Halochassis

A storm of conflicting emotions surged through Shin the moment he saw Qinglong standing beyond the outer gates of Saint Marian Academy. Relief washed over him because the elusive warrior had finally appeared. Happiness followed close behind, fueled by the certainty that his search was over. Yet beneath those emotions lurked a far darker feeling—rage. It simmered in his chest like molten metal, threatening to erupt at any moment. 

Memories of humiliation, suffering, and unfinished vengeance flashed through his mind. After everything that had happened, fate had delivered Qinglong directly before him. This was the opportunity Shin had been waiting for. The opportunity to settle the score once and for all.

“Is this... a Halochassis?” Qinglong muttered in surprise.

The warrior planted his feet firmly on the ground and thrust his spear forward with considerable force. The sharpened tip slammed against Azazel’s mechanical arm, producing a metallic clang that echoed across the battlefield. Sparks burst from the point of impact, but the weapon failed to advance even an inch. 

Azazel’s reinforced arm remained perfectly still, as immovable as a fortress wall. At the same time, the crimson energy shield surrounding the machine shimmered with layers of protective energy, absorbing the pressure without showing any signs of collapse.

Qinglong’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Before he could react further, Shin seized the opening. Azazel twisted its arm outward and violently knocked the spear aside. Metal scraped against metal, producing a shrill screech that cut through the air. The moment the weapon was diverted, Shin activated his energy sword. A crimson blade extended from the hilt with a sharp humming sound, bathing the battlefield in scarlet light. Without hesitation, he swung.

The attack sliced through the air with terrifying speed.

Qinglong’s instincts saved him. He immediately leaped backward, his body moving like a gust of wind. Even so, he was a fraction of a second too slow. The edge of the energy blade grazed his face before he could fully evade. A thin red line appeared across his cheek, followed by a trail of blood that slowly trickled down his skin.

“Heh. You’re good.”

Rather than looking angered, Qinglong wore an amused grin. He raised a hand and brushed his fingers across the wound before glancing at the blood staining them. His smile widened as though he had just discovered a worthy opponent instead of suffering an injury.

Several meters behind Azazel, Croft witnessed the entire exchange.

The sudden clash between the two monsters of the battlefield created the perfect opportunity for her escape. Her heart pounded wildly as she took a cautious step backward. For a brief moment, Azazel’s glowing crimson eyes shifted toward her. The mechanical giant could have easily intercepted her. He could have grabbed her, and killed her.

Instead, he did nothing.

Croft hesitated for only a heartbeat before turning and fleeing toward the forested slope below the academy grounds.

As she descended through the trees, branches scraping against her clothes and leaves crunching beneath her boots, confusion filled her mind.

“Why...” she whispered breathlessly. “Why did Azazel save me?”

The question refused to leave her thoughts.

“He had the perfect chance to attack Qinglong while protecting me. Shielding me wasn’t necessary... It felt intentional.”

The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. Azazel was supposed to be a ruthless enemy. Yet his actions suggested something else entirely.

Still, survival took priority over curiosity.

Croft knew remaining anywhere near that battlefield would be suicide. The shockwaves from their attacks alone could kill her. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a crystalline shard glowing with pale blue light. Magical energy flowed through its surface like liquid lightning.

Without another moment of hesitation, she crushed the teleportation crystal.

A brilliant flash engulfed her body.

Then she vanished.

Silence briefly settled over the battlefield.

The bandits were gone.

The students were gone.

No Celestial Wardens remained nearby.

No Halochassis stood ready to interfere.

Only two warriors remained beneath the open sky.

Shin/Azazel.

And Qinglong.

A cool breeze swept across the ruined landscape, carrying dust and the scent of scorched earth between them.

“I heard you’re the first one who managed to wound the Untouchable Windwalker,” Qinglong said.

He lowered his stance and pointed his spear directly at Azazel. The weapon gleamed beneath the sunlight while streams of green ki slowly flowed around its shaft like living mist.

“Let’s see how good you really are!”

