When a Filipino got Isekai'd with a Twist!
"Only I Can Summon Those!"
Chapter 4: "When Gods Watch, and Mortals Bleed"
High above the mortal plane, in a celestial hall stitched together with threads of divine aether, the gods gathered—not to celebrate, but to watch in grim silence.
A grand mirror hovered in the center, showing the scorched battlefields of the Human Alliance. Cities burned like fireflies in a storm. Soldiers clashed against monsters whose names hadn't existed a week ago. Hope was a candle guttering in the wind.
Antares, the God of War, stood at the edge of the mirror's light. His obsidian armor was dulled—not from battle, but from guilt.
> "It's because of Mina," he muttered. "She turned her back on humanity. I should've seen it coming. Should've been there before it was too late. She was just a child…"
Lycana, the Time Goddess, turned to him. Her voice was calm but carried a weight that could silence storms.
> "Don't take that burden alone, Antares. None of us foresaw Xandros reaching her first. He's always known how to twist the wounded."
Dern Riona, Goddess of Harvest, broke the moment with a rare edge in her tone.
> "Enough regrets. Humanity won't last much longer. The capital is breaking. We either act now, or watch them fall."
From the shadows, Cique, the God of Knowledge, let out a weary sigh.
> "If he were here, there would be no war. No desperate speeches. No near-extinction."
The others turned to him.
> "Who?" Riona asked, though she already knew.
Cique simply pointed into the mirror. Beneath the jungle canopy of enemy territory lay a colossal machine, buried in vines. Its armor was scarred, but the shape was unmistakable. Beneath it slept a storm.
> "The boy who defied a Demon King. The one who commanded the divine."
His lips curled into a smirk.
"Kieth."
---
On the battlefield…
The air was thick with smoke and blood. In the eye of the storm, two men faced each other, unmoving, their presence forcing nearby soldiers to instinctively back away.
Josh, the Sword King, stood with his blade ready. Before him was Josef Mengele—the "Butcher of Flesh," once human, now something far worse. Surgical blades floated around him in a grotesque halo.
> "Still breathing, Sword King?" Josef grinned. "Your body's a masterpiece. Mind if I carve it open?"
Josh's sword tilted upward.
> "Try it. But you won't like what you find."
A shockwave cracked the ground as they vanished from sight, colliding mid-air. Sparks lit the battlefield like fleeting stars. Josh ducked under a spinning bone saw, slashed upward, grazing Josef's ribs. In return, Josef's barbed wire whip cut into Josh's shoulder—but the Sword King didn't flinch.
His voice came sharp over the comms.
> "Kalisto. Fall back. Reinforce Serena, Lyra, and Elara. If the Demon Kings breach the throne line, the capital's done."
> "But—"
> "Go. That's an order."
Kalisto bolted toward the frontlines, leaving Josh and Josef to resume their dance of steel and madness.
---
Kalisto's POV
He tore through smoke and falling debris, finding Serena, Princess Lyra, and Sir Elara holding the line against a demon king wielding a wagon-sized flail. Lyra's holy arrows detonated on impact while Serena's spear blazed with divine wrath.
Kalisto slid in beside them, blades drawn.
> "Sword King says we hold this line. Together."
Lyra nodded.
> "Then we push back."
But the ground cracked violently. Chains erupted from below, coiling through the air like hunting serpents. The temperature dropped, and a suffocating pressure pressed down on them.
A figure emerged—tall, draped in an obsidian-silk robe, suspended by living chains. Horns curled from his pale skull, and his eyes were endless pits.
Mephistopheles. The Demon King of Incarceration.
> "You've crawled far," he said, voice echoing like it came from the walls of a dungeon. "But this is where hope ends."
The battlefield seemed to hold its breath—until he struck. Chains lashed toward Lyra, Serena intercepting them with a flurry of spear strikes. Lyra's barrier cracked under the force.
Then Mephistopheles froze. Her gaze had fallen to Lyra's neck—to a pendant.
A broken half-moon.
Her hand trembled.
---
Flashback
A warm afternoon. A little half-demon girl sat on Kieth's lap, playing with his necklace.
> "Hey, Dad? Where'd you get this? It's pretty."
