Kokabiel was honestly stumped and excited at the human before him.
He had fought many fighters in his life; be they human, devils, angels or even demigods, he would always end up fighting them to the death. There had been a few close calls before, but he was always able to snatch victory in the end. In his entire life, there had been at least five that could compete for the top spot.
Now he was having second thoughts as to whether this could take the top of the list as the best fight he ever had.
It was not the first time he fought a human, and it was not rare, though certainly not common, for him to fight a magician. But this magician was actually able to fight him in close combat and last so long against him. He had many unusual weapons that he instinctively guessed to be related to other mythologies and legends around the world. Furthermore, something about him seemed to connect with him, as though he too was weary of the stagnant flow of the world and wanted something to happen.
Yes, if he had to guess, this human was just born with skills of war but in a time of stagnant peace that grated him wrongly, and now he could use those skills with relish.
The smirk on his face went wider as they continued to exchange blows that occasionally slip past their defenses and leave small wounds on their bodies. Yes this was someone whom he could relate to greatly! Someone who understood the fragile peace of this world, and the unrelenting dullness of such a world, one who was forced to sit back and have his fangs dull away as he watched innocent sheep go about with their boring lives.
Now here he was, fighting a higher being. The magician was no doubt feeling the adrenaline pumping into his system, relishing the blood that flowed from his wounds as he dealt out blows that would incapacitate most people. And he was no doubt hoping that this fight could last as long as it could!
Kokabiel himself wanted that. He wanted to fight this person at his best, enjoy the euphoria that came from this fight, use every tactic and every bit of his power to win before crushing him completely. Only then would he be satisfied.
Only then could he prove to Heaven that he was better than Michael.
Only then could he prove to those weaklings that they were wrong to stop the war.
Only then could he help his Father.
Only then can he atone.
Kokabiel frowned inwardly at that random thought as he let off a blast to vanquish four of the doppelgangers and fought off the remaining one with his original. He was not sure why that happened, but he was starting to have odd thoughts coming into his head for a while and it was beginning to irritate him. It seemed that seeing the Excalibur Shards come together did something to him; he would need to rectify that quickly.
"Trace On."
Kokabiel snapped his head at the boy who raised the sword over and past his head, and could only gaped at the design that the sword had formed into. He did not know how to describe it, but if he had to try, he would say it was an apprentice smith's impression of a rock slab that was roughly chiseled into a huge sword with very coarse edges, and it was clearly meant for a giant than a regular human. It was like twice the height of the boy! What the heck was that boy thinking of creating that weapon out of Excalibur?!
"Trigger Off."
He blinked for a moment out of an instinctive need to block off the glare, and he found himself facing a creature that he could only describe as a giant with the bare likeliness of a human. It was at least three times taller than the boy in front of him with nothing but an armored kilt and metal bracers on its wrists and ankles. The body was covered with a skin that had a color of dark leaden grey and its muscles looked too dense to be achieved from normal training, not even through a reckless course of drugs and human experimentation could render that type of figure. This was furthered highlighted by the bony protrusions that emerged from its forearms and elbows and its face that was distorted by the thick veins that bulged from beneath the skin, giving it the appearance of being in constant rage.
But perhaps the thing that was stopping him from attacking the boy now was the manner the creature was looking at him with those eyes. It was as if the giant would love nothing more than to tear his limbs apart, smash his body to bits before crushing his head like a grape. And if that was unsettling enough, its eyes were an odd match, one eye showing a golden gleam while the other showed a crimson light.
What the hell was that giant?!
"Firing." The boy raised his head to reveal a black right eye and a glowing red left eye and what looked like steam coming out of his mouth as he growled out his words. "Nine Strikes Excalibur Works."
What happened next could only be described as a whirlwind of smashes and slashes; each one of those strikes hit a part of his body like a thousand cannonballs hitting him at once (he should know, he had that number hit him in the 13th century) and more to his annoyance, of all the places to be hit in, why did one of them had to be between his legs?!
It was a good thing he made love all those years ago, at least he had some descendants to prove he was a male.
With that out of the way, he barely had time to move his wings and spear in time to impede the giant sword aimed for his heart, stopping it enough to just barely pierce his chest. Using the momentum, he lifted his legs and kicked the boy aside, removing the sword and getting him back into the air. He panted heavily and coughed out some blood as he took stock of his situation.
Aside from the loss of his arm again, he was missing two of his wings, his left leg was sporting deep gashes and his right leg was barely hanging on by the bones and tendons. His upper torso was showing gaping holes and blood was practically streaming from the wounds inflicted by the human. He panted hard as he tried to regulate the amount of energy to heal his wounds, but it was slow going; even if he took another bite of the apple to get back the energy, all of it would be used to keep his body functioning, he could not afford to take another hit.
He turned to look at the human who was glaring up at him while lightly panting from the exertion of using that attack. His arms were slack by his sides with the now default form of the sword barely gripped properly, and his frame was clearly showing the early signs of fatigue. The wounds he had also inflicted on him were leaking blood at a rate similar to his, and Kokabiel did not need his Second Sight to know that the human was running low on his energy.
But Kokabiel ignored all of that and focused on the boy's eyes. Despite the blood flowing out of him and the pain that was undoubtedly accumulating on his body, his eyes held no hesitation, no weariness, only a bright flame that promised to keep burning until either one of them was taken out of this fight.
This was it. This was the moment where they would put their soul into their strongest and final attack. This was what would define them both.
And he intended to go all out on him!
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A/N : The Story Needs More Power Stones ;)
PS : if we can reach 400 Stones by the end of the week, I will throw you an extra chapter
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if you want to read ahead of the public release you can go to my p atreon :
p atreon.com/Aerle