"Damn it! There were enough sacrifices for three angels?!"

They had calculated everything carefully. From the number of sacrifices they had made, they were certain the ritual would summon a single angel—nothing more. But they were wrong. Terribly wrong. The offerings were sufficient for three.

The ruins they had uncovered mentioned the required amount only vaguely, never specifying exact numbers. Still, it was never meant to be three. Because—

"Fuck! We can't fight three high 8-tier beings at once, even if we combine our forces!"

Each angel was, at the very least, a High 8-star existence. The ritual itself was capable of calling up to eight angels at its peak, but fewer could be summoned depending on the sacrifices offered—as this disastrous outcome clearly proved. Since this was their first attempt, they had deliberately chosen what they believed to be a safe, fixed amount, enough to summon a single angel and test its strength.

They had miscalculated.

Now there were three.

High above, wings began to unfurl, feathers spreading slowly as if stretching after a long slumber. The blinding golden radiance surrounding them dimmed little by little, revealing vague silhouettes within the fading light.

"Everyone, prepare yourselves!" someone shouted hoarsely. "And try to stay alive!"

The Emperor—the sole High 8-star being among humanity—was meant to face the angel alone. The others were only to intervene if his life was truly in danger. That had always been the plan.

But even the Emperor could not possibly handle three such beings at once.

That reality was etched clearly across his face. His jaw was clenched so tightly his teeth creaked, pupils narrowed to sharp slits, and a vein throbbed violently at his temple as his aura surged under the strain of absolute focus.

Below him, everyone began preparing. A plethora of elemental energies erupted at once—fire, lightning, ice, wind—filling the air until it grew heavy and oppressive, mana so dense it felt almost liquid against the skin.

The angelic forms were nearly revealed now, the light around them fading to little more than a glow.

Clap!

That was all the Kings heard before--

"Huh? Where—" someone blurted out, panic creeping into his voice as he suddenly found himself standing deep within a forest, surrounded by others who looked just as startled.

"There!" another shouted, pointing frantically.

All eyes turned in the same direction.

As king-tier beings, tens of kilometres were well within their naked vision. And there they saw it—the Emperor, standing utterly alone, facing the encroaching golden beings.

"Save our Emperor!" someone cried out. "He's sacrificing himself for us!"

Only then did they understand. The Emperor had teleported them far away, beyond the battlefield, to keep them alive.

But before anyone could even move a single kilometre—

Hummmmmm—BOOOOM!

A massive violet energy sphere formed in midair. When it detonated, the resulting shockwave slammed into them like a physical wall. Kings standing tens of kilometres away were hurled backward as trees were ripped from the earth and dust billowed skyward, blotting out the horizon.

And then—it began.

Explosions chained together without pause. Shockwaves overlapped. Ear-splitting detonations tore through the land as afterimages flooded the battlefield.

Across a span of dozens of kilometres, countless afterimages flickered into existence, overlapping so densely that it was impossible to focus on a single one. Every King's gaze darted frantically from place to place, trying desperately to locate the Emperor.

But each image vanished before they could grasp it, replaced by hundreds more.

"W-what… what is this…" someone whispered, aghast.

Yet one thing was clear in every afterimage—the Emperor was locked in battle.

In some, he was throwing punches that distorted space itself. In others, he was swinging at blurred figures or unleashing condensed blasts of violent energy.

"Look! He lost a hand!" someone shouted, terror thick in his voice as an afterimage showed the Emperor missing his right arm—

"I-it's back!" he cried again a moment later.

Another image appeared, his form whole once more, flesh regenerated seamlessly. Only his clothing was gone, torn away by the sheer violence of the clash.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOOOM!

At times, only raw explosions were visible—no figures, no forms—just devastating shockwaves that sent the watching Kings tumbling backward again and again, unable to advance even a single step.

"What the hell is he even fighting?!" one shouted over the chaos. "I can only see the wings!"

The enemies in the afterimages were little more than blurs of white and gold. Only massive angelic wings could be distinguished, slicing through the air like divine blades.

HUUUMMMMMMMM—BOOOOM!

Suddenly, four enormous spheres expanded across the battlefield—one violet and three golden—each forming at a different location. But instead of detonating immediately, the violet sphere hurtled violently toward one of the golden ones.

They collided.

The resulting explosion was far more devastating than before. The land beneath them was annihilated, reduced to lifeless ruin. Where forests once stood, only barren earth remained.

"Look!" one King shouted, pointing frantically. "One of the golden areas turned black!"

All eyes snapped toward the summoning formation. Despite the unimaginable destruction around it, the carved structure remained completely intact, as if forged from something indestructible. It continued to glow, the circular pathways once again active, light racing through them like particles in an accelerator.

There were eight football-sized regions within the formation. Five had already been dark.

Now, six.

Though in the center of the newly blackened region, a faint trace of golden light still lingered.

"Our Emperor killed one angel!" someone cheered, realization dawning as hope surged through their voices.

But the triumph was short-lived.

"L-look!" another shouted, horror creeping in. "The Emperor—he's badly injured in the new images!"

The price of killing an angel was terrifyingly steep. By directing the violet blast to a single target, the other two golden attacks had struck the Emperor head-on.

In the blurred afterimages, his body was drenched in red from head to toe. The damage only worsened as more images appeared. Chunks of flesh were torn away, his body seemingly being chipped apart piece by piece.

And then—every new image showed the same thing.

One arm was gone.

"Let's help him!" someone yelled, desperation overriding reason as he rushed toward the battlefield.

He didn't even make it two kilometres.

Another violet explosion erupted, and he was hurled backward nearly five kilometres, crashing through trees as the shockwave flattened everything in its path. This time, nearly an entire region spanning tens of kilometres was reduced to barren wasteland.

"Fuck! We can't get close!" someone cursed, slamming a fist into the ground.

"Shit…" another muttered bitterly. "And here I thought being a King was enough. I can barely destroy five kilometres at full output—and our Emperor is evaporating ten… no—twenty kilometres in a single attack."

The speaker was a fire-attribute King, and his words carried weight. Fire was among the most violent energies known; if he could destroy five kilometres, others would manage even less.

Yet the old man—who had stood beside the Emperor before the ritual—wasn't watching the battlefield.

His gaze was fixed on the sky.

His voice trembled as he whispered,

"Don't let the protector descend…"

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