We Have Crossed 100 Powerstones Mark so as promised here is an extra Chapter.
Enjoy!!!
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Flashback — Scathach
Scathach.
The ruler of the Land of Shadows.
The legendary God Slayer.
A woman whose name was etched into history as one of the greatest warriors the world had ever produced.
There were many beings stronger than her in terms of raw power, but when it came to pure skill, technique, and combat experience, very few could stand beside her.
As someone who constantly sought greater strength, Sirzechs naturally sought her out.
At the time, he had already become one of the strongest Devils in existence, but he understood a simple truth:
Power alone did not make a warrior.
A fool given enough strength could destroy a mountain.
A true master could change the outcome of a war with a single strike.
And so he traveled to the Land of Shadows, seeking to learn the arts of close-quarters combat and weapon mastery from the greatest teacher he could find.
Fortunately, Scathach had never rejected a student capable of meeting her standards.
And Sirzechs possessed talent that could only be described as monstrous.
From the moment she accepted him as her disciple, his life became a living nightmare.
Days turned into months.
Months turned into years.
Every lesson was accompanied by bruises, broken bones, and enough near-death experiences to make even veteran warriors shudder.
Scathach held nothing back.
To her, combat was not something that could be taught through words alone.
A warrior was forged through battle.
And so she beat every lesson directly into him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
More than once, Sirzechs had wondered whether his teacher secretly enjoyed watching him suffer.
The fact that she always seemed to smile whenever he collapsed from exhaustion certainly did not help his suspicions.
Still, the results spoke for themselves.
Under Scathach’s guidance, Sirzechs gradually became one of the greatest close-combat fighters in the world.
His movements became sharper.
His instincts became deadlier.
His understanding of battle deepened with every passing year.
Most importantly, he learned how to fight without relying solely on overwhelming power.
When sparring with Scathach, he deliberately refrained from using the Power of Destruction offensively.
Doing so would have defeated the entire purpose of his training.
If every battle ended with him erasing his opponent from existence, he would never develop the skills necessary to face enemies who matched him in power.
Scathach made sure he understood that lesson thoroughly.
Alongside martial combat, she also taught him the ancient art of Rune Magic.
Runes were among the oldest forms of magecraft in existence.
Rather than constructing spells through lengthy incantations, a practitioner inscribed mystical symbols that represented concepts and natural laws.
Each rune possessed unique properties.
Some controlled fire.
Some manipulated wind.
Others strengthened the body, created barriers, healed injuries, concealed one’s presence, or enhanced weapons.
In the hands of an amateur, runes were useful tools.
In the hands of a master, they became reality-altering miracles.
Scathach herself was one of the greatest rune users in existence.
Under her instruction, Sirzechs learned how to weave runes into combat, combining magic and martial skill into a seamless whole.
The two of them sparred with countless weapons throughout the years.
Swords.
Spears.
Axes.
Halberds.
Daggers.
Bows.
Even exotic weapons that had long since vanished from common use.
Although Scathach favored her divine spear, Gáe Bolg Alternative, above all others, her mastery extended far beyond a single weapon.
She possessed frightening proficiency with nearly every weapon known to mankind.
Each lesson taught Sirzechs the advantages and disadvantages of different fighting styles.
How to exploit reach.
How to control momentum.
How to manipulate an opponent’s expectations.
How to kill efficiently.
Eventually, however, he settled upon a weapon that suited him best.
A scythe.
The choice surprised even Scathach.
Scythes were notoriously difficult weapons to master.
Their unusual balance made them awkward compared to swords or spears.
Yet for some reason, Sirzechs possessed a natural affinity for them.
Perhaps it was because the weapon suited his fighting style.
Perhaps it was simply personal preference.
Whatever the reason, he quickly became exceptionally skilled with it.
From then on, the crimson scythe became his weapon of choice.
Of course, despite all his training, Sirzechs remained a Devil first and foremost.
His true specialty was magic.
More specifically—
Destruction.
When he unleashed his Super Devil form and became the incarnation of destruction itself, skill often became secondary.
After all, there were very few beings in existence capable of stopping a rampaging Sirzechs Lucifer.
And those who could were few enough to count on one’s fingers.
Even so, the years spent training under Scathach were among the most valuable of his life.
Because she had taught him something far more important than how to wield a weapon.
She had taught him how to fight.
And that difference had allowed him to stand where he was today.
Years passed in the Land of Shadows.
What had begun as a relationship between teacher and student gradually evolved into something much deeper.
Countless battles.
Countless conversations.
Countless moments spent together beneath the dark skies of the Shadow Realm.
It would have been stranger if they had not grown attached to one another.
Sirzechs admired Scathach.
Not only for her beauty, but for the person she was.
Her unwavering determination.
Her pride as a warrior.
Her relentless pursuit of perfection.
And Scathach, in turn, found herself increasingly drawn to the young Devil who had arrived seeking strength.
He was talented.
Driven.
Stubborn enough to continue standing back up no matter how many times she knocked him down.
Most importantly, he understood her.
He understood the loneliness of standing at the top.
The burden of strength.
The endless desire to push beyond one’s limits.
Yet despite the feelings that gradually formed between them, neither of them took the final step.
The reason was simple.
Scathach was a warrior.
A woman who had spent her entire life walking the path of battle.
And such a woman would never willingly give her heart to a man she considered weaker than herself.
Strictly speaking, Sirzechs had already surpassed her in raw power long ago.
His magical ability alone dwarfed hers.
His Power of Destruction was one of the most terrifying abilities in existence.
If they fought without restrictions, Scathach herself admitted that victory would likely belong to him.
But that wasn’t enough.
Power alone was meaningless to her.
A warrior’s worth was measured through skill.
Through combat.
Through victory.
And in all their years of sparring, Sirzechs had never truly defeated her.
Not once.
Many of their battles had ended in draws.
Others had been interrupted before a clear winner emerged.
And whenever Sirzechs seemed close to surpassing her, Scathach would somehow improve again and widen the gap.
It was infuriating.
And strangely exhilarating.
Of course, Scathach was not unreasonable.
If she disliked someone, then even if they managed to defeat her, she would never submit to them.
She would sooner challenge them to a fight to the death than become theirs.
That was simply the kind of woman she was.
Proud.
Stubborn.
Unyielding.
Fortunately for Sirzechs, that was not the case.
The feelings between them were already there.
Neither of them bothered denying it anymore.
The only thing preventing their relationship from progressing was a single obstacle.
He had to defeat her.
Not with overwhelming power.
Not with his status as a Satan.
Not with the Power of Destruction.
But as a warrior.
As a man.
And Sirzechs had his own pride.
If he was going to win Scathach’s heart, then he would do it properly.
He would defeat her in the very field where she stood supreme.
Close combat.
Weapon mastery.
Pure skill.
And so the years continued to pass.
The two of them dueled again and again.
Sometimes with swords.
Sometimes with spears.
Sometimes with their bare hands.
Each battle pushed them further.
Each clash sharpened their abilities.
Each defeat became fuel for improvement.
Sirzechs learned at a frightening pace.
His talent bordered on the absurd.
Techniques that took ordinary warriors decades to master could be understood by him within months.
But Scathach was hardly ordinary.
The woman known as the God Slayer possessed talent that could only be described as monstrous.
She improved alongside him.
Adapted alongside him.
Evolved alongside him.
Every time he closed the gap, she would take another step forward.
Every time he thought he had finally surpassed her, she would remind him why she was the ruler of the Land of Shadows.
Thus their rivalry continued.
A rivalry built upon mutual respect.
And Mutual affection.
After the creation of the Peerage System by Ajuka Beelzebub and the introduction of the Evil Pieces, the balance of power within the Underworld began to change.
For Sirzechs, however, the Peerage System represented more than a military innovation.
It was an opportunity to gather those he trusted most and turn them into something greater than comrades.
A family.
Naturally, there was one person he wished to bring into his Peerage above all others.
Scathach.
When he traveled to the Land of Shadows and explained the Peerage System to her.
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