MIGHT AS WELL BE OP - Chapter 857

Chapter 857: Role Play
Above, an Angel standing at eight feet in height floated with the serene majesty of a holy paladin. He possessed bulking and bulging muscles carved with almost divine precision, each line of his physique radiating an overwhelming, holy strength.

On his back, eleven pairs of wings extended with tremendous length, feathers luminous, pristine, and impossibly vast, as though sculpted from the first light that ever existed. Golden armor plated every part of his body, gleaming with an immaculate radiance that made him seem less like a being and more like a sacred ideal brought to life.

Light poured from his form endlessly, as though he were not merely basking in it but was in fact the very source, the absolute originality of light itself. His presence was welcoming, soft, sincere, carrying the warmth of a divine embrace falsely promising peace to anyone who gazed upon him.

In his colossal hand, a massive hammer rested, a bright golden weapon forged with such immaculate craftsmanship that it seemed capable of shattering the strongest metal, the hardest stone, and the most reinforced reality in existence.

“Heretic,” the Angel finally spoke, his voice soft yet commanding, each syllable echoing with reverberations of faith. His golden eyes remained fixed on Anthony. “It is not too late to change. The Light welcomes all who choose to renounce the Darkness.”

Anthony simply stared at the eleven-winged white and golden colored bird standing before him. He knew immediately that the Angel had mistaken him for a Demon disguised in human form. But Anthony did not bother explaining the misunderstanding. They were in the middle of a war, on a battlefield paved with corpses, blood, and the ashes of those who had already fallen. In a place like this, explanations were less than meaningless.

‘I suppose I should role-play for today,’ Anthony mused inwardly. ‘Besides, I’m certain this Angel is one of the strongest among the eleven-winged Angels.’

Although he acknowledged that the Angel before him was indeed one of the most formidable of his rank, that did not mean the Angel posed any real challenge. Anthony knew he could end this battle just as effortlessly as he had ended every other Angel he encountered.

‘I guess I’ll be on Evil’s side for the moment,’ Anthony thought with mild amusement.

“Ohhh, Angel brainwashed by the Light,” Anthony declared dramatically, shifting into a villainous persona dripping with exaggerated malice. “The Darkness shall rule and shall always rule! The Demon Lord accepts all who bow to their knees as his children. Kneel before the Demon Lord, and you shall be blessed with power, women, and riches!”

He slowly drew the katana hanging at his waist. With a single thought, the blade shapeshifted, its elegant steel rippling into a massive, black, heavy hammer matching the Angel’s hammer size. Chaos energy burst from the weapon’s surface in violent waves, spiraling around it like coiling serpents, black, unrestrained, and utterly monstrous. It was the opposite of the serene, orderly faith energy coursing through the Angel’s radiant hammer.

Using Quantum Manipulation, Anthony fabricated black demonic plates that assembled themselves over his body like a living armor mimicking the Angel’s radiant plating, except twisted, corrupted, and malevolent.

‘My costume is complete,’ he thought with satisfaction. To him, this was nothing but entertainment. The deaths of the other races from his home galaxy did not concern him in the slightest. If they died, then so be it. If they survived, then that was fine too. He was simply here to enjoy the moment.

‘I think this will be the first time I’m using Chaos energy in battle,’ he mused.

“Heretic,” the Angel said again, his expression unchanging, his tone dipped in divine compassion, “it seems only in death can you accept Him and be brought into the Light.” He leaned forward, wings tightening, and spoke one final time, “You shall be loved even in death. Your sins shall be forgiven.”

Without waiting for Anthony to respond with his own theatrics, the Angel shot forward in a blur of golden faith energy. His colossal size did nothing, absolutely nothing, to hinder his speed. Within a nanosecond, he was already upon Anthony, his golden hammer roaring through the cosmic air with the force and inevitability of a collapsing star.

But Anthony was never one to be outdone. Size difference meant nothing. Existence difference meant nothing. Power was power, his power.

His black chaos hammer tore upward in a cataclysmic arc, his body transforming into a streak of pure darkness, a slash of chaos against divinity.

In the next instant, the two hammers collided.

Time stuttered. Reality trembled. For a moment, even the cosmos seemed unsure whether it wished to continue existing.

Then everything snapped back.

A blinding white explosion engulfed the battlefield as faith and chaos erupted outward in a ruinous crescendo, their energies clashing with a magnitude far beyond mortal comprehension.

The point of impact, where their hammers met, shattered. The very fabric of reality warped, then collapsed into pure oblivion under the unfathomable weight of their brute force. Faith energy lashed against chaos energy like two primordial storms fighting for dominion. Anthony wore a wild grin, his expression twisted into something terrifying, almost as though he truly were transforming into a demon in that moment.

With a burst of momentum, both combatants vanished. One was golden; the other was black. One symbolized justice; the other radiated evil. The sound of the cosmic air being torn apart in consecutive, unending ruptures thundered like a war drum through every eardrum.

They moved, power for power, might for might, speed for speed, energy for energy, hammer for hammer, stamina for stamina, force for force, brawn for brawn. The galaxy faded from their perception. Their entire worlds shrank until only one another existed, locked together like two toxic lovers bound by an unending, destructive fate.

Their muscles tightened, veins bulging, blood circulation surging. Their fibers strained to their limits as their speed skyrocketed even further. They were no longer beings, they were blurs, phantoms, mirages, afterimages. Reality itself doubted its ability to measure such speed.

Speed of light? Too slow.

Speed of thought? Too sluggish.

The golden hammer descended toward Anthony’s skull with the force of a collapsing solar system. But Anthony was ready. With a single whirl of motion, he dodged, his black hammer twisting elegantly in his grip as he retaliated with a counterattack even fiercer. His weapon ripped toward the Angel’s head like an executioner’s guillotine.

The Angel was fast, astonishingly so. And at this proximity, his speed multiplied even further. Faith and light exploded around him, pushing his velocity beyond every recorded threshold. At the final possible fraction of a moment, he twisted and blocked. Their hammers met once more, detonating another ruinous blast of apocalyptic magnitude.

Golden Hammer Mirage.

The Angel shifted into a hammer technique. His arms blurred with instantaneous velocity. Reality distorted. Millions of golden hammers, each radiating crushing mass, impossible force, and divine authority, materialized above Anthony and collapsed downward.

Anthony simply grinned.

Endless Technique: Hammer Series: Chaotic Mountain.

Chaos energy erupted from Anthony’s body, turning him into a black streak of motion. His hammer moved with monstrous precision as he struck every single golden hammer descending toward him. He did not dodge. He did not deflect. He stood his ground, like an immovable mountain, an unbending, chaotic mountain.

Reality tore open as storms of energy exploded outward. Chaos and faith clashed head-on, each fighting for supremacy. Dust, light, darkness, and cosmic debris swirled into a chaotic haze.

A single pulse of Anthony’s chaos energy cleared it all away. His sky-blue eyes locked onto the towering Angel.

Anthony stepped forward, silent, controlled. With his next step, he vanished in a flicker of chaotic movement, erasing the distance instantly. His hammer rose toward the cosmic heavens, then descended with the force of a mad divine leviathan. The very air screamed as the hammer fell.

But the Angel was ready. His golden hammer flashed upward, and with a titanic eruption, they clashed once more, two divine battering rams colliding with unrestrained fury.

To them, the galaxy was merely their stage.

And only one would remain standing over the other.

One fought for his God.

One fought for his fun.