Kieth smiled, that easy grin that made her feel safe.
> "Got it from someone I cherish the most."
> "Who?"
> "Princess Lyra."
---
Present
Mephistopheles staggered back, eyes wide. The battlefield's noise faded to nothing in her ears.
> "…Perhaps… your name is… Princess Lyra?"
Lyra's breath caught. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Mephistopheles' voice wavered.
> "Is that… your name?"
A tear slid down her cheek before she even knew it was there.
Josh vs. Josef – Continuation
Steel screamed as Josh's blade locked against Josef's bone scalpel. Sparks spat between their faces, each straining for the killing blow.
Josef's grin was manic, teeth bloodstained.
> "Your guard's solid, Sword King… but your body's screaming. I can hear it."
Josh shoved him back, the impact kicking up a cloud of dust.
> "Then listen closely."
He surged forward, his sword cutting a diagonal arc aimed for Josef's throat. Josef slipped under it, the movement unnervingly graceful, and countered with a flick of his scalpel that nearly took Josh's eye.
Josh pivoted—low, tight—and kicked Josef's shin hard enough to crack bone. Josef stumbled but used the momentum to roll backward, snapping his fingers.
The halo of surgical tools around him exploded into motion—scalpels, hooks, saws—whipping through the air like a storm of knives.
Josh dropped into a defensive stance, blade blurring as he deflected strike after strike. The clang of steel-on-steel was constant, the shockwaves rattling the teeth of soldiers fifty paces away.
Josef darted in with a scalpel aimed for Josh's armpit—one of the rare unarmored spots. Josh twisted, catching Josef's wrist, and yanked him forward, driving an elbow into his jaw. The snap of bone echoed.
Josef staggered, spitting blood.
> "Yes… hurt me more. Show me why they call you Sword King."
Josh's eyes narrowed.
> "Gladly."
He vanished. One heartbeat he was there, the next he was behind Josef, sword already mid-swing. Josef barely managed to raise a bone saw to block—too late. The blow smashed through the weapon, cleaving it in two, and left a deep cut across Josef's back.
Josef howled, spinning with inhuman speed, lashing out with a length of barbed wire. It coiled around Josh's forearm, the spikes biting deep. Blood ran down his hand—but Josh didn't flinch.
Instead, he yanked hard, pulling Josef toward him, and drove his knee into the butcher's ribs. The sickening crunch told him at least two were broken.
Josef laughed through the pain, coughing blood.
> "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."
Josh didn't waste breath. He stepped in again, sword raised for a decisive strike—
—but the ground trembled.
Both men's instincts screamed at once. They leapt apart as a wave of raw demonic energy ripped through the battlefield from the direction Kalisto had gone.
Chains.
Josh's eyes flicked toward the source, seeing the black silhouette of Mephistopheles in the distance, towering above the smoke. His grip tightened.
Josef followed his gaze and smirked.
> "Ah… looks like the real show just started. But first—"
He lunged.
Josh met him head-on. The next exchange was faster, heavier—each blow now laced with urgency. Neither could afford to lose, not with the tide of war threatening to crush the front.
Steel clashed with bone again, the force of each strike tearing scars into the earth. Sparks lit their faces in flashes—two killers locked in a duel neither wanted to end, but both knew might be their last.
The duel had turned vicious—both men bleeding, both refusing to yield. The ground beneath them was chewed into craters from each impact, and the air stank of iron and smoke.
Josh pressed forward, his blade a silver blur. Each strike was meant to finish it. Josef's laughter only grew more fevered, his parries wild but calculated.
> "You really are magnificent," Josef rasped, blood streaming from the gash across his back. "But you're still thinking too small."
Josh didn't answer—just aimed for the throat.
Josef sidestepped, boots grinding into the earth, and jabbed two bloodstained fingers into the dirt. Black veins of energy spread outward in a spiderweb, pulsing with life.
The ground ruptured.
From the fissure, a colossal shadow clawed its way up—a beast unlike anything Josh had seen. Its body was stitched together from the corpses of fallen monsters and men, its four arms ending in jagged cleavers. Where a head should've been, a fleshy mass pulsed with dozens of mismatched eyes, each rolling independently.
