. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, smoke, and the metallic tang of blood.
Jormungandr moved like a whirlwind through the ranks of the remaining angels. His small yellow form belied the ferocity of his attacks. Flames erupted from his wings as he soared above, raining down fire and lightning upon his foes. With a flick of his tail, arcs of electricity leaped forth, striking angels and sending them crashing to the ground, their armor sizzling and sparking.
On the ground, the Royal Guards fought with relentless vigor. Mirena stood atop a rocky outcrop, her hands weaving intricate patterns as she summoned metallic lightning tornadoes that tore through the angelic formations. The swirling maelstroms of metal and electricity shredded wings and armor alike, leaving devastation in their wake.
Frank and Roman fought side by side, a seamless blend of might and strategy. Frank hurled explosive magma spheres that detonated amidst clusters of angels, engulfing them in searing heat. Roman unleashed volleys of shadow-cloaked arrows, each finding its mark with deadly precision. The angels scarcely had time to react before they were struck down, their cries lost in the cacophony of battle.
Clasius and Amara were a force to be reckoned with on the front lines. Clasius wielded his massive bastard sword with astounding ease, each swing cleaving through armor and flesh. His blade moved like a blur, leaving energy trails that crackled in the air. Amara darted around him, a whirlwind of lethal grace. Her twin daggers flashed as she struck vital points, felling angels who dared to come too close.
Not far from them, Freya faced off against two High Champion angels. One wielded a gleaming sword that shimmered with ethereal light, while the other brandished a heavy hammer and shield, the shield showing an indentation from when Freya had sent him flying away.
Freya’s eyes were steely, her focus unbreakable. She deflected a sweeping slash from the sword-wielding angel with her shield, the clang of metal resonating. Pivoting smoothly, she brought her mace down toward the hammer-bearing angel, who raised his shield just in time. The impact sent a shockwave rippling outward, and the ground beneath them cracked.
The sword-wielding angel pressed forward, his blade dancing with radiant energy as he unleashed a flurry of strikes. Freya met each attack with calculated precision, her shield and mace moving in perfect harmony. She began to push them back, her strength and skill surpassing theirs with each passing moment.
"Is this all you have?" Freya taunted, her voice cutting through the din of battle. She was not taunting out of arrogance, but as an experienced warrior, she used her words to lure the angels into making a hasty move, and it seemed to work.
Enraged, the angel with the sword charged, overextending himself. Seizing the opportunity, Freya sidestepped his lunge and swung her mace with devastating force. The weapon connected squarely with his helmet, the impact shattering it and sending fragments flying. The angel’s head was crushed under the blow, his body collapsing lifelessly to the ground.
As the Origin Force flowed into Freya, a surge of power revitalized her. She turned her gaze to the remaining angel, her eyes burning with fierce killing intent. The angel faltered, a shiver running down his spine as fear gripped him.
"Your turn," Freya said coldly, advancing toward him.
Meanwhile, Ouroboros engaged in a brutal duel with the angel, who fought using a unique boxing style. The angel’s fists glowed with holy energy, and each punch generated shockwaves that could pulverize stone.
Ouroboros, in his demonic werewolf form, moved with uncanny agility. Dark energy coated his claws and limbs, runes glowing fiercely along his white fur. He dodged the angel’s rapid strikes, the air whistling as fists missed their mark by mere inches.
The angel unleashed a rapid combination of punches, aiming for Ouroboros’s vital points. Ouroboros weaved between the blows, his predatory instincts and the A.I. Chip’s guidance giving him the upper hand. He countered with a swift slash of his claws, forcing the angel to retreat.
Sensing an opening, Ouroboros feinted to the left. The angel took the bait, shifting his guard. In that instant, Ouroboros surged forward, his fists glowing with concentrated dark energy. He delivered a double punch directly into the angel’s chest.
The impact was catastrophic. The energy exploded inward, rupturing the High Champion angel’s internal organs. The angel staggered, his eyes wide with shock as paralysis set in.
Ouroboros didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, his jaws opening wide. The last thing the angel saw was the maw of the demonic werewolf descending upon him. With a swift motion, Ouroboros ripped the angel’s head from his body and swallowed it whole. Not stopping there, he tore into the chest cavity, extracting the heart and consuming it as well.
Consuming the brain and heart, Ouroboros felt a surge of energy course through him thanks to Greed’s Embrace, restoring his vitality. He turned, ready to assist his comrades, but paused. Freya had already incapacitated the last of the High Champion angels, and across the battlefield, Jormungandr and the Royal Guards had decimated the remaining Champions.
Only three angels remained, bound by chains of lightning conjured by Jormungandr. They struggled futilely against their bonds, their faces etched with despair and defiance.
A voice echoed across the battlefield. "Great work."
All eyes turned to see Vlad crossing the river, his presence commanding. He surveyed the scene—the fallen angels and the weary but triumphant faces of his allies.
The forces of the Xaos Kingdom were exhausted, and many were wounded, but all were alive. The enemy had been utterly defeated, marking an astounding success.
"Okay, gather the prisoners. Let’s begin the interrogations immediately," Vlad ordered.
Upon hearing his command, Freya grabbed the defeated High Champion angel and dragged him forward. Clasius, Roman, and Frank brought the three captive Champions, positioning them to face the aftermath of the battle—their fallen comrades strewn across the devastated landscape.