A blade came down before the Omega's Circle, cleaving the land in two, spanning outward to the seas and sky. One swipe, and it would have enough force to cut the world in two. Such a slash even reached to the very stars, as one such nearby was cut away, a supernova detonating and expanding from beyond, a flash of white in replacement of the bright blue the people were used to. Wyvios would cut and hack at the entire Circle, attempting to decimate the rebellious group that dared to end his rule, unaware such destruction was more than enough to warrant an all-out defense by the Circle itself. Bombarded by bones and fire from Orochi's skeletal Dragon, a quick hurricane of sanguine and thunder by Stoken. Calibren would even be able to use their own force, as a mass of energy came out from its castle, one in a similar shape to Xibal, charging ahead and carrying the attacks from opposite sides to crash and collide into the newly formed 'Angel.'
The people far below could only dodge and pray they weren't struck. Zazel would soar upwards across the skies, watching as the many arms descended like rainfall to catch him. As he flew around, weaving each palm with as much as he could, watching as his prismatic form shattered and reformed whenever he demands some proper space, his pristine self easily able to recover even after damage. He'd attempt to damage himself by colliding into one of those arms, amazed as, once hit, it merely broke apart into shards and slashed through the arm's veins and tissue like nothing, both learning that this is his proper body, and that the only thing left intact and stabilized is his flaming head. "So this is how Harvard did it. Alright. Just need to keep my head safe and I can keep doing this!" He'd say to himself, as another palm came down and confirmed his suspicions. The strike made was intensified far more than anything else. Even more than how he was struck by the monsoon of blessed salt. He'd have his shards come forward and slash into the arm he was struck by, letting his head be freed and take a moment to properly breathe after such damage. Such eyeless voids began to bleed golden ichor, extremely sensitive even as they dribbled down as such wounds.
As the Circle attacked back, Wyvios was quick on retorting, using the blades to parry and even catch and send the attacks towards the crowd as projectiles, ensuring they were caught in the crossfire alongside him. As he was damaged by all sides, he recognized that such nerves weren't connecting as it should, delayed just enough until he began to feel the effects as the skin regenerated. To the Modern Morningstar, he was confused. He'd let his soul connect to the contract and allowed it to speak, to see what he couldn't. To his surprise, he was successful in taking Mawkin and changing him during the 'Sun's rays shining on all sides. His very body was bound within the clay, almost melted into it, his face implanted on every crevice that acted as his new 'muscle.' To test such abilities, he'd allow the attacks rained from the opposite kingdoms onto the rebellion, festering them in such flesh, allowing them to come down just as much. Despite their efforts in dodging, Koina, Stolas, and anyone else within the vicinity would feel the shared effects, damaged simultaneously in fire and poison, with such misfortune amplifying their effects to nearly burn off their arms and chest, forcing the Assassin to slash around and create a barrier of frost to stave off such disasters. "NO FAIR! HOW COME HE GETS THREE MAGIC STYLES AS WELL!?" Stolas shouted, amazed that he managed to get away with a Tri-Magic style of his own.
Straw Magic.
Clay Magic.
Sun Magic.
Such styles were demonstrated in tandem as soon as he allowed his crown to lower, creating another 'Sun' across the corners, a beam of light piercing through the frozen barrier, melting it down, as he'd start letting his body contort and spin like a top, letting such hands from the clay rise and form a tornado around him, assuming it would prevent Zazel from advancing any further. He was starting to be more proud of such a homunculi state his body has became, more so as he flexed his fingers and felt back such feeling once lost. He'd watch on as he held full control, as the busted hole was caved in and left no survivors. Even if he was made their public enemy, he finally did it. He reached a state where he can truly take the world, to let them bask in his proper radiance, and kneel before the king that stands atop everything. He felt divine, almost as if he was a God.
BONK!!!!
"THAT WAS FOR MY DADDY!!!!!" An immediate shout from below, trailed up by the storms of fire and blood, a heavy slam at one of the stilts, sapping away such energy and scattering it to the wildlife. In such irony, it was forced to kneel. It looked on, the mouths quickly boring eyes, noticing the child riding across Fenrir and leaving no mercy, swinging at every chance she could get. Applin was not willing to stop, even at the face of an Angel. Enraged and appalled, he'd draw upon his third sword and aimed another cleave, digging straight through the earth itself, exposing such a core, skewering through the planet and leaving behind a crater in its wake, burning at the world itself. What he didn't expect, however, was for Applin to take upon such a challenge, watching the blade fall and be struck down directly was expected, yet she raised her hammer and pushed as much as she could to stop it from going further. Deeper and deeper she went, dug through the land's wound, as Fenrir was forced to come down with her.
Even with the severe lack of strength and such struggle, she'd scream as she kept pushing, already seeing damages in her arms as she faced the Archangel. Her heart was beating fast, her head slipping, her breath running in short bursts. Her thoughts were clouded, as she saw a small light from above, a creature of pure white. She could care less about being saved, so in an effort to ensure she keeps her loved ones alive, she'd move Fenrir out of the way, having him be scooped up by the figure as she faced the enemy alone.