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- Ujjain, Central Provinces -
- August 10, 1936 -
The last echoes of phisto's laughter faded, but his smirk remained. The British soldiers stood frozen, their instincts screaming at them to run, while the bound revolutionaries stared at the unnatural scene before them, too terrified to react.
Aryan exhaled, his stance unshaken. He had seen enough.
"You should leave," Aryan said, his voice steady. "You're not getting a deal from ."
phisto tilted his head, the amusent in his eyes sharpening. "Oh? And if I don't?"
Aryan's expression didn't change. "Then let the innocents go unhard and walk away. Otherwise, I'll free them myself." His gaze hardened. "You may be powerful in your own realm, but here, outside of it, you're weak. And if you think I can't deal with you, you're mistaken."
That made phisto pause.
His red eyes glead, searching Aryan's face for any sign of uncertainty, but there was none. The confidence in Aryan's tone wasn't bluster. It was fact. And that fact intrigued him.
"Well, well," phisto mused. "It seems you know quite a bit about . More than you should." He took a slow step forward, the air rippling around him. "Now, that's interesting."
Aryan didn't move. His system was ready, MPs stored, abilities on standby. If phisto tried anything, he would regret it.
The devil's smirk widened. "Let's test your theory, shall we?"
Before the words had fully left his lips, the air in the square darkened. The shadows around them twisted unnaturally, rising like living tendrils, lunging for the nearest captives. A terrified gasp rang out as a woman was yanked off her feet, the darkness coiling around her throat like a noose.
Aryan moved instantly.
He raised his hand, channeling his energy absorption and redistribution, seizing the power flowing through the shadows. The tendrils recoiled as their essence was siphoned away, twisting violently before they shattered into nothingness. The woman fell, coughing but unhard.
phisto's expression flickered—just for a second.
"Oh?" he murmured.
Aryan didn't let him process it. He had already absorbed the residual energy, repurposing it into sothing far deadlier. With a flick of his fingers, the ground split open, molten fire bursting forth in a controlled eruption, forcing phisto back. At the sa ti, Aryan willed the wind to gather, shaping a razor-sharp cyclone that surged towards the devil.
phisto raised a hand lazily. Dark energy pulsed, swallowing the flas, but the wind tore through the fabric of his coat, forcing him to sidestep. His smirk returned, sharper than before.
"Oh, you really are sothing special."
He lifted his own hand, and the very air twisted as dark magic surged forward. Aryan saw the attack forming—a concentrated wave of eldritch energy, raw and unfiltered. Instead of dodging, he absorbed it.
The mont the energy made contact, Aryan felt it—a deep, ancient corruption trying to burrow into his very being. But he had faced worse. His body adapted, his power reshaped it. The dark energy bent to his will, coiling around him before dispersing harmlessly.
phisto's smirk finally faded.
"Fascinating," the devil murmured, eyes narrowing. "You didn't just block it. You took it. Altered it."
Aryan didn't respond. Instead, he raised his hand, his own dark magic flaring to life. Shadows surged at his command, laced with the very corruption phisto had tried to use against him—only now, it was Aryan's weapon.
He lashed out.
A surge of black fire and pure, condensed darkness erupted forward, striking phisto head-on. The devil staggered, the attack forcing him back several feet, his crimson coat singed. For the first ti, he looked genuinely surprised.
Then, slowly, he grinned.
"Oh, Maheshvara," he purred. "You are full of surprises."
Aryan stood firm, watching as phisto rolled his shoulders, his aura shifting ever so slightly. The devil was getting serious.
Good.
Because so was he.
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phisto's grin remained, but the amusent in his eyes had shifted into sothing sharper. Aryan had forced him to adjust his expectations. He had co here thinking this would be a simple ga—a bit of manipulation, maybe a little destruction—but now, he realized the truth. He had underestimated Maheshvara.
That wouldn't happen again.
The air around phisto cracked. His human-like form contorted, shifting into sothing far more terrifying. His flesh darkened, his crimson coat rging with his skin as his body expanded. Massive horns curled from his skull, jagged like obsidian. His eyes burned like twin stars in a void of absolute darkness. Clawed hands flexed, brimming with raw hellfire. The sky above darkened unnaturally, the very fabric of reality bending under his presence.
Then, he moved.
The world shattered.
phisto surged forward at a speed that defied human comprehension—light itself struggled to keep up. The sheer force of his movent obliterated the stone beneath him, leaving a vacuum in his wake.
But Aryan was ready.
He had already begun channeling his stored energy into his eyes, processing everything in slow motion. His body drank in the sunlight, infusing itself with pure light energy, enhancing every cell, every muscle, every nerve. And as phisto struck, Aryan moved—matching him.
Their clash sent out a shockwave so powerful that buildings on the outskirts of the town trembled, glass shattering instantly. The very air groaned as the two forces t.
