I Conquer Hell and Heaven With 666 Trillion Coins

"MASTER!"

Percival’s scream had echoed through the woodland.

The moment Dean looked up, all he could see was a black shadow.

The Commander had already closed in on him.

There had been no flapping of wings, no preparatory movements, no sound whatsoever. It was as if he had vanished from where he’d been standing and materialised directly in front of Dean.

Dean’s instincts were sounding a frantic alarm.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he raised the Spear of Dawn across his chest.

"BOOOOOOM!"

The moment the black arrow’s hard shaft struck the spear, an explosion so powerful it deafened his ears erupted.

The sheer pressure of the collision alone had sent the dry leaves in the vicinity flying dozens of metres away.

The ground beneath Dean’s feet had cracked and shattered.

Every muscle in his legs began to tremble simultaneously.

"Guugh..."

He couldn’t help but groan.

His knees were almost touching the ground.

The Commander, however, was pressing down on his bow with one hand, showing not the slightest sign of strain.

The smile beneath his mask had grown even wider.

"That’s it... Come on, keep entertaining me!"

Dean clenched his teeth. The muscles in his arms felt as though they were about to tear. Despite this, he did not take a step back.

Suddenly, Holy Power began to flow through his veins once more. Or rather, the Holy Power that the spear was constantly radiating outwards and drawing back in continued to reach Dean directly.

The golden light rising from the Spear of Dawn clashed with the commander’s black sacred energy; the two opposing forces repelled one another in the air.

Just then, Percival lunged forward in a rage.

"Stay away from my master!"

His massive sword came down from above, but the two enemy angels had stepped in front of him at the same moment.

"CLANG!"

One parried the blow with his long spear, whilst the other swung his axe towards Percival’s knees.

Percival was forced to retreat.

Behind him, a third angel spread its wings and struck him in the back. The colossal Ghost was sent skidding several metres backwards.

"Don’t let him get away!" the commander shouted.

The enemy angels showed no sign of losing their coordination. Each had been assigned a single task.

[To ensure no one approached the commander.]

In the rest of the wooded area, the battle had spiralled completely out of control. As two allied angels fought back-to-back, five different enemies were charging at them simultaneously.

Swords clashed, spears pierced bodies, wings forged from Holy Power were torn from their holders, and red and white blood rained down upon the ground once more.

One friendly angel, despite the blow to his chest, had fought until his last breath, managing to sever the neck of the angel opposite him just before he died.

Another, despite having lost a wing entirely, had not fallen to his knees; instead, he had hurled his halberd one last time, bringing his enemy down.

The battlefield had completely lost the order it had possessed just a few minutes earlier.

Now there was nothing but chaos.

Right at the centre of this chaos, Dean and the commander were locked in combat. The commander drew back his bow.

Dean managed to take a deep breath, but it was only for a moment.

In the next second, the commander thrust the bow forward, this time using it like a spear. Dean parried the blow by twisting his spear.

Then he launched his own attack.

The Spear of Dawn streaked towards the commander’s chest, leaving a trail of golden light.

The commander merely sidestepped by half a step.

The spear had missed him.

"Slow."

Dean did not reply.

Second strike...

Third...

Fourth...

He was swinging his spear relentlessly.

Each attack was more fluid than the last. As Holy Power coursed through his body, his movements grew faster.

Yet all the commander did was dodge.

He neither counter-attacked nor seemed to be struggling.

He was simply watching. It was as if he were assessing Dean.

Suddenly, he spoke.

"The spear has accepted you. Unlocking the full potential of an S-Grade artefact and making it accept you is no easy feat."

Dean’s eyes widened for a moment. He hadn’t quite understood what the commander was trying to say. The commander, however, could sense this.

"But..."

This time, the commander launched his first genuine attack.

He swung his bow at waist height.

Dean tried to parry it.

"BOOOOM!"

The force of the collision was far greater this time.

Both of Dean’s feet were knocked off the ground.

His body only came to a halt after snapping three trees behind him, one after the other.

The pain radiating from his back took his breath away. His body was now being pushed to its absolute limits. Had he not possessed both mana and holy power, he would have died dozens of times by now.

A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

As he tried to get to his feet, the commander was walking towards him with slow, measured steps. Neither his breathing nor his posture had changed.

The difference in power between them was overwhelming.

The commander stopped a few metres in front of him. He rested his bow on his shoulder.

"Do you understand now?"

Dean pushed himself up, leaning his spear against the ground. The commander continued.

"No matter how powerful your weapon may be..." he stared into his eyes.

"If the one wielding it is weak, the outcome remains the same," the commander said.

Dean wiped the blood from his face with his arm. He steadied his trembling legs once more. The Spear of Dawn glowed faintly in his palms.

The Holy Power within his chest had begun to surge faster than ever before.

Seeing this, the commander bowed his head slightly.

"Aren’t you going to give up?"

Dean’s only response was to raise his spear once more.

The tip was pointing directly at the commander’s throat.

The commander smiled faintly from beneath his mask.

"That’s exactly what I wanted to see."

In the next second...

Both of them lunged forward at the same time.

As the two figures charged forward simultaneously, the distance between them vanished in an instant.

"CLANG!"

The Spear of Dawn and the black bow clashed once more; this time, the resulting shockwave involuntarily pushed even the friendly and enemy angels fighting nearby back a few paces.

For the first time, a look of focus appeared in the Commander’s eyes.

Dean’s attacks were no longer merely instinctive swings.

Each strike followed the next; after every parry, the spearhead would surge forward again at lethal speed from a different angle.

As the Commander parried one strike, he was forced to meet the second, immediate follow-up with the lower part of his bow.

"You’re incredible," he murmured.

"Your ability to adapt so quickly is beyond what I expected."

Dean did not reply.

His breathing was ragged, his chest was burning, and his muscles were protesting with every movement.

Yet the Spear of Dawn in his palms still retained its warmth.

It was as if it were whispering a single thing to him.

[Carry on.]

Gritting his teeth, Dean lunged forward once more.

This duel...

It was no longer merely a struggle for survival.

Both of them had begun to test the warrior standing opposite them.

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