Chapter 360: The White Devil’s Ultimatum

"...How?"

Just like Erik, the rest of the Reborn Oracion Seis were completely dumbfounded. When Finn materialized from the shadows and brutally neutralized their Poison Dragon Slayer in a single, devastating motion, Macbeth (Brain II), Sorano (Angel), and Sawyer (Racer) completely froze.

While those three reacted with exaggerated, wide-eyed shock, the remaining two—a bald man hiding beneath a hood and a massive, hulking mechanical teddy bear—stood in eerie, unresponsive silence. They simply stared at the scene, their eyes devoid of any emotion.

"Hmm..."

Finn ignored Macbeth, Sorano, and Sawyer for a moment, his predatory gaze sweeping over the bald man and the bear. Mind control, or perhaps some form of puppetry, he deduced. It didn’t matter. As long as Erik was out of the picture, the rest of the board was easy to sweep.

There was a very specific reason Finn had targeted Erik—Cobra—first. The man was undeniably the most troublesome variable in the room. Not only was he a Dragon Slayer, but his passive Hearing Magic was an absolute nightmare for anyone trying to keep secrets. Many fools believed Dragon Slayer magic was Erik’s trump card, but Finn knew better; it was his ability to hear a heartbeat from miles away, to listen to the very whispers of a person’s soul and read their mind, that made him truly dangerous.

Fortunately, Finn had an ace up his sleeve.

Connected to his alternate selves across the multiverse, Finn had utilized the Manager to flawlessly replicate specific skills—particularly from his counterpart in the DxD universe. These abilities masked his presence entirely and actively jammed Erik’s Hearing Magic, creating a static void that prevented the Slayer from reading a single thought inside Finn’s head.

Frankly, of all the dark mages gathered here, Erik was the only one who genuinely made Finn cautious. He absolutely despised the idea of someone rummaging through his mind. Furthermore, while Finn rarely admitted it, he was a pragmatist; in a completely fair, head-on fight against all six members of a legendary Dark Guild, he might actually lose. These weren’t the forgiving, optimistic mages of Fairy Tail. These were hardened, bloodthirsty killers who would slaughter each other for a scrap of power.

Finn didn’t do "fair" fights.

"I will give you exactly three seconds," Finn’s voice echoed through the stuffy, sweltering ruin, cold and absolute. "Kneel and submit, or I will slaughter every single one of you right here."

"....."

A suffocating, heavy silence fell over the room.

Shiver!

Raw, unadulterated killing intent flooded the cavern. It poured off Finn in thick, oppressive waves, making the air feel impossibly heavy. Sorano gasped, her heavy, sweat-drenched breasts heaving as a terrifying chill ran down her spine. The sheer, sticky fabric of her outfit clung lewdly to her terrified, trembling curves, but Finn’s gaze offered no warmth—only the cold promise of death.

While Finn hadn’t actually killed an exorbitant amount of people in his life, he wasn’t soft. He was the type to ruthlessly crush his enemies, capturing them to be sold off to foreign kingdoms or enslaved in his massive construction projects. Of course, since mastering Golem Magic via the Manager, he had an endless supply of free, automated labor for his farms and businesses.

But the Reborn Oracion Seis were different. They weren’t meant for manual labor; they were meant to be his elite, personal attack dogs. As his ambitions expanded, he needed powerful, competent followers to handle the dirty work so he could relax.

"....."

"...Are you here alone?" Sorano finally managed to ask, her voice quivering slightly as she crossed her arms, inadvertently pushing her massive cleavage up in a display of nervous, submissive fear.

"I am," Finn nodded, his eyes lingering on her flushed, sweating collarbone for just a second before rising to meet her gaze. "To break all of you, I don’t need an army. I alone am more than enough. Hurry up and decide. Submit now, or fight me and end up bowing anyway."

"...Weren’t you just threatening to kill us a second ago?" Sawyer scoffed, trying to mask his fear with bravado.

"I was. But I’ve decided you’re all highly useful to me. Be grateful."

"Do you honestly expect us to be grateful?!" Macbeth spat, a rare, venomous anger twisting his effeminate features. "Do you really think you can win against all of us now that you’re standing in the light?! That sneak attack was a fluke!"

Did Finn really think they were weak? Macbeth was convinced Finn had only taken down Erik because of a cowardly ambush. In a direct confrontation, the White Devil didn’t stand a chance.

"Is that so?" Finn’s eyes narrowed. "Then don’t blame me when I carve a very cruel lesson into your flesh."

Finn didn’t waste another breath. Words were useless here; he needed to show them the absolute, terrifying chasm in their power levels. He knew his raw Magic Power was still growing—a slow process that he planned to accelerate once he got his hands on Ultear—but his physical lethality was already at its peak.

"Grim Reaper! Attack him with me!" Sawyer barked, dropping into a low, coiled sprinter’s stance.

The bald man in the hood—Erigor, the disgraced Wind Mage formerly of Eisenwald, now entirely mind-controlled by Macbeth—stepped forward, raising his massive scythe.

"The storm... is coming..." Erigor droned lifelessly.

"NOW!"

Sawyer exploded forward, moving with blinding, teleportation-like speed. Simultaneously, Erigor swung his scythe, unleashing a localized, city-shredding hurricane directly at Finn!

Yet, compared to Sawyer, Erigor appeared to be moving through molasses.

Speed was Sawyer’s domain. But his true, terrifying power wasn’t just moving fast—it was his Slow Magic. He possessed the tricky, time-altering ability to drastically reduce the perception and physical speed of anyone trapped within his area of effect, reducing elite mages to crawling snails.

Combined with his own enhanced velocity, it was a wildly destructive, inescapable combo.

Yet, facing the devastating two-pronged assault, Finn remained completely, horrifyingly calm.

His right arm moved. He reached slowly over his shoulder, his fingers wrapping around empty air before the thick, heavy hilt of a massive blade materialized from his spatial storage.

A heavy Claymore.

For a fraction of a moment, Finn’s body was perfectly rigid from the shoulders down. Then, his arm blurred completely out of reality.

To the eyes of everyone in the room, the massive sword simply vanished.

There was a split second of absolute, dead silence.

Nothing happened.

And then, Erigor suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

"ARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!"

Sawyer let out a blood-curdling, agonizing scream that tore through the ruins.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A devastating shockwave of pressurized wind and a microscopic, grid-like mesh of slicing sword-lines suddenly erupted across the room. Erigor’s body simply fell apart, diced into a dozen bloody, lifeless pieces before he even hit the floor. Beside him, Sawyer collapsed into a screaming, thrashing heap, both of his legs cleanly severed at the knees in a geyser of crimson blood.

"Your turn."

As Finn casually flicked the blood from his massive blade and sheathed it back into the sheath, he turned his cold eyes toward Macbeth and the trembling, wide-eyed Sorano, as their nightmare was just about to begin.

---

By the way, I might have said this before, but I have uploaded my new original story. The title is "Checking Out at 5:15 PM" with the name "OnlyPureLove44," or I might change it to Akikan in the future.

Regardless, there are more than 25 Chapters now.

You can check when you want to read more of my work, here: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/183683/checking-out-at-515-pm

Thank you!