Shinji Matou at Your Service

Regarding the internal complaints about his methods of killing, it was naturally impossible for Shinji, far away in the city center, not to hear them. Even if he did hear, at most, he would apologize to Satsuki and then continue at his own pace. The combat training he received from a young age emphasized simplicity and efficiency—he wouldn't change, nor did he want to. Apologizing was already a rare display of consideration for a girl; if it were a stranger, he wouldn't even bother to say a word.

However, trash-talk was still routine.

"Makihisa Tohno is a good choice, but it's a pity. In this city, no one has seen Makihisa Tohno at his peak anymore. I should commend Miss Akiha for this; otherwise, it would have taken more effort."

Since the destruction of the Nanaya family, the Tohno family's position had become increasingly solidified, and Makihisa himself rarely took action. As Akiha relocated the clan members out of their old home, she became the only person in the city who had witnessed Makihisa fight, and that was in a teaching capacity. Under such circumstances, how much power could Makihisa exert? A phantom based on this model was naturally no match for Shinji.

"Well then, the warm-up ends here. I don't believe the mighty Night of Wallachia only has this much skill. The title of Dead Apostle Ancestor would cry."

Stretching towards the twisted black fog, Shinji's actions and expressions exuded absolute confidence.

The black fog suddenly contracted and then expanded wildly. Though Touko and the others couldn't hear the sound, they could still feel the contained fury. When had the Night of Wallachia, which even the Holy Church's top brass handled with caution, ever been so belittled?

The expanding black fog elongated, eventually forming misty threads around Shinji. The three closest threads twisted and transformed upon touching the ground, finally manifesting into three phantoms: the killer, the Red Hair Ghost, and Makihisa Tohno.

When quality isn't enough, quantity makes up for it—a timeless strategy in the history of human warfare.

The first to act was the killer, once again employing a spider-like maneuver to surround Shinji.

Makihisa's phantom followed, forcing Shinji into a hard confrontation with the most direct approach.

Shinji seemed unwilling to engage directly, preparing to evade, but the Red Ghost had already accumulated enough heat, sealing his retreat with a high-temperature blast.

The three phantoms didn't fight independently but instead worked together. Makihisa charged head-on, the killer provided high-speed support, and the Red Ghost bombarded from a distance. The three-pronged attack complemented each other's strengths, perfectly fitting the saying, Birds of a feather flock together.

Although Akiha and the others had anticipated multiple phantoms, they were still shocked by the phantoms' coordinated assault. While calculating how they would respond if they were in his shoes, they watched the crystal ball image intently to see Shinji's reaction.

Shinji's response was simple. He spread his hands apart.

With the knife in his left hand aimed at Makihisa, who was just a step away, a black slash radiated from the knife tip a second before Makihisa's punch landed, instantly splitting him in two.

His other hand targeted the distant Red Ghost. As she launched her high-temperature attack, a golden lightning bolt shot out from Shinji's hand. The lightning's speed was so fast that the heat hadn't even spread before the Red Ghost was turned to charcoal.

Without the long-range support of the Red Ghost and the frontal assault of Makihisa, the killer, who only relied on speed, posed no threat. Shinji used Mana Burst combined with a flash step to catch up to him and kill him with a single stroke.

The Night of Wallachia was fed up with Shinji's trash talk. Before he could speak, the dispersed fog had already materialized new phantoms.

Though the types of phantoms remained the same as before, their numbers multiplied tenfold—thirty phantoms in total. The legendary dead apostle was finally serious.

"This, this is—!!!"

"Is this even possible???"

Several gasps and sounds of inhaling sharply echoed in the Tohno family's reception room.

A single phantom wasn't terrifying, nor was the ability to continually revive. However, the ability to replicate multiple phantoms at once was truly frightening. Judging by the lack of significant reduction in the black fog of the Night of Wallachia, creating phantoms of this magnitude was not a major effort.

Even Riesbyfe, who ranked among the top ten in the Church and had stained her hands with the blood of countless heretics, couldn't help but sigh, "I see, so that's why my subordinates were completely wiped out."

Though her knight order consisted of elite members, they were still flesh and blood. They couldn't outlast the infinitely regenerating and replicating phantoms, which was precisely the terror of the Night of Wallachia.

"Touko-sensei, quickly inform Shinji to retreat," Shiki said anxiously.

"Even if he can handle this wave, there will come a time when he can't hold out."

Touko's attitude was quite the opposite. She reached out and tapped on Shinji's image.

"There's no need for that. Look closely at his expression. Does he look unsure to you?"

"Well..."

Indeed, Shinji not only showed no sign of panic but was instead eagerly examining the phantoms that surrounded him heavily.

Then, Sion began her lip-reading translation.

"My, my, what a grand scene. Even I would get a headache facing so many people. Fortunately—I came prepared."

As Shinji spoke, he raised his right hand high, pointing to the nearly full silver moon in the sky, and enunciated each word.

"Heavenly. Descent. Justice!"

In the bright moonlight, a spot of white appeared, whiter and purer than the moon itself, standing in stark contrast to the black fog at the center of the rooftop.

Along with the white light came an ear-piercing explosion, the sound of some massive object tearing through the air at high speed, like a meteor falling from the sky.

Amidst the rumbling, the white light plummeted, its target unmistakably the Temple building where Shinji stood.

The pure light illuminated the entire rooftop and, in the next second, exploded with terrifying wind pressure, sweeping everything off the rooftop. The steel scaffolding, construction materials piled in the corners, the thirty phantoms, and the black fog controlling them—even the rooftop itself—were blown away and destroyed by this white meteor.

When the crystal ball's image was restored, the Temple rooftop was no more. Amidst the rubble and ruins, a black-haired, black-eyed boy brushed the dust off himself, clicking his tongue in admiration.

"Seems like I overdid it a bit. But this can't kill you, can it, TATARI?"

Before his words had even faded, a cold wind blew, and strands of black fog once again gathered from all directions, coalescing into the indescribable, twisted mass in an instant.

The same place, the same form, as if nothing had changed.