Azazel’s mechanical roller skates deployed from beneath its armored feet with a series of metallic clicks. Engines immediately roared to life. Crimson exhaust erupted behind him as the propulsion system accelerated.

The ground cracked beneath Azazel’s feet.

Then he vanished forward.

A sonic boom exploded behind him.

Within an instant, Shin closed the distance and unleashed a barrage of sword strikes. The crimson energy blade carved luminous arcs through the air, each slash aimed at a vital point.

Yet Qinglong proved why he was feared.

His spear became a blur.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Every strike was intercepted with flawless precision. Sparks scattered like fireworks as blade and spear repeatedly collided. The shockwaves generated by their exchanges kicked up clouds of dust and sent loose debris tumbling across the battlefield.

Qinglong retaliated immediately.

His spear thrust forward with explosive speed, targeting Azazel’s torso.

The crimson energy shield intercepted the attack.

A deep boom echoed outward.

Another thrust followed.

Then another.

Each impact caused ripples to spread across the shield’s surface, but the barrier held firm.

Realizing conventional attacks would not suffice, Qinglong abruptly jumped into the sky.

The air swirled violently around him.

High above the battlefield, he gathered vast amounts of green ki into his spear. Energy spiraled around the weapon like a raging cyclone. The surrounding winds intensified, bending nearby trees and scattering leaves into the sky.

Then the spear transformed.

The spearhead elongated into the shape of a majestic emerald dragon. Glowing scales formed from pure energy, and its luminous eyes burned with ancient power.

“Shenlong Drive!”

Qinglong’s voice thundered across the battlefield.

At that exact moment, the clouds overhead split apart.

It was as though the heavens themselves were making way for the attack.

The enormous dragon roared and surged downward. The dragon’s jaws opened wide as it raced toward Azazel, carrying enough power to obliterate everything in its path.

But Shin remained calm.

Inside Azazel’s cockpit, his eyes narrowed.

“Force Accel.”

The command left his lips as little more than a whisper.

Immediately, Azazel’s magical systems responded.

Time appeared to slow.

The dragon’s charge became sluggish.

Dust particles floated through the air like drifting snow.

Even the sound of the raging winds stretched into a low, distorted hum.

Within that accelerated perception, Shin moved.

Azazel exploded forward.

The machine accelerated so quickly that dozens of crimson afterimages were left behind. They scattered across the battlefield like ghosts, making it impossible to determine his true position.

A fraction of a second later, the dragon lance struck. But it struck nothing.

The attack smashed directly into the ground. The impact was catastrophic.

An explosion of wind and energy erupted outward. The earth collapsed beneath the point of contact, creating a massive crater. Rocks shattered into fragments, trees were uprooted, and a wall of dust surged across the battlefield like a tidal wave.

Qinglong stared at the devastation below.

His eyes widened.

“What the—”

For the first time since the battle began, genuine disbelief appeared on his face.

“Was I aiming at his afterimage?”

Without giving Qinglong a moment to recover, Azazel deployed the mechanical wings mounted on his back. The crimson constructs unfolded with a metallic hiss, scattering sparks of red energy into the air. A powerful burst of propulsion erupted behind him, and he shot upward into the sky like a crimson comet. Wind screamed past his armored frame as he ascended above the battlefield, overlooking the shattered terrain littered with craters from their previous exchanges.

From above, Shin locked onto his target.

Azazel raised his mechanical arm and aimed the wrist-mounted grappling launcher. A sharp metallic click echoed. Then the hook fired.

The cable tore through the air with a piercing whistle and wrapped itself around Qinglong’s left leg before he could fully react. The moment it connected, the grappling mechanism activated. Gears roared inside Azazel’s arm as the cable reeled inward with tremendous force.

Using both the grappling hook’s pull and the momentum of his aerial charge, Azazel became a living projectile.

Qinglong barely had enough time to widen his eyes before a steel fist slammed directly into his face.

BOOM!

The impact sent a shockwave rippling across the battlefield.

Blood exploded from Qinglong’s mouth as his body spun violently through the air. He crashed into the mountainside below, pulverizing stone and earth upon impact. The mountain trembled as another crater formed, rocks tumbling down the slopes in a cloud of dust and debris.

