Then everything shook.
Not metaphorically.
Reality itself trembled.
From the point where my fist had struck the air, a colossal shockwave erupted outward like the birth of a new catastrophe. Space fractured in visible ripples, the atmosphere screaming as if torn apart by invisible claws.
The ground split open.
Massive fissures raced across the earth like veins of destruction, swallowing stones and roots alike. Trees were ripped from the soil and hurled through the air as though they weighed nothing more than leaves. The magical attacks released by the devils—fire, lightning, ice, darkness—were erased instantly, crushed beneath the overwhelming pressure of the expanding wave.
The shockwave did not slow.
It continued forward, devouring everything in its path, carving a straight scar through the forest that stretched all the way toward the distant horizon.
When the dust finally settled, silence followed.
Where once stood a beautiful, ancient forest, there was now only rubble.
Broken earth.
Scorched soil.
And drifting ash.
Less than half of the devils remained alive.
Creuserey clawed his way out from beneath shattered stone, coughing violently.
"What was that?!" he shouted in disbelief, staggering to his feet beside Shalba and Katerea.
All three of them stared at the devastation with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
I looked at them calmly.
"Something beyond your comprehension," I replied coldly. "Minor beings."
Creuserey's face twisted with rage.
That was enough.
I raised my hand.
Zenith Tempest responded.
Everything that followed felt as natural as breathing.
I did not chant.
I did not invoke.
I simply willed it.
Fire erupted around my fist as I stepped forward. The earth reinforced my body, making each strike heavier, denser, more absolute. Lightning danced along my arms and legs, tracing glowing paths across my skin. Wind gathered around me, sharpening into miniature scythes of compressed air.
My breath left my lips in pale mist as the temperature dropped several degrees.
The second Longinus—my Sacred Gear, Zenith Tempest—answered every thought without hesitation.
The elements themselves rose to serve.
Storm clouds formed overhead, unleashing relentless lightning upon the surviving devils. Moisture condensed in the air, swelling into towering waves of water that crashed down and swept away everything in their path. Tornadoes of wind and flame tore across the battlefield as I swung my arms, grinding stone and flesh alike into dust.
Gigantic pillars of earth burst from below, impaling anything unfortunate enough to stand nearby.
Hailstorms formed midair, each shard sharpening itself into spears of ice before raining down with lethal precision.
Magma surged upward through shattered ground, transforming into rivers of lava that melted everything they touched.
I watched devils desperately erect barriers—
only for them to be crushed instantly beneath the authority of my Longinus.
But I wasn't satisfied.
I pulled harder.
Deeper.
Zenith Tempest was like a boundless storm dwelling inside my body. Her power came directly from nature itself—an almost limitless reservoir. The only restriction was how much my body could draw out and withstand.
Fortunately for me, I was a demigod.
And I had spent years reforging this body through relentless training.
"More," I thought.
"I need more."
"As you wish, my master."
My eyes widened.
That voice—
It echoed inside my mind, clear and resonant.
"…Was that you?"
For the first time, I truly felt her presence.
"Finally," the voice continued, warm with pride. "After all these years, you can hear me. Understand the power that is rightfully yours. Show these rookie devils what it means to provoke the Stormmaster."
Zenith Tempest.
No—
her.
Everything intensified at once.
The wind around Shalba and the others turned violent, shredding debris into razor-sharp fragments. The earth convulsed, pillars rising and vibrating with barely contained energy. The barrier Sebas had erected earlier shattered, revealing thunderous skies that burned the ground with descending lightning.
Humidity rose until water became visible in the air itself.
Elemental combinations began to layer instinctively.
Wind fused with ice.
Fire merged with earth.
Lightning intertwined with wind.
Flame met frost.
Water danced with thunder.
Every possible synergy amplified my attacks.
The ground compacted beneath my grip, followed by ice forming along invisible lines of force. Pale blue flame ignited, lightning flickered across it, and a vortex of wind wrapped around everything.
With every movement I made, the battlefield reacted.
Spires of earth reshaped the terrain.
Fire fell from the heavens.
Sheets of ice crawled across the ground, cracking and reforming with each step.
Storm winds ripped chunks of stone free.
Droplets of suspended water exploded outward with every strike.
It felt like I was rewriting the natural order itself.
"You have great potential, young master."
"…Are you the consciousness of Zenith Tempest?" I asked mentally.
"Yes. And you will likely become my strongest bearer. Especially once you reach Balance Breaker."
I smiled faintly.
"Really? Then I'm honored. But Zenith Tempest sounds more like a title. May I call you something else?"
There was a brief pause.
"…Arashi."
"Arashi?"
"It means 'Storm' in your mother's native language."
"I like it," I replied. "Thank you, Arashi."
A soft pride echoed back.
"You will surpass all previous hosts. This is the first time my bearer is a demigod."
"I look forward to working together."
"You will. But focus on the battle."
I cut off the flow of power and surveyed the battlefield.
It was gone.
Not damaged.
Gone.
Dozens of devil corpses littered the shattered landscape. The entire area resembled the aftermath of a divine catastrophe.
Shalba, Katerea, and Creuserey were still alive.
Barely.
Shalba's left side was severely burned, jagged shards of ice embedded in his flesh.
Katerea had escaped with only scattered burns, protected by Creuserey at the last moment.
Creuserey himself was in far worse shape—his body almost entirely scorched, blood pouring freely from countless wounds as he lay collapsed on one knee.
He had shielded Katerea.
How touching.
I looked down at them with open disdain.
"So this is all the descendants of Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Leviathan can manage?"
My voice was calm.
Flat.
"Pathetic."