The universe is a beautiful beach where we are merely grains of sand, a shore where life took shape. No one fully grasps the beauty it holds, and far above it all lies something infinitely greater.
For a moment, we step away from the main narrative—leaving the events surrounding DANTE behind—and travel to a place far away. As we depart, the planet where DANTE resides—"Hell"—shrinks in the distance. Further out, we spot other planets resembling DANTE's "Hell," though they differ in shape.
Moving beyond this dimension, we continue to pull back. Countless spheres resembling marbles scatter across the expanse—these are whole dimensions. Further still, the multiverse manifests: an infinite array of spheres nested within other spheres, representing disparate dimensions. Atop the entirety of creation sits the "Primordial Pantheon," more commonly known as "Heaven"—an immense, overwhelming sphere crowning the cosmos.
We venture into its domain for a brief moment, passing over vast meadows overflowing with flowers and majestic mountain ranges. Moving deeper, a soaring city comes into sight, adorned with golden gates and magnificent structures reminiscent of an unimaginable future. At its heart stands a towering white castle. Within a grand chamber of this radiant structure, a high-level council is underway. Five imposing figures with pairs of wings extending from their backs sit gathered, clad in gleaming armor—save for one who wears a dark robe, bearing black hair and piercing silver eyes. It is the Archangel Azrael. The Archangels had assembled.
AZRAEL: Michael, this is getting out of hand. The multiverse is in total chaos, and the underworlds are no different.
MICHAEL: Yes, I fear things are turning exceptionally dangerous, and the Father demands answers. What is your assessment, Raphael?
RAPHAEL: It's the same thing I told Gabriel: this must be reported immediately.
GABRIEL: Hey! Don't drag me into this! Did you know Azrael isn't even doing his job? He hired four idiots to collect souls across all realms. How are four individuals supposed to manage the entire multiverse? And to top it off, he let the "Angelic Whistle" get stolen! Say something, Uriel—you know I'm right.
URIEL: Is that true, Azrael? How did someone manage to make off with the Angelic Whistle?
AZRAEL: Yes... it was one of my subordinates. His name is Mors, but he's a good guy. Something tells me a major event is unfolding wherever he is right now.
GABRIEL: "A good guy"? Have you even looked at what's happening across the multiverse?!
MICHAEL: Calm down, Gabriel. You know that at this scale, none of us can manage our duties alone anymore. That is precisely why Azrael brought on assistants—the Deaths—to aid him, given that the multiverse is expanding at an alarming rate.
GABRIEL: Fine, but look at the mess it's caused! Everything is upside down. Righteous souls are ending up in Hell where they don't belong, and on rare occasions, wicked souls slip into Heaven. Peter is exhausted from casting them out.
URIEL: You won't like hearing this, but I believe I've pinpointed the root cause. It appears the Fallen One is involved in this.
Everyone present reacts with shock at URIEL's declaration.
AZRAEL: What do you mean?
RAPHAEL: Yes, what are you implying, Uriel?
URIEL: I conducted an investigation and discovered a immense accumulation of power gathering in "Hell 1." I dispatched a squad of angels to inspect the area, and they reported that someone is actively manipulating power within "Hell 1." Countless souls are being funneled there, and we all know who possesses the raw authority to pull off something of that scale.
MICHAEL: Uriel... are you certain of this?
URIEL: Absolutely. My angels aren't incompetent like Azrael's lackeys.
AZRAEL: Hey now, that's crossing a line.
GABRIEL: Shut it, Azrael! You are the weakest among us, and your negligence landed us in this mess to begin with. If your foolish minion decides to blow that whistle, one of us will have to descend to wherever he is—and I pray it isn't me.
URIEL: Regardless, moving forward... Raphael, you need to monitor the multiverses closely to prevent further expansion. That falls under your domain. Father has ceased creating humans with "free will," which has slowed down the spread somewhat, but I'm unsure of what further action to take at the moment. Michael... as a former Seraphim, inform Father of these developments so we can formulate a strategy.
