Chapter 58 — Shin Akira vs Ottar!
Craaaash!
The glass windows at the top of Babel Tower shattered into glittering shards as two figures burst through—one in pursuit of the other.
High in the air, Akira steadied himself with the power of his Psychic Force, hovering gracefully. Meanwhile, Ottar plummeted like a meteor, his massive frame cutting through the sky with sheer weight and force.
A violent impact followed.
The moment Ottar hit the ground, the blue stone pavement cracked beneath him, spreading fractures like a spiderweb. A wide crater formed at the epicenter, smoke and dust swirling up into the air.
And yet, he was completely unscathed.
That height meant nothing to someone like him. For a warrior of his caliber, a fall like that was as insignificant as stepping off a ledge.
"What was that noise?!"
"Something crashed—!"
"It came from Babel Tower!"
"Come on, let's check it out!"
The sun had begun to dip into the horizon, casting long shadows over the city of Orario. People in the central plaza looked up, alarmed but curious. After all, no matter the world, humans shared the same instinct—when there's noise, there's something to see.
But Ottar paid them no mind. Without so much as a glance, he turned and began walking toward Orario's outer gates. If a serious battle was about to break out, the last place it should happen was within the city walls.
Guild law was clear: large-scale combat between adventurers within Orario was strictly forbidden.
Akira, on the other hand, didn't care in the slightest. He soared through the air, completely ignoring the city's gates and flying straight toward open ground beyond the walls.
"Partner... Ddraig... I don't know if you're still asleep, but I really need your power right now."
But there was no answer.
Only silence.
Akira gave a small, bitter smile. He figured it might be something like this. Back in the world of High School DxD, he had often ignored Ddraig's will. Maybe this was payback.
If the Red Dragon Emperor didn't want to help him anymore, Akira could hardly blame him.
The sun continued its slow descent, dyeing the sky in hues of gold and crimson.
Step by step, a steady rhythm echoed through the empty field.
Ottar had arrived.
Akira touched down lightly, landing a few meters away from the giant warrior.
"Ottar," he said calmly, locking eyes with him. "Today, I'll prove to you that level isn't everything."
"Then show me. If you can defeat me, that is."
His tone was flat and cold—no emotion, no arrogance, just indifference. And somehow, that annoyed Akira more than any insult would have.
[Boost!]
In an instant, a crimson gauntlet materialized around Akira's right arm, glowing with a pulsing emerald gem. The Boosted Gear—the Red Dragon Emperor's Gauntlet—activated with a low mechanical hum. His power surged, doubling in strength.
"So that's your artifact... The Red Dragon Emperor's Gauntlet," Ottar muttered, unmoved.
"Yeah? So what?"
"No matter how impressive your gear, your base stats are still lacking. Power like that doesn't fill the gap between us."
"Maybe. If this was just any ordinary artifact."
"Oh?"
"This is one of the Thirteen Longinus—a Sacred Gear known as a God-Slaying Tool. Every ten seconds, my power doubles again. Theoretically... if I have enough time, even a god can fall before me."
"Thirteen God-Slaying Tools? Ridiculous. I've never heard of such things."
"Believe what you want. The truth remains. Ottar... today, you're going down. You might be stronger right now, but with this power... I will surpass you."
"How naive."
Screeee—
Ottar unsheathed the two enormous swords strapped across his back. His expression didn't change, but the mention of a god-slaying artifact had clearly caught his attention.
Any artifact with the word god in its classification... wasn't something to take lightly.
If Akira wasn't lying, then this fight had a time limit. The longer Ottar let it drag on, the more dangerous it became.
[Boost!]
Another pulse of energy.
The emerald gem on Akira's gauntlet glowed brighter, and his strength doubled once more.
Fwoooosh!
Ottar moved.
In a blink, the giant warrior closed the distance. His speed defied logic—like a cannonball fired at point-blank range. His massive blade came crashing down from above, aiming directly for Akira's head.
He wasn't using full force. He didn't need to. His goal wasn't to kill Akira—just to subdue him. Freya-sama wanted this man alive and properly "trained."
Akira responded in kind.
A glowing crimson sword materialized in his hands—Ascalon, the Dragon Slayer blade.
He raised it just in time, intercepting the blow. The shock of impact sent tremors down his arms. His feet skidded back across the dirt. Even after blocking it, the force left him shaken.
And that was a half-hearted swing.
Ottar was a Level 7 adventurer. Even among those at the peak of power, he was an anomaly.
His stats were monstrous. Strength, Endurance, Agility, Dexterity—all four had reached S-rank. Two were maxed at 999. The other two were nearly there. Only his Magic stat lagged behind at D-rank.
By Orario standards, he was a living legend.
Most adventurers never reached S-rank in even one stat. Captain Finn of Loki Familia had only two—and that was with every advantage his race and experience could offer.
But Ottar? He had broken every limit. Through raw effort alone, he stood above them all.
"If your Sacred Gear can really kill gods... then letting someone like you wield it is a disgrace. Your power... is pitiful."
A moment later—
Wham!
Ottar's body erupted with a surge of power. His muscles expanded. A violent wave of pressure exploded outward as he launched a devastating punch, slamming into Akira and sending him flying like a ragdoll.
Akira hit the ground hard, bouncing once before tumbling to a stop.
His hands trembled.
The grip on Ascalon slipped slightly.
[Boost!]
Once again, his power doubled.
And yet, he didn't look relieved. He wasn't smiling. His expression only grew more focused.
It still wasn't enough.
He needed more time. More boosts. Only then could he close the gap.
"Shadow Army... assemble!"
Shfft! Shfft! Shfft!
From the edges of the field, shadowy figures emerged—slipping from the darkness like ghosts. Dozens of ninjas, each wielding weapons, some with wings of black smoke rising from their backs. They moved silently, surrounding Ottar.
These were the warriors of the Shadow Realm, soldiers under the command of the King of the Shadowkhan.
Their claws and blades shimmered beneath the twilight sky.
"Stalling for time with this trash? Do you really think they can stop me?"
Ottar gave a brief glance around.
He wasn't impressed.
No matter how many there were, numbers didn't matter to someone like him. Against overwhelming strength, cannon fodder wouldn't make a difference.
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