For a brief moment, silence followed.

Then laughter emerged from the crater.

“Hehe... Hahaha!”

Qinglong climbed out from the rubble, wiping blood from the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. Dust covered his clothes and fragments of broken stone rolled off his shoulders, yet his grin remained as wide as ever.

“That’s a good one!”

Shin frowned inside the cockpit. The damage had been real. He had seen the blood. He had felt the force behind the strike.

Yet as Qinglong stood there, the injuries were already disappearing.

The cut on his cheek from the energy sword had completely vanished. Even the bruising from the punch seemed to be fading before Shin’s eyes. Muscles, skin, and flesh regenerated at an absurd rate, as though his body rejected the concept of injury itself.

“So that’s how it is...” Shin muttered.

Without wasting time, Azazel spread his crimson wings to their full span. Energy surged through thousands of channels woven into the constructs. The sky behind him glowed blood-red.

Then the attack began.

Thousands of crimson energy arrows materialized around Azazel like a swarm of glowing stars. Each projectile hummed with destructive power, illuminating the battlefield with scarlet light.

With a sweep of his arm, Shin unleashed them.

The arrows descended like a meteor shower.

The air filled with shrieking sounds as countless projectiles rained toward Qinglong from every direction.

Qinglong immediately sprinted across the battlefield.

His feet blurred against the ground as he zigzagged between impacts. Explosions erupted around him. Earth was torn apart. Stone shattered. Entire sections of the mountainside collapsed beneath the relentless bombardment.

Despite his speed, not every arrow missed.

One grazed his shoulder. Another sliced his forearm. Several struck his legs. One carved across his stomach. Another nicked his cheek.

Thin streams of blood appeared across his body as wounds accumulated faster than before.

Yet Qinglong continued moving.

At last, his spear landed nearby after being knocked away earlier.

Qinglong seized it.

The instant his fingers touched the weapon, green ki erupted around him.

He spun the lance at incredible speed. The weapon became a circular blur.

A dome of swirling ki formed around him, resembling a massive emerald umbrella. The spinning energy generated violent gusts that deflected the incoming arrows. Crimson projectiles shattered against the barrier or were sent ricocheting harmlessly into the distance.

Above him, Shin carefully observed.

His eyes tracked every wound.

Every regeneration. Every second. Then he noticed the pattern. The injuries weren’t healing instantly. They were healing after approximately five seconds.

Five seconds.

That was the opening.

A narrow window, but a window nonetheless.

“If I can overwhelm him before the regeneration completes...” Shin whispered.

Determination burned in his eyes.

“I can do it.”

His hand tightened around the controls.

“Double Accel.”

The command echoed through Azazel’s magical systems.

Immediately, warning symbols flashed across the cockpit as enormous amounts of energy were diverted into the propulsion engines. Crimson light flooded every circuit.

The wings roared. Azazel vanished.

The air behind him exploded. A sonic boom shook the mountains.

The Halochassis descended from the heavens at a speed that distorted the surrounding atmosphere. Flames and crimson energy trailed behind him as he transformed into a devastating missile.

Qinglong sensed the attack at the last possible moment.

He threw himself sideways.

Azazel struck the ground.

The impact resembled a meteor collision. The mountain erupted beneath him.

Stone fragmented into thousands of pieces. A colossal crater formed instantly, sending shockwaves through the surrounding landscape. Dust clouds surged into the sky, briefly obscuring everything from view.

But Qinglong had survived.

Barely.

Using the momentum of his evasive maneuver, he counterattacked immediately.

His spear erupted into motion. One thrust became ten. Ten became a hundred. Hundreds became thousands.

The weapon blurred so quickly that countless afterimages filled the battlefield. It looked as though an entire army of spears was attacking simultaneously.

The barrage slammed into Azazel from every angle.

Head. Shoulders. Chest. Arms. Legs.

A storm of impacts erupted against the Halochassis.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!

Metallic explosions rang continuously as sparks scattered in every direction.

