A huge pillar of dark energy tore through the sky.
Shalba, who had been commanding the remaining forces, felt a sudden dread crawling up his spine. His gaze snapped toward the distance—miles away—where two figures floated in midair. Both radiated power and bore five pairs of devil wings, their very presence brimming with dangerous potential.
But what was that power to someone like him, a descendant of the true Beelzebub?
Insignificant.
Their appearance, though notable, didn't shift the tide of war. At least, not yet. Shalba felt a flicker of caution. There were two of them, after all. One was bald, with a sharp glint in his eyes… The other had messy green hair and striking, handsome features. Both were facing the direction of the earlier energy surge—clearly recognizing that a new Satan-class powerhouse had emerged.
"Fools," Shalba sneered, a crooked grin tugging at his lips as a swirling mass of demonic energy crackled into existence above his palm. His voice, laced with contempt, echoed across the skies. "Do they really think they can just peel their eyes off the battlefield like spectators?"
The energy pulsed violently—dense, unstable, lethal.
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the deadly blast forward.
"You don't get that kind of luxury with me as an opponent."
The massive orb of destruction tore through the air like a cannonball fired from the depths of the Underworld. Yet, before it could even graze them—both devils vanished, slipping through space with movements too fast for mortal eyes.
Too fast for most.
But not for Shalba.
His crimson eyes tracked them, locking on without hesitation. His instincts screamed to act, and he did.
Beelzebub was the first to close in—green hair flowing behind him, a glint of precision in his eyes. Shalba moved with fury, intercepting him mid-motion, his leg spinning into a wide arc—an expertly timed roundhouse kick meant to tear through his defense.
But Ajuka parried with a calm grace, the sound of their clash ringing out like steel against steel. Without pause, the two exchanged a volley of blistering strikes, fists colliding in bursts of energy that cracked the sky.
From the distance, Shalba could see movement.
Ajuka wasn't the only threat.
Falbium, the bald-headed devil with the air of a man perpetually moments from sleep, had begun his own assault. He muttered quietly, drawing ancient symbols into the air with his fingertips as magical energy coiled around him like a sleeping serpent.
Shalba's heart lurched.
His instincts flared with a violent warning: Move. Now.
Without hesitation, he dashed sideways, just in time to avoid a devastating burst of magic that exploded where he had once stood. The heat singed his skin as he came to a stop, his breath ragged in his throat.
But it wasn't over.
Behind him—presence.
The air shifted.
He spun, deploying his wings in an instant, banking hard to the left as he shot toward the new threat.
Falbium was already there—waiting with unnerving patience.
They collided in midair, fists slamming into each other with the sound of thunder, shockwaves rippling across the sky. The sheer force of their blows split clouds and bent the wind.
Again their fists met, again and again—relentless.
Until Falbium flipped backward mid-air, delivering a brutal kick under Shalba's chin that sent the devil flying. He tumbled through the sky, blood spattering into the wind before he finally managed to stabilize himself.
Floating unsteadily, Shalba wiped the blood from his lips, his narrowed eyes burning with frustration.
Falbium hovered in silence. The dark rings beneath his eyes betrayed exhaustion, yet the fire within them refused to die. His words came low and steady, not angry—but final.
"This is tiresome," he said. "Give up. We have you surrounded."
Ajuka sighed nearby, looking positively irritated. His eye twitched ever so slightly as he glanced over at Falbium.
'Sometimes I wonder how he manages to stay awake through an entire battle…'
Shalba didn't reply. His gaze flicked between the two, calculating.
Then—no warning—they launched forward again.
A blur of destruction and intent.
Shalba's brow furrowed, lips curling into a snarl. 'Troublesome… these two are more dangerous than expected. I was certain of my superiority. Certain of my bloodline's strength…'
A seed of doubt planted itself in his chest.
'Where did these insects gain the power to go toe-to-toe with pure-blooded devils?'
There was no time to reflect.
No time to think.
BOOM!
The battlefield trembled.
A deafening explosion split the earth open as fire and smoke erupted in all directions. Flames surged, spiraling into the air like the breath of a dragon. Soldiers—his soldiers—were consumed in an instant. Their screams were swallowed by the roar of destruction.
The air stank of charred flesh and sulfur.
The two commanders stared in disbelief, their expressions frozen before they smiled.
The enemy ranks were losing men.
Fast.
Their lines had collapsed before they even realized it. That one second of distraction… that single, fatal lapse in awareness—
It had cost them everything.
Broken bones.
Shattered formations.
Burning corpses.
And now—perhaps even the war itself.
[A Few Minutes Prior]
[Hisashi's Clone – POV]
After transforming into a random soldier, I surged forward, sword clenched tightly in my hand. I knew one thing for certain: if I got injured, the entire plan would collapse. So I didn't take risks—I used a technique to literally become an arm. An extension. A hidden piece.
Circulating Chakra through my pathways, I blended it with Qi to forge Yang Chakra. Then, with practiced precision, I performed the Clone Jutsu—or more accurately, the Shadow Clone Jutsu.
Bossman had discovered something strange about that jutsu. It wasn't just an illusion. Not really. At best, it was a weak genjutsu. The truth? It relied heavily on intricate Chakra control—far more than most realized. You had to mold Chakra into a shape, then grant it form and presence. The true challenge wasn't the technique.
It was the visualization.
You had to meditate. You had to see the clone—not just imagine it, but perceive it as real. Detailed. Tangible. Living.
But once you added hand signs into the mix? It became easier. They helped you maintain the form. Anchor the illusion. Hold it steady.
Now—what happened if you added Yang Chakra?
Then you got something else entirely.
You got a real, physical clone.
And that? That changed everything.
The moment I perfected it, thousands of clones burst into existence with a single release. They swept across the battlefield like a swarm of shadows—relentless, terrifying, and overwhelming. Each one was ready to fight. To kill. To die.
Some were wounded. Some destroyed. But that didn't matter. The smoke from each vanishing clone rose into the sky, cloaking the battlefield in a fog of war.
And the best part?
We could always make more.
There was no real loss. Every single clone funneled its experience back to the original. Every fight. Every tactic. Every mistake. Every kill.
Every death.
It all flowed back to the true Hisashi.
And then—I felt it.
That monstrous, suffocating aura that swept across the field like a crashing wave.
I recognized it instantly.
My own, of course.
The original.
Something shifted. A storm gathering in the air. The moment he began releasing that power, I knew without a doubt: our time was up. Across the battlefield, the clones began to vanish, one after another.
But this wasn't careless. It wasn't random.
It was planned.
Serafall had engraved seals into each of our bodies—contingencies in case something went wrong. Triggers, waiting for the right signal.
Explosive seals.
With the Clone Jutsu as a base, and Serafall's teachings as the key, Bossman had learned the art of Fūinjutsu. Magic circles had helped a lot—filling in the gaps. Acting like ancient, advanced scripts. Without that knowledge, he might never have understood the craft well enough.
But through his clones, he rebuilt what he could recall.
The last thing I felt was steel sliding into my stomach— The sneer of the enemy who thought he'd won.
I looked up at him.
And smiled.
Mocking.
Knowing.
And then—
Boom.
His face—twisted in confusion and disbelief—was the last thing I saw.
---
'Our mission was simple.'
'Blend in. Infiltrate. Embed themselves deep behind enemy lines.
And then…
Detonate.
We used everything—Transformation Jutsu. Genjutsu. Deception. Ruthless tactics.
They became timebombs.
Walking traps.
Ticking deaths.
And when their mission was fulfilled—'
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The battlefield ignited.
The tides shifted.
And the war was never the same again.