"Consort Dragon's Great Maw!"
Several fire dragons shot forth, raging across a battlefield already flattened by shells.
Stella guided them into the fray against the Abrahams, making the already devastated terrain even more chaotic.
Even in such turmoil, Charles's attention stayed fixed on his true target.
The sound of bones snapping rang out as he broke an Abraham's neck; his flames burned clean through the man's windpipe.
They were, after all, artificially created clones—unlike Nassim or the Puppet King, they couldn't keep fighting after having their vitals pulverized.
Still, with the Abrahams' numbers, this was no small nuisance.
If each clone truly possessed the full might of a Demon, the White Eagle would have nothing to fear.
Dropping the corpse, Charles had roughly gauged the range of Abraham's future-sight.
No matter how much of a cheat an ability seemed, its user had limits—and limits meant weaknesses.
If his guess was right, Abraham could only see a short span ahead, perhaps a few seconds, and only moments of mortal danger came through clearly.
That made them easy to deal with—strike once, then follow up again before the next vision could form.
For Charles, that was trivial. Between him and Stella, over a dozen Abrahams had been cut down, leaving only a handful still fighting.
He walked over to the "Grand Professor" stand-in, now mangled beyond recognition.
He was gambling that the Grand Professor placed great importance on capturing Stella.
If so, then even if he sent only a kagemusha here, the real body had to be somewhere nearby, watching events unfold.
Which meant the Professor's biggest mistake was sending a stand-in at all—created from his own genetic material, the kagemusha would share his exact aura and magical signature.
Charles memorized it as a sensory marker.
The Abrahams seemed to notice his intent and moved in at once.
Stella stepped up beside him, swinging the Consort Dragon Sin Sword to raise a wall of fire that blocked every attack.
With the Professor's aura firmly in mind, Charles said, "I'll leave this to you. I need to find the man pulling the strings."
Her smile was bright and confident. "No problem. Leave it to me!"
Charles grinned back and exhaled a plume of white vapor.
"Mana Domain."
He rarely used this skill anymore.
Against weaker foes, it was pointless; against stronger ones, its boost wasn't enough.
But now, this "chicken rib" ability could prove invaluable.
At his current magical level, unleashing it without holding back would cover most of Japan.
Within that range, he could pinpoint any target—but if the Professor was farther away, he'd be beyond reach.
Luck was with him—out at sea, just off Japan's coast, he felt the Professor's magical signature.
In fact, several identical ones clustered together. The Professor had brought backup kagemusha.
Yet among them, one was notably stronger—undoubtedly the real one.
Locking on, Charles spread flaming wings and streaked skyward like a meteor.
Far out at sea, the main force of Japan's Pacific Fleet had entered home waters. Only a single carrier hung back, away from the fighting.
In the face of a losing battle and with even commander Douglas taking the field, such inaction could only mean one thing—someone special was aboard.
That someone was Karl Aelens, the "Grand Professor," and this was his flagship.
Though he held the title of White Eagle Federal Reserve Board Chairman, he had his own ambitions and no true loyalty to the nation. Their relationship was one of mutual convenience.
The Professor's real body was identical to his stand-ins—his bloated frame made his chair groan under the weight.
Before him, a monitor displayed Charles's ascent in crisp detail. In the dim room, his expression twisted grotesquely.
Even within the White Eagle, many called him a mad scientist.
He took no offense; on the contrary, "scientist" was his proudest identity.
His ambition was to achieve miracles reserved for gods—to create life, the ultimate life.
But cloning the Tyrant had taught him a truth: technology could create living bodies, but not souls.
So he turned his mind to the origin of life—to the process of gestation.
He had taken the Tyrant's Noble Arm, the Blood-Devouring Sword, and from it extracted the Tyrant's soul.
What he lacked now was a mother, a vessel to birth the strongest lifeform.
And not just anyone could fill that role—only one with supreme qualities could bear such an existence.
Thus his interest in Stella, the girl with the "strongest" magic. No one else was more qualified to be the Holy Mother.
He hadn't expected that, even with "White Whale" drawing away Kurono Shinguuji, Japan's last significant fighter, and sending a full PSYON squad, he would still fail to capture her.
And the problem lay in this unknown man.
The White Eagle's intelligence held detailed files on nearly every Blazer worth noting. The Professor himself knew all important targets well.
Yet he was certain no such man existed in his records.
Since arriving in this world, Charles had kept his power largely out of sight. The only notable appearance was his fight with the Puppet King—unfortunately, at that time, the Professor had been busy securing his casus belli from Tsukikage Bakuya and never reviewed the report.
Now, caught off guard, he was only thinking of the failed capture—not realizing Charles was already coming for him.
So when the carrier's radar picked up a high-speed inbound object, the Professor didn't yet suspect it was him.
Only when Charles burned through over 100 millimeters of special alloy armor and crashed into the carrier's interior did the Professor see his face on the monitors.
"F**k!" he spat, instantly ordering all PSYON forces still aboard into action.
"You lot—stop the intruder!"
A group of Abrahams obeyed, teleporting to intercept.
Charles halted, looking around at the Abrahams surrounding him.
"Looks like I've found the right place."
He'd worried that the carrier's magical signature belonged to some special kagemusha—but the Professor's panicked reaction confirmed the real body was here.
"That makes things simple."
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