Yet Shin remained unharmed. The Hybrid Armor absorbed every strike. The spear could not penetrate. The realization slowly appeared in Qinglong’s eyes. For the first time, his assault lacked confidence.

“DIE!” Azazel roared.

The crimson energy sword carved across Qinglong’s chest. The blade sliced through flesh and armor alike. Blood erupted outward, splattering across Azazel’s metallic frame and staining the battlefield crimson.

Yet Qinglong smiled.

Even while bleeding. Even while wounded.

He thrust his lance directly into Azazel’s chest.

The attack struck with enough force to pulverize boulders.

The lance bounced off harmlessly.

Qinglong’s smile faltered.

Azazel immediately retaliated. A massive magnum emerged from a hidden compartment in his arm.

BANG!

The gunshot thundered across the mountains.

The muzzle flash illuminated everything for an instant. Qinglong twisted his body at the last possible moment. Instead of his chest, the round struck his shoulder.

Blood exploded outward.

Fragments of armor and flesh were torn away by the devastating impact.

Still, Qinglong adapted.

Planting both hands onto the magnum, he executed an acrobatic handstand. Using the weapon as a pivot point, he kicked off and attempted to launch himself away from Azazel.

But he never escaped.

A mechanical hand seized his ankle.

The battlefield froze.

Qinglong looked down. Then up.

Then directly into Azazel’s glowing crimson eyes.

For the first time since the battle began, genuine panic appeared on his face.

“What the hell are you!?”

Azazel answered with violence. He swung Qinglong downward. The warrior slammed into the earth with catastrophic force.

BOOM!

The ground collapsed. A deeper crater formed beneath them. Before Qinglong could recover, Azazel stomped on the arm holding the lance.

Crunch.

The sound of breaking bones echoed through the crater.

Qinglong grimaced. His grip loosened. Then the punches began. One fist crashed into his face.

Another followed.

Then another.

And another.

Each strike generated explosive shockwaves that blasted dust and debris outward from the crater. Blood splattered across the shattered stone. Teeth flew through the air. The earth trembled repeatedly under the relentless assault.

Azazel’s fists rose and fell like hammers.

Hatred. Humiliation. Pain. Loss.

Every emotion Shin had suppressed exploded through those punches.

“Die!”

CRASH!

“Die!”

CRASH!

“Die!”

CRASH!

“Die!”

CRASH!

“Die!”

The mountains echoed with his fury as crimson eyes burned through the dust-filled air, and the crater beneath them grew deeper with every devastating blow.

Even after taking multiple devastating punches, Qinglong still wore that eerie smile, as if pain itself was something he welcomed rather than feared. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth and down his chin, dripping onto the shattered stone below, yet his expression never truly broke. His face was swollen and distorted from the relentless blows, his nose bent, his lips split, but the grin stayed clinging to him like a curse. 

Pain had always been his closest companion. He had longed for this kind of battle, the kind that stripped away all hesitation and left only the raw, honest language of violence. He craved blood, whether it came from an enemy or from his own body, and that hunger kept his spirit burning even as his physical form was torn apart.

When Qinglong’s strength finally gave out and his fingers loosened around the lance, Azazel ripped the weapon free with brutal force. The metal scraped against bone and armor as it was pulled clear, and in the next instant Azazel drove the spear straight into Qinglong’s chest. 

A wet, sickening sound followed as the point pierced through flesh and buried itself deep into his body. Qinglong coughed violently, then vomited a spray of blood as his lungs and heart were torn open by the impact. Before he could even sag fully, Azazel let out a roaring cry and punched the spearhead again, forcing it deeper, grinding it further into Qinglong’s shattered ribcage. The force of the blow sent tremors through the crater, and the air filled with the sharp, coppery scent of blood. Chunks of flesh, shattered bone, and dark red sprays splattered across the broken ground around them.

For a moment, Qinglong’s eyes dulled, the life in them flickering out as his body went still. He was no longer breathing. His chest no longer rose. His lungs had been crushed beyond function, and his body looked like it had finally crossed the line between endurance and death. 

Satisfied, Shin made Azazel take a few steps back