It exhaled, the stench of rot and burning metal making even hardened soldiers gag.
> "Meet my assistant," Josef said with mock politeness. "I call him… Operative Zero."
The monster let out a guttural roar that shook the battlefield.
Josh's eyes narrowed. "You're hiding behind pets now?"
Josef grinned. "Not hiding—conducting." He tapped his temple, and the creature moved instantly, its cleavers slamming into the ground where Josh had stood a moment before.
Josh rolled clear, but the impact sent shards of stone slicing through his coat. He barely had time to recover before Josef was on him again, attacking in sync with the beast.
One cleaver came down. Josh blocked with his sword, but Josef's scalpel was already slashing from the side. Josh twisted, taking a shallow cut to the ribs, then kicked Josef back and vaulted over the monster's arm.
The creature turned unnaturally fast, cleavers sweeping in a wide arc. Josh ducked under the first, slid along the second, and used the momentum to leap at Josef—
—but Josef raised his arm, and one of the beast's eyes exploded with dark light, firing a beam that Josh barely blocked in time. The shockwave hurled him back, skidding through the dirt.
Josef laughed, blood dripping from his lips.
> "Let's see that Sword King title save you now."
Josh rose slowly, his blade steady despite the blood dripping from his side. His expression hardened.
> "You want to see it? Fine."
His sword began to hum—not with magic, but with pure killing intent.
The hum from Josh's blade deepened into a low, resonating growl. Dust trembled at his feet. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Josef cocked his head, grinning.
> "Oh? Finally taking me seriously?"
Josh stepped forward—not fast, not slow—just inevitable.
> "No… I'm ending this."
The monster lunged first, four cleavers descending like a guillotine. Josh didn't dodge. He moved through. His blade traced a tight upward arc, parrying the first cleaver, spinning to bat aside the second, then twisting his body to deflect the third with the flat of his blade. The fourth he didn't bother blocking—he slid under it, his sword already darting for Josef's throat.
Josef ducked, scalpels flashing, forcing Josh to disengage. But Josh didn't retreat. He closed in, pressing Josef with a relentless flurry of cuts—each blow precise enough to kill, every one aimed to force Josef off balance.
The beast roared, swinging from behind. Josh sidestepped just enough for the cleaver to pass him by, and in that same breath, he grabbed the flat of his own blade, braced it with his hand, and used it like a spear to drive into the monster's wrist.
Tendons tore. One cleaver dropped.
Josh ripped the blade free and spun, slashing through the ropes of stitched flesh holding the monster's elbow. The arm fell away in a spray of black ichor.
Josef's smirk faltered.
> "You—"
Josh didn't let him finish. He lunged, twisting mid-strike to parry a scalpel with the flat of his sword before booting Josef in the chest, sending him stumbling toward the crippled monster.
The beast caught Josef instinctively, but Josh was already moving—both hands on the hilt now, his stance lowering.
The hum in his blade sharpened to a piercing note. Soldiers on the nearby ridges swore they felt their hearts skip.
> "Sword King Art—Third Form."
He vanished.
The next heartbeat was nothing but silver light—cuts appearing across the monster's body faster than eyes could follow. Flesh split, chains of sinew snapped, black blood spraying in a mist. The beast shrieked, staggering back.
Josh reappeared behind it, sword sheathed.
A pause.
The creature collapsed, its stitched frame unravelling into a heap of steaming gore.
Josef froze, his halo of surgical blades flickering as though unsure to move.
> "...Impressive. But you bled for that, didn't you?"
Josh glanced at the cut across his ribs—deep, still leaking. His breathing was heavier now, but his gaze didn't waver.
> "You talk too much."
Josef snarled, stepping forward—when the ground shook again. This time, it wasn't his doing.
Both turned toward the horizon. Chains, massive and endless, shot into the sky. Black energy rolled across the battlefield like a storm tide.
Josh's jaw tightened. "Mephistopheles…"
Josef's grin returned, wide and sharp.
> "Looks like our time's almost up, Sword King. Shall we finish this before the world ends?"
Josh raised his sword. "Gladly."
The two clashed again, the sound of their fight now mingling with the distant roar of the Demon King.
To be continued....