MICHAEL: Rest assured, if the Fallen One is behind this, I will strike him down once more. And... Gabriel, I politely ask that you cease treating Azrael as an inferior. The fact that death does not affect us does not mean we are immune to being erased. Show your brother proper respect.
GABRIEL: But—
In a fraction of a second, the walls begin to tremble. A staggering divine aura erupts from MICHAEL, swirling like dense, scorching steam. MICHAEL's eyes ignite with radiant white flames; the massive table before them cracks down the center as an oppressive heat washes over the room, causing everyone present to break into a sweat.
URIEL: MICHAEL!
AZRAEL: MICHAEL!
RAPHAEL: MICHAEL!
The tension eases as MICHAEL calms down, leaving a visibly shaken GABRIEL.
URIEL: Brother, there is no need to shake the entire hall with your aura. Gabriel understood the message... right, Gabriel?
GABRIEL: (sweating and trembling) Yes... forgive me, Azrael. I'm sorry.
AZRAEL: No harm done, hehehe.
In front of the archangels, a floating screen manifests, and a ray of light beams out from the monitor toward MICHAEL, introducing itself as a "Seraphim."
SERAPHIM: Michaeell... (sighs). The rest of you, leave. This concerns only Michael.
The remaining archangels rise and begin exiting the chamber. As the doors slide shut, MICHAEL can be heard receiving a stern reprimand for his excessive display of aura while bowing his head in silence.
Now, we swiftly return to the main events, rewinding a few minutes since this battle occurs simultaneously with QUETZALCOATL's clash—we find ourselves with ISAMU vs. "SUPAY of Gluttony."
The atmosphere is extremely tense as "SUPAY of Gluttony" prepares his assault.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: Umm, mortal... what can you possibly hope to achieve with all those wounds you carry? You look like one of my mummies, hehehe.
ISAMU: Mind your own business and fight.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: Don't be arrogant. Let me tell you something: if I manage to devour you, you will be erased from existence itself, hehehe!
ISAMU: You truly believe you can defeat me, huh?
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: Arrogant human, you'll see!
"SUPAY of Gluttony" lunges forward, attempting to impale ISAMU with his oversized claws, but the samurai easily dodges. Bit by bit, "SUPAY of Gluttony" ramps up his speed, leaving ISAMU struggling to react. Leaping backward to create space, Isamu fires a "flying slash," but the blade of wind vanishes into thin air right before hitting "SUPAY of Gluttony." Stunned, Isamu retreats even further.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: What's the matter, mortal? You can't handle me, hahaha!
ISAMU: You ate my attack, didn't you?
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: Sharp eyes, reader! Hahaha! Any magic or skill directed at me gets absorbed straight into my body!
ISAMU: Hmm. So, in short, only physical attacks work on you.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: Easier said than done, hahaha! Try it if you dare!
The battle rages on as SUPAY of Gluttony leaps high into the air, unleashing red flying slashes from his claws—as if phantom talons were tearing through the air toward ISAMU. He dodges frantically. "SUPAY of Gluttony" repeats the assault while ISAMU barely avoids the blows, steadily losing his speed. Seizing this opening, "SUPAY of Gluttony" drives his claws into the side of Isamu's abdomen, but ISAMU counters with a quick slash to force him back.
Something strange is happening: as the duel progresses, "SUPAY of Gluttony" is gradually getting plumper—a detail ISAMU notices immediately before delivering a sharp kick to the monster's jaw, sending him skidding back.
ISAMU: What are you up to? Why are you swelling up? And why are you slowing down?
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: Hahaha! Yeah, it's true, I gained a bit of weight! That's because I'm eating your energy and your aura! But it's weird... no matter how much I consume, my hunger aura doesn't seem to affect you. Don't you feel starved?
ISAMU: Hmph. You know, during the first Mongol invasion, we practically lost the war, but thanks to the typhoons, victory was ours. And in the second invasion where I fell, another typhoon saved us. At least, that's what they told me, since I didn't live to see the end. But something caught my attention among my countrymen in that village... They told me we won through teamwork and nature...
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: What on earth are you blabbering about?!
