Rise of the Crusader



As the sky darkened, ominous clouds gathered and cast a suffocating shadow over the surrounding. The air grew heavy, charged with an oppressive energy that threatened to crush all in its path.

Synilla's heart raced, her instincts screaming that the incoming attack would be catastrophic. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting between the menacing clouds and her adversary.

"I will bury you here," Raphael declared, his voice steady and confident, his expression resolute. "I promise."

With a commanding sweep of his arm, he unleashed the storm's fury. Bolts of lightning, three times thicker than before, tore through the sky, their destructive power palpable.

The very air seemed to vibrate with the promise of annihilation.

Despite fusing with Rio to become a seven-foot-tall behemoth, Sybilla's newfound power seemed insignificant in the face of the oncoming tempest.

Her body trembled violently, fear gripping her heart.

"Raph-" Her voice barely more than a whisper, she was cut off as the first bolt struck, searing pain coursing through her body.

Sybilla convulsed, her limbs flailing uncontrollably.

Her terror-filled eyes widened as another bolt, twice as thick as the previous one, bore down on her. It struck with an unyielding force, sending her stumbling backward.

The lightning showed no mercy, relentlessly assailing her. At times, multiple bolts struck simultaneously, their intensity increasing with each hit.

Sybilla's screams of agony echoed through the desolate landscape, a haunting lament that could rouse the dead.

Her once-powerful form was now a battered, bloodied ruin. Crimson stained her face, hands, torso, and legs, each strike having torn her flesh asunder.

Sybilla glared at Raphael through tear-filled eyes, her only thought to tear him limb from limb.

But every time she attempted to move, another barrage of lightning kept her pinned in place, her body wracked with pain.

Unfazed by her suffering, Raphael crouched down, withdrawing a large suitcase from the shadows. He opened it to reveal a disassembled bazooka, which he meticulously assembled piece by piece.

His movements were precise, calculated, and he never once looked up to acknowledge Sybilla's torment.

As her anguished cries filled the air, Raphael's focus never wavered. The bazooka demanded his complete attention, for he intended it to be the instrument to seal her fate.

With the weapon fully assembled, he rose to his feet, a sinister smile gracing his lips.

Raphael's eyes gleamed with love and adoration as he stared at the bazooka in his hands. It was as if he beheld a priceless jewel, the object of his deepest desires.

However, as his gaze shifted to Sybilla, who was standing before him in a disoriented state.

The frown that now creased his brow appeared faster than a flash of lightning, and despite Sybilla's pitiful state, not a trace of pity could be found on his face.

In fact, it seemed as if Raphael was contemplating even more cruel methods of ending her life. The Absolute Decay would have been an ideal choice, but he was hesitant to get too close to her due to her formidable power.

Though he had managed to resist her mind control abilities by maintaining a safe distance and bombarding her with bolts of lightning, Raphael wasn't confident he could do the same up close.

The gap between an A-Rank metahuman like himself and an SS-Rank metahuman like Sybilla was vast, and he couldn't afford to underestimate her.

Unleashing the full force of the Absolute Decay wasn't an option either. The potential consequences were too severe – he could wipe out an entire city and find himself hunted by the world.

As yet another bolt of lightning pierced Sybilla's body, Raphael aimed the bazooka at her. Her attention, which had been focused on the devastating lightning, now shifted to the imposing figure of Raphael and the terrifying weapon he held.

If the lightning had instilled a sense of unease in her, the sight of the bazooka filled her with the unmistakable scent of death. It felt as though the door of death itself stood before her, held open by the black, intricately patterned weapon that Raphael aimed with grim determination.

Sybilla's heart raced, her instincts screaming that this weapon was different from the lightning that had battered her.

This weapon could not only kill her – it could obliterate her entirely.

"Hehe."

Raphael suddenly chuckled, a sinister sound that sent shivers down Sybilla's spine. He seemed to take pleasure in the terror that gripped her.

With a slow, deliberate motion, he placed his finger on the trigger and pulled it, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

Sybilla, sensing the impending doom, attempted to scramble away from the line of fire. But the relentless barrage of lightning hampered her movements, making her realize the true purpose of Raphael's strategy – the lightning not only disrupted her mind control abilities but also prevented her from fleeing.

As the trigger clicked with no immediate effect, Sybilla's expression twisted into a sneer. Despite the pain of the lightning's assault, the sight of Raphael's apparent failure was a small victory she intended to savor.

Sybilla's excitement was fleeting; her sneer was still etched on her face when, inexplicably, a black hole erupted from the bazooka's barrel.

It was minuscule at first, but it swelled rapidly, expanding into a formidable void that threatened to consume everything in its path.

The black hole surged toward Sybilla with relentless force, annihilating anything it touched. She tried to move, to escape its gravitational pull, but she was paralyzed, her muscles refusing to heed her desperate commands.

It was as if fate had resigned her to face the black hole's merciless wrath.

Time seemed to stretch, its passage distorted by the dark anomaly. Sybilla's heart hammered in her chest as the black hole closed in, inching nearer and nearer. Finally, when it was almost upon her, she squeezed her eyes shut in terror, bracing for the end.

Raphael, who had pulled the trigger of the bazooka bit his lips hard. The monumental effort of firing the weapon had left him gasping for breath, his limbs weak and trembling.

He watched the scene unfold with a mixture of horror and fascination, his heart in his throat as the black hole bore down on Sybilla. But just as it seemed all hope was lost, a figure materialized before her, as if conjured from thin air.

As the black hole loomed, poised to consume Sybilla, the figure opened its mouth impossibly wide and swallowed the void with astonishing ease. The danger averted, the figure turned its gaze on Raphael, a knowing smile playing at the corners of its lips.