Nitish straightened, his katana still crackling with the residual energy of his lightning element. He didn't have an answer that would satisfy her. He was not a hero, not a warrior or a chosen savior of any kind.
He was just Nitish—a boy who had been discarded by his own world, underestimated by those who wielded power, and cast into the shadows as if he were nothing. But now, in this moment, surrounded by the fallen bodies of the seven deadly sins, Nitish was something more. He was a force that refused to be ignored, a wild card that defied every expectation.
Wrath, blood dripping from the gash on his shoulder, fixed Nitish with a glare that could have melted steel. His fury had not waned; if anything, it had only grown hotter, fueled by the humiliation of being pushed back by a mere human. "You may have caught us off guard," Wrath snarled, his voice thick with rage, "but you will not leave this place alive."
Nitish met Wrath's gaze with a steady calm, the crackle of lightning around his katana the only sound that punctuated the tense silence. He knew he couldn't keep up this fight indefinitely. His strength, though bolstered by his high level, was not infinite. Every swing of his katana, every bolt of lightning, drained him a little more. He had to finish this—and fast.
Greed and Lust moved to flank him, their movements synchronized in a deadly ballet that aimed to box Nitish in, to corner him where he could no longer dodge or deflect their attacks. Greed's form shimmered with a molten glow, his liquid body twisting and stretching into shapes that defied the natural order. He lashed out with a whip of golden tendrils, aiming to ensnare Nitish and drain his power.
Nitish sidestepped, his form flickering as he employed the shadow step once more. He felt the tendrils of darkness curl around him, hiding him from sight for just a fraction of a second—a second long enough to reappear behind Greed. With a swift, decisive strike, Nitish brought his katana down on Greed's outstretched arm, severing the golden appendage with a burst of sparks. Greed howled, his liquid form recoiling and retracting as if scalded by the touch of Nitish's blade.
Lust lunged, her sword a gleaming arc of silver that aimed straight for Nitish's heart. But Nitish was faster. He ducked under her strike, his movements fluid and precise, and retaliated with a rapid upward slash that caught Lust across the chest. Her seductive aura faltered, her confident smirk twisting into a grimace of pain as she staggered back, clutching at the wound.
Wrath, seeing his comrades falter, roared and charged once more, his entire body engulfed in flames. Nitish met his charge head-on, their blades clashing with a thunderous impact that sent shockwaves through the throne room. Nitish's katana sparked with every strike, the lightning dancing along its edge as he parried Wrath's furious blows. He could feel the strain in his muscles, the burn of fatigue creeping in, but he refused to give an inch. He had come too far, fought too hard to be beaten back now.
With a sudden burst of speed, Nitish channeled the essence of Thunder Breathing once more, his movements becoming a blur of lightning and steel. He struck at Wrath's exposed flank, the blade sinking deep into the demon's fiery flesh. Wrath roared, his flames sputtering as he swung wildly, but Nitish was already gone, his form flickering in and out of the shadows.
The system dinged again, the familiar chime of a new notification cutting through the din of battle. Skill Advanced: Master Swordsmanship. The words filled Nitish with a renewed sense of purpose, his confidence bolstered by the knowledge that his skills were growing with every clash, every strike. He was no longer just mimicking moves he had seen in anime; he was mastering them, refining them into something uniquely his own.
Nitish's movements flowed like water, each step a calculated maneuver that put him one step ahead of his enemies. He ducked under Greed's sweeping tendrils, sidestepped Lust's desperate slashes, and met Wrath's unrelenting assault with a calm that bordered on serene. The katana felt weightless in his grip, an extension of his will that moved with the speed and precision of lightning.
He turned his focus to Lust, who was circling him like a predator eyeing its prey, her movements slow and deliberate. Nitish lunged, his katana arcing through the air with a flash of blue light. Lust raised her sword to parry, but Nitish was already a step ahead. He twisted his wrist, redirecting the katana's path mid-swing, and struck Lust's sword arm with the flat of the blade. The force of the blow sent her weapon clattering to the floor, and Nitish followed through with a sharp kick that sent her sprawling.
With Lust disarmed and sprawled at his feet, Nitish turned his attention back to Wrath, who was preparing for another charge. Wrath's eyes blazed with unbridled rage, the flames around his body surging higher as he gathered his strength for a final, desperate attack. Nitish could feel the heat from across the room, a searing wave of anger that threatened to engulf everything in its path.
But Nitish was ready. He raised his katana, channeling the full force of his lightning element into the blade. The weapon glowed with an intense, electric blue, the air around it crackling with energy. Wrath charged, his sword raised high, and Nitish met him head-on, their blades colliding in a blinding flash of light.
For a moment, it felt as though time had stopped. The throne room was bathed in the searing glow of their clash, the sheer force of their meeting sending tremors through the ground. Nitish pushed forward, every ounce of his strength focused into the point of contact between their swords. He could feel the resistance, the raw, unyielding power of Wrath's fury pressing against him, but he didn't falter. He let the lightning flow, let it surge through his katana and into Wrath's sword, the electric current leaping from metal to metal.
Wrath's flames flickered and sputtered, the intense heat of his anger clashing with the pure, unrestrained power of Nitish's lightning. Nitish gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he forced Wrath back, inch by inch. With a final, decisive push, Nitish drove his katana forward, piercing through Wrath's defenses and plunging the blade into the demon's chest.
Wrath's roar was cut short, his fiery aura extinguished in an instant. The demon staggered back, his sword slipping from his grasp as he clutched at the wound. Nitish yanked the katana free, stepping back as Wrath collapsed to his knees, his body convulsing as the last of his strength drained away.
The remaining demons, seeing their leaders fall one by one, began to retreat, their confidence shattered. Nitish watched them go, his chest heaving with exertion, his grip still tight on the katana. He had done it. He had faced the seven deadly sins and emerged victorious, his raw power and determination overcoming the odds stacked against him.
Nitish lowered his katana, the lightning fading from its blade as he took a moment to catch his breath. He glanced around the throne room, taking in the fallen forms of his enemies, the scorch marks and shattered stone that bore witness to the battle. He had fought not just with strength, but with the ingenuity and resourcefulness that had carried him through his previous life. It wasn't perfect, and it certainly wasn't graceful, but it was enough.
As the last of the demons fled the throne room, Nitish stood alone amidst the carnage, his heart still pounding with the adrenaline of the fight. He had come so far, survived so much, and yet this felt like only the beginning. He had tasted victory, felt the rush of power that came with defying the odds, and he knew he couldn't stop now. There was still so much more to do, so many battles left to fight, and he was just getting started.
Nitish sheathed his katana, his mind already turning to the next step, the next challenge. He would hone his skills, refine his techniques, and continue to push the boundaries of his abilities. He was not just a boy wielding the powers of a Primordial Bloodline—he was a force to be reckoned with, a rising storm that would not be silenced.
As he walked toward the exit of the throne room, the shadows parted before him, the path ahead illuminated by the flickering glow of lightning that still danced at his fingertips. Nitish didn't look back at the fallen sins or the demons that had fled in fear. His focus was on the horizon, on the countless possibilities that lay beyond the confines of this dark, twisted realm.
With every step, Nitish felt the weight of his victories and the promise of more to come. He had defied gods and monsters alike, and he would continue to carve his own path, no matter the cost. The world had tried to cast him aside, to bury him in the shadows of its expectations, but Nitish had risen above it all. And now, armed with the power of creation and the fury of the storm, he would become the architect of his own destiny.
Nitish stepped into the light, ready to face whatever came next, his katana humming with the promise of thunder and the certainty of a future forged in defiance.