Aryan twisted mid-air, feeling the imnse kinetic force of their collision. Instead of resisting it, he did what he did best—he absorbed it.
Every ounce of impact energy from phisto's devastating charge funneled into Aryan's body. He redirected it. Not just by returning it as it is, but amplifying it too.
And then, he released it.
The explosion that followed was nothing short of catastrophic. A colossal force blasted phisto clear out of Ujjain, launching him miles away in the blink of an eye. The ground beneath their battlefield cracked and crumbled from the sheer power of the attack.
Aryan didn't waste a mont. He flew after him.
His body shimred with energy as he tore through the sky, accelerating past the sound barrier in an instant. His mind raced—he had to keep this fight away from innocent lives. As he neared phisto's trajectory, he sensed it—an empty wasteland beyond the town's borders. That would do.
phisto crashed into the earth, a massive crater forming around him. Dust and rock exploded outward, leaving a smoking impact zone. But the devil was far from done.
Before the debris could even settle, phisto rose from the wreckage. His monstrous form barely showed any damage, but his expression was different now. The smug amusent had faded.
Now, he was angry.
"Clever," phisto admitted, rolling his shoulders. His voice was deeper, more guttural. "But let's see how long you can keep this up."
Then, he unleashed hell.
The sky turned black with fire. Thousands of flaming spears materialized in an instant, raining down upon Aryan like a storm from the depths of phisto's domain. Each one pulsed with infernal energy, capable of searing through reality itself.
Aryan didn't flinch.
He raised his hand, absorbing the flas into his body, feeling their chaotic power surging through him. But instead of simply redirecting it—he transford.
His entire body Ignited.
His skin shifted, becoming liquid fla, his form adapting to the elent itself. Fire could not burn him if he was fire. The spears harmlessly phased through him, their power now his to command.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent them all back—but not as re projectiles.
He reshaped them.
The spears rged into a single, massive flaming dragon, roaring toward phisto with devastating force. The very air trembled as the beast twisted reality itself, its jaws snapping forward.
phisto countered instantly. A massive wave of dark energy erupted from his palm, colliding with the fire dragon in an explosion of clashing forces. The resulting detonation carved a canyon into the land, the shockwave rippling outward for miles.
But Aryan wasn't done.
While phisto focused on the blast, Aryan had already moved. He absorbed the remaining fire and mixed it with kinetic energy, amplifying his speed even further. He teleported mid-movent, appearing behind phisto in a blink.
Then, he attacked.
With earth-shattering force, he slamd his fist—now crackling with Power Cosmic—directly into phisto's back. The sheer impact sent the devil flying again, but this ti, Aryan followed.
He didn't just rely on brute force. He adapted.
He began testing new techniques, inspired by the stories of his past life.
He shaped raw energy into a blade, carving through phisto's defenses like a plasma sword.
He manipulated the winds, forming razor-sharp currents that struck like thousands of invisible daggers.
He absorbed the surrounding rock and tal, rging it into his own body for enhanced durability.
He mixed hellfire with his own dark magic, corrupting phisto's own power and turning it against him.
Every attack was faster, stronger, more refined. And phisto knew it.
The devil snarled, his body reforming after each devastating blow. But Aryan could see it now—phisto wasn't as invincible as made himself out before others. He was relying on his demonic regeneration to keep up.
Aryan narrowed his eyes. That ant he could corner him even if he was of higher Tier in power level than him.
phisto had started this as a ga. But now, for the first ti in who knows how long—he was fighting for real. And he still wasn't winning.
Aryan exhaled, feeling the Power Cosmic coursing through him. Shakti had chosen him as her anchor. That ant he wasn't just tapping into his own abilities anymore. He had access to sothing greater.
phisto growled, his hellfire aura surging.
"This is getting even more interesting. Perhaps I should be a bit more serious," the devil admitted, flas coiling around him like living serpents.
Aryan's lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn't playing phisto's ga.
He raised his hand—and for the first ti in this battle, he didn't absorb. He didn't redirect. He didn't transform.
Instead, he simply erased.
A wave of pure annihilation energy crackled around his palm, fueled by a mixture of Power Cosmic, Dark Magic, and raw absorbed force. It wasn't just an attack. It was erasure.
phisto felt it. And for the first ti—he hesitated.
Aryan's voice was calm, firm.
"Leave now."
A long silence stretched between them. The land around them was destroyed beyond recognition—oceans of fire, canyons of shattered stone, the air thick with crackling energy.
phisto's grin returned, but this ti, it was different.
This ti, there was respect behind it.
"...I think I like you, Maheshvara." His voice was amused, but there was sothing else there—genuine intrigue.
Then, with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.
The storm had passed.
But Aryan knew—this wouldn't be the last ti they t.
However, just as Aryan was moving towards the town to check on the safety of the innocent people, his eyes caught a glimpse of golden ripples of eldritch energy began to form a portal near where he was standing.
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