MIGHT AS WELL BE OP-Chapter 466: Death Incarnate

Anthony's gaze lingered on the vacant space where the Hyperion demon's body had once been, now utterly erased from existence.

In their battle, they had traversed kilometers from his previous position, far from where his teammates remained.

With a single thought, his form vanished, reappearing beside Dale, who cradled the unconscious Reynold in his arms, desperately calling out to nearby healers for aid.

Dale's head snapped to the side the moment he sensed Anthony's presence.

"Captain, heal Reynold, he's losing too much blood"

He urged, his voice tight with urgency as he gently lowered Reynold onto the ground.

Anthony gave a curt nod, already intent on mending the Phoenix's wounds even before the vampire's request.

His eyes then drifted toward Seraphim and Kingsley, who remained on the frontlines, holding back the relentless tide of demons and abominations.

'Those spirits have truly enhanced her beauty and allure'

Anthony mused silently as his eyes lingered on Seraphim.

His gaze then shifted to Reynold, who lay on the ground, still conscious but gravely wounded.

A radiant surge of light magic flared from Anthony's outstretched palm, cascading into Reynold's battered form.

Almost instantly, sinew and muscle began to twist and realign, bones materialized and snapped neatly into place with a satisfying precision.

Within seconds, Reynold's arms were fully restored, and the remaining wounds across his body sealed shut with astonishing speed, as though time itself had hastened its healing.

The light element flowed seamlessly from Reynold, enveloping Dale in a gentle yet invigorating glow. In an instant, his stamina was fully replenished.

"Thank you"

Dale murmured, exhaling a breath of relief.

Reynold, still lying on the ground, slowly opened his eyes.

His mind raced to piece together fragments of the present, reality settling in just before unconsciousness claimed him once more.

Glancing down, he saw both his hands fully restored, whole and unmarred.

As his vision caught Anthony standing silently above him, he needed no explanation.

The answer was clear: Anthony had healed him.

"Thanks"

He said quietly, rising to his feet.

Without another word, flames erupted, swirling fiercely around his form as the temperature surged.

Then, in a flash of blinding light, he vanished.

Dale followed immediately, both of them rejoining the relentless battle alongside Seraphim and Kingsley, who still held the line against the tide of demons and abominations.

Anthony stood silently, his katana already sheathed at his side.

"Shall we begin, then?"

He murmured to himself.

He had promised the Hyperion demon to slay many of his race, a promise born from the bounty they placed upon his head, and he intended to keep it.

With a mere thought, his body lifted effortlessly into the sky. From this vantage, his eyes swept over the ravaged battlefield below, where destruction reigned supreme.

Corpses lay heaped in grotesque piles, blood seeped into the earth like dark rivers, severed limbs were strewn carelessly across the terrain, and the remnants of organs and entrails stained the ground in grim testimony to the carnage.

Watching with a cold but focused gaze, Anthony's lips parted slightly.

[Lightning Magic: Mana Zone: Final Judgement]

An overwhelming surge of mana erupted from deep within his core, radiating outward to fill every corner of his mana zone with relentless force.

Since his reincarnation, Anthony had never fully unleashed the vast reservoir of mana contained within him.

As one blessed with the highest bloodline in existence and elevated state of a High Human, a being of superior existence, his mana reserves were anything but ordinary or limited.

Everything, demons, abominations, elves, and vampires alike, came to an abrupt halt.

Every being present had sensed the staggering surge of mana flooding the air.

Just as other races can instinctively detect chaos energy without possessing any affinity for it, demons could sense mana even if it was foreign to them.

All eyes turned skyward, where Anthony stood calmly, his hair billowing with the rhythm of the wind.

Then it came.

CRACKLE.

The clouds thickened ominously as raw energy coalesced, lightning streaking across the heavens in jagged arcs.

Each bolt collided and entwined with others, forging into colossal, seething torrents of destructive power.

Kilometers of terrain were instantly bathed in a blinding, pure white radiance that seared the eyes.

Demons and abominations alike shuddered, a cold dread crawling down their spines.

Many hastily drew forth their most precious life saving artifacts, but would such defenses hold any weight against an assault unleashed by Anthony?

With a thunderous boom, millions of thunderbolts cascaded from the heavens like celestial judgment unleashed.

CRACKLE. BOOM. ZZZZRRRR.

SIZZLE. BRRBB.

White hot lightning rained down relentlessly, overwhelming every creature with an affinity for chaos energy.

It spared no one, faltered at nothing, and showed no mercy.

It incinerated all life in its path.

The storm roared on, crackling with a maddening, undeniable fury.

Even the portals within his mana zone were not spared. His lightning surged through them, vaporizing every demon and abomination caught within their thresholds.

The acrid stench of burnt flesh assaulted the nostrils of the survivors, their eyes wide with horror as Anthony unleashed unrelenting devastation upon the world.

Millions of demons and abominations were annihilated in a single, cataclysmic strike.

Sinkholes and fissures ripped open the earth as if summoned by the hand of a god. Trees were reduced to ash, and entire landmasses were erased beneath the overwhelming onslaught of raw power.

Eyes remained fixed on Anthony, watching him as if he were a god, as the thunderous impact of his assault gradually subsided.

His piercing blue eyes shifted downward, narrowing as his gaze swept toward those who remained beyond the reach of his devastating strike.

With measured calm, Anthony drew his katana once more, lightning coiling around the blade like a living serpent.

Then, like a bolt torn from the very heart of a storm, he surged forward, an explosion of speed and fury.

His katana flashed without hesitation, without mercy.

Wherever he passed, heads were sent flying skyward, blood burst like fountains, and flesh was torn asunder.

Screams echoed, raw and ragged, as desperate foes raised barriers and shields, but none held under the crushing weight of Anthony's blade.

He was a streak of silver light, a comet cleaving through the battlefield.

His blade sang a song of finality, swift and accurate, never pausing, never missing.

He became a blur of motion, unreadable, untouchable, unstoppable.

In that moment, he was death incarnate.

His kill count surged beyond reckoning, his strikes absolute, his judgment divine.

There was no hesitation in his movements, only the silent, terrifying certainty of one who had extinguished lives beyond number.