The Knight
These are warriors who have activated their inner vital energy through a special breathing technique, which has allowed them to surpass mortal standards.
At this stage, they feel a strong blood flow in their body, causing their arteries to dilate.
This energy circulation reaches every part of their body, creating a warm current that gradually rises toward the lower abdon (the Dantian).
It’s in this area that vital energy concentrates, and where it can be cultivated.
Thrax had already reached this level back when he was kidnapped by the god Chiron, but this wasn’t the limit of a knight.
Currently, he had reached the level of "Grand Knight," which is the final form of a knight’s path in the world of magus.
Thrax’s vital energy was extrely dense and visible to anyone, and the inhuman training of the Night Lords Legion from the Warhamr 40k world had pushed him to this limit.
The Touki was forced to manifest in the war demigod’s body, but this wasn’t enough to summarize the monstrous strength held by this Astartes, nor his current potential.
If the "Grand Knight" is the end of a knight’s path, it’s not that of a warrior.
Why?
Because there exists another path, a forgotten trail, which was even used by Sanguinius’s avatar on Baal Secundus before the complete return of his consciousness in the DxD world.
The path of a "Branded Swordsman," which is also the very origin of the knight concept.
These warriors mark various runes on their bodies to absorb energy from their environnt. This allows them to passively increase their strength daily, and explosively during battles.
A "sage" mode straight out of a fantasy universe.
"W... We need to retreat!!"
Nathanael’s panicked voice brought his colleague back to reason faced with the imnse bloodlust emanating from Thrax.
Leoniel nodded, then imdiately began to escape.
But would Thrax be satisfied with such a simple victory?
No.
BAM.
Bolter shots echo across the island, as the Astartes hunts the two angels fleeing the battlefield.
The roar of his dorsal reactor and the war cries of his chainsword tear through the air, as Thrax finally manages to catch the shota angel Leoniel.
His fate? A horrible death.
Blood.
"Red is indeed necessary in this kind of situation..."
Fleeting words, which could give him a still slightly human aspect.
But Nathanael only sees a 3.50-ter armored warrior, contemplating a shota angel, gutted by a roaring chainsword, still embedded in the steaming entrails of his forr companion.
A vision straight out of a horror movie.
"No!!"
All attacks based on Holy Power didn’t reach their target.
The angels’ sacred light doesn’t touch the Astartes, not thanks to light-speed movents, but because of his ticulous analysis of their gestures.
This includes bodily and facial movents.
Everything is scrutinized by the Astartes’ superhuman senses and his combat interface, allowing him to waste the least effort possible, while maximizing his efficiency.
Seeing his useless attacks and his inability to create distance between himself and the scarlet giant, despair begins to invade Nathanael’s body.
The sunlight is gradually eclipsed by the shadow of the chainsword, still stained with blood and intestinal remains of his companion.
"F... Father... Is this also your will?"
The squinting angel sends a small prayer, but the final attack doesn’t reach him.
BAM.
A Holy Power beam is fired toward Thrax!
Fortunately for him, his armor’s interface signaled an abnormal energy accumulation above his position.
Thanks to his superhuman reflexes, he covered his chainsword with Touki and tried to block the incoming attack.
"So strong!"
Unconsciously, the young warrior’s heart, forged in darkness and blood, began beating faster, animated by wild and almost primitive excitent.
The presence behind the attack, whose power was crushing him toward the ground, had surpassed Chiron.
The old god was supposed to be Thrax’s objective... but he had just stumbled upon sothing more interesting.
After managing to deflect the energy that was pinning him to the surface, Thrax looked up toward the individual responsible in the middle of the blue sky.
The very one who had just excited his divine blood of Olympian origin.
"Beautiful... wait a minute! That’s a guy??"
(Image)
Michael had appeared on the battlefield, interposing himself between the Astartes and the surviving angel.
The Seraph-level angel... was beautiful.
Michael’s appearance was only matched by that of Thrax’s father figure — and even then, it depended on everyone’s tastes.
Of course, Thrax thought Sanguinius was more beautiful between the two n.
’This guy looks too much like a woman.’
If he hadn’t been wearing his helt, the young man would probably have spat on the ground in disgust.
It’s not that Thrax hates won, or that he practices Greek culture aid at ntoring an older man over a younger one... *Cough* gay.
But Michael’s appearance goes against everything the boy admires and respects.
Smooth skin, without scars or marks.
No trace of hands that had wielded a sword, or touched the dusty ground of a battlefield... or even that of agriculture.
Eyes bathed in perpetual sadness, gentle and lancholic, which seed to address him... no, all beings present.
A gaze, which he imdiately interpreted as that of the gods — those haughty entities who, from the heavens, dared to judge him from above.
His grandfather died because of them.
Michael embodied several things that Thrax instinctively execrated, and his battle thirst ignited because of the angel’s power.
He had beco a wall to overco.
A target.
"Lord Michael!"
Nathanael rushed toward his "savior," after noticing his survival against Thrax.
But Michael didn’t keep his gaze on him for long.
His slightly green eyes calmly observed the surroundings around him and Nathanael, and this seed to sadden him further.
Massacre.
The angels, whom he had charged with investigating this area, had been brutally killed by the man on the ground.
"Nathanael."
"Y-yes!"
Michael’s voice contained imnse sadness, but it remained gentle to the ears of all present.
"Return to Heaven to warn the others... I’ll have to stay here, because a sheep seems to be straying from the light."
Nathanael seed to hesitate for a mont, but observing Michael descending to the ground without worrying about him further pushed him to leave quickly.
His superior was confident facing this giant, so why should he doubt him?
’Yes, he can’t lose.’
Nathanael imdiately moved away from the battlefield, to find a safe place for teleportation to paradise.
"Hello, my boy..."
Despite Thrax’s horrible acts, the seraph didn’t let himself be carried away by an emotion like anger.
His body even kept a supernatural grace and his face maintained sad eyes and a calm expression.
Yet, he received no verbal response to the politeness shown to his interlocutor.
Just a Bolt shot.
"Oh there, you’re really aggressive."
Nonchalant words, but there was a small trace of annoyance in them, impossible to detect for ordinary mortals.
"Shut up and fight."
Just that little point-blank Bolt shot showed Thrax that his opponent was faster.
Michael didn’t even need to dodge, because he could neutralize the bullet fragnts thanks to a shield and his Holy Power lance took care of the remaining shards of the attack.
"... I see. There’s really no way to reason with you, is there?"
Another Bolt shot was the only response Thrax gave him.
The atmosphere beca heavy, as the vital energy constituting Thrax’s Touki emanated from him, while Michael’s Holy Power escaped from his body in a threatening manner despite his gentle face.
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