His arms were quivering, but he still stood in front of Maia, holding his sword.
"I won't let you... lay a finger on her!"
"That's a big statement, can you back it up?"
Fuola's expression became darker. His entire body tensed up as he braced himself to use every last bit of his strength. Pointing his sword at the Second Progenitor, he gathered everything he had.
"Invoke... Magic Armour—Type Zero!"
Aura burst out from his body, layering himself in a bright white barrier.
In return, the Progenitor raised his sword.
"Drink my blood, Beelzebub."
Fuola felt what could only be described as the darkest despair in the world. A pure black aura circulated around the Progenitor's elegant blade. Faced against the peril that was the completely overwhelming strength of the Progenitor, he could only watch in horror.
Step by step, the Progenitor walked forwards. Emanating an immense crushing pressure, he made his way closer to Fuola.
