Rei Ao stood absolutely motionless.
Of course he had recognized Jibril's identity.
The Flügel whom everyone else feared were, in his eyes, no more than mayflies.
Jibril seemed not to notice him and simply kept walking toward Shuvi.
The instant her hand was about to touch Shuvi, he struck—swift as a hunting leopard—clamping down on Jibril's wrist with perfect precision.
Jibril's expression changed dramatically; she stared in disbelief at the human before her.
As a proud Flügel, she had never imagined a human would dare defy her!
She struggled with all her might, powerful energy surging through her body as she tried to break free.
Yet his grip felt like shackles of forged steel—utterly unyielding.
Only then did she truly take stock of Rei Ao.
Those mysterious iridescent eyes and the barely perceptible but overwhelming aura around him silently proclaimed his extraordinary nature.
Rei Ao's gaze was calm, even playful, as though he were merely enjoying an amusing performance.
He chuckled, voice low and oppressive. "You disturbed me—there must be a price."
Before the words had died away,
space suddenly twisted,
and the three figures vanished.
Riku and the villagers looked on in astonishment.
When Jibril could see clearly again, she found herself in a barren wasteland of broken rock.
The sky was an eerie dark red, as though soaked in blood, and the ground was laced with cracks like an enormous spider‑web.
A desolate ruin left in the wake of war.
Not a trace of life existed here; only a howling wind that whipped up stinging clouds of dust.
"I'll give you one chance to resist," Rei Ao said, arms folded, a mocking smile on his lips.
"Fail, and you'll accept your punishment quietly."
His voice echoed across the empty waste, brooking no dispute.
"Ha. Who do you think you are—just a lowly human!"
First time insulted by such a feeble race, Jibril laughed in seething fury.
Her wings flared wide.
A tidal wave of energy swept outward; sand and stone exploded into the air.
"Arrogant human—behold the true power of the Flügel!"
She flickered, reappearing behind Rei Ao in an instant.
A blade of light, cold and gleaming, formed in her hand and slashed toward his neck.
The strike carried her rage; even the surrounding space warped in its path.
Rei Ao neither dodged nor flinched. He raised a hand and closed his fingers gently—the light blade dissolved into nothing.
Jibril's pupils contracted; a chill ran through her, yet her warrior's instinct kept her from retreating.
She unleashed a barrage of attacks, dazzling magics pouring down like a storm:
searing fireballs, razor wind, lethal lightning…
With casual waves of his hands, each tremendous spell unraveled the moment it touched him, scattering into motes of starlight.
Every failed spell struck Jibril's spirit like a hammer, making her doubt what this "human" truly was.
"Impossible… how can this be…"
Breath ragged, she fell back, sweat beading on her brow, chest heaving.
Never had she faced such a formidable opponent—
not even in battles among the Flügel.
"You're not a human, are you? Then…?"
A terrifying thought crossed her mind; her eyes narrowed.
Yet the possibility did not daunt her; instead, wild battle lust blazed in her gaze.
"Old Deus, hm? My very existence is to—slay gods!"
Flügel: sixth in the hierarchy of the Sixteen Races, marked by halos above their heads and wings at their lower backs. The halo has many uses and forms.
They were created by Artosh, the War God who feeds on battle lust, hatred, malice, and blood.
He cared nothing for desire, emotion, authority, or wealth—only combat, especially against the strong.
He created the Flügel solely to birth one cataclysmic battle after another.
Thus the Flügel, like the Ex‑Machina, were forged as god‑slayers—
"blades to cut down gods,"
born to offer the One True God's throne to Artosh.
A glance from a Flügel can plant the illusion of death in a weaker mind, and their thirst for battle is insatiable.
So when they encounter a being they deem a god,
though Rei Ao was not Old Deus, Jibril, convinced he was, resolved to use her full power—Heavenly Smite!
The sky flared molten gold; within the clouds, a force fierce enough to tear space itself gathered.
Jibril's wings blazed like twin suns. Yet her face turned deathly pale from over‑exertion; blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
She screamed, summoning a colossal pillar of energy that crashed from the heavens.
Space warped and shrieked beneath its passage.
This was her all, the battle for her Flügel pride.
Rei Ao simply reached out and closed his hand.
Time—space—energy—everything froze.
The Heavenly Smite, potent enough to vaporize seas, shattered inch by inch in his grasp.
"H‑how is this p‑possible?!"
Jibril's eyes were wide with utter disbelief.
One of her strongest attacks, undone as if it were nothing!
Dizziness washed over her—she had exhausted her strength.
Rei Ao stepped forward and in a blink appeared behind her, drawing her into a tight embrace.
Before Jibril could react, his body was pressed against hers.
She struggled desperately, but an unseen shackle bound her magic—she could not resist.
Rei Ao's kiss was fiercely possessive, as though he meant to devour her whole.
The conflicting sensations stirred emotions in her she had never known.
"You've lost," he whispered, voice a seductive spell, his breath hot against her ear.
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