Suddenly, an overwhelming, crushing aura takes over the arena. "SUPAY of Gluttony" begins sweating and swallowing hard in sheer terror.
ISAMU: You see, it irks me that they never acknowledged the individual sacrifices of those of us who died in that terrible place—especially my squad of samurai... Back at the port I defended until my final breath, I was known by a specific nickname... Do you want to know what it was?
"SUPAY of Gluttony" nods nervously, his mind racing.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: (in his mind) This guy isn't affected at all?! My power should have left him completely drained and weak from all the energy I stole!
ISAMU: Fine, I'll tell you. They called me: The Sword-Wielding Demon.
As ISAMU finishes speaking those words, "SUPAY of Gluttony" recoils in terror, dropping into a quadrupedal stance. His bloated body rapidly gaunts down as crackling arcs of lightning burst from his frame, gearing up to hurl himself at ISAMU. Meanwhile, the samurai radiates a sinister aura as the bandages unravel from his face and hands. Bit by bit, ISAMU's face comes into full view—almost entirely healed, bearing only a small burn mark along his jawline, while the rest of his features remain striking: smooth, youthfully handsome skin, accompanied by heterochromatic eyes—one pale gray, the other a deep crimson red.
"SUPAY of Gluttony" lunges forward at blinding speed toward ISAMU, who stands primed with his katana, initiating a high-speed clash. Massive flying slashes are unleashed by "SUPAY of Gluttony," yet this time ISAMU parries every single blow with effortless precision. In a flash, ISAMU lands a flurry of severe slashes across "SUPAY of Gluttony," steadily forcing the heavily wounded demon backward.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: How can a mere mortal possess such power?! This shouldn't be possible... and that red eye, where did you get it?!
ISAMU: I acquired this a long time ago. While I was still among the living, I sold my soul to a demon, but when I died, no one came to collect it; I simply awoke here. This eye grants me the ability to see two seconds into the future, allowing me to foresee your every move.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: Damn it, that's cheating! DIE!
"SUPAY of Gluttony" unleashes a wild barrage of lightning in all directions. ISAMU dodges swiftly, but a stray bolt grazes him. Cackling hysterically under the belief that he can finish him off, "SUPAY of Gluttony" charges in, just as ISAMU sheathes his katana and closes his eyes.
SUPAY OF GLUTTONY: What, giving up already?! Hahahaha, now you'll see!
"SUPAY of Gluttony" sprints at top speed, but right as he closes the final inches, he blinks—and ISAMU is gone. Looking frantically around, the monster realizes ISAMU is standing directly behind him. As he turns to resume the assault, he catches sight of ISAMU clicking his blade fully into its scabbard. The moment the sword locks into place, a massive diagonal slash rends across the demon's entire body, bisecting him in two. Before his upper torso slides off, the demon stammers out a final question about what just happened.
ISAMU: I call it the "Celestial Cut," a technique I perfected a short while ago. (Sighs) I doubt you can even hear me anymore, seeing as you're already dead.
The victor of this clash is ISAMU, who collapses onto the floor, completely drained, as the technique taxes an immense amount of stamina.
ISAMU: (in his mind) If I hadn't been so accustomed to enduring starvation during my living days, that hunger aura would have caught me off guard. Regardless... I won.
The wall in front of ISAMU crumbles. After getting to his feet, he cautiously approaches the opening as a massive surge of energy pours from the breach. Peering through, he finds MALEKIN on the ground, minus his handkerchief, watching as "SUPAY of Sloth" floats in the air, enveloped in a radiant, overwhelming aura; its three heads are fully awake, their gazes fixed on MALEKIN.
ISAMU rushes over to MALEKIN and helps him up. MALEKIN looks back in surprise at ISAMU without his bandages, quickly regaining his footing as both samurai and warrior turn to face "SUPAY of Sloth," who is busily gathering energy.
What will happen? Why is Laziness so powerful? Will our friends be able to defeat Laziness? And what about Rex? Do the angels have a plan in mind? Will they keep scolding Michael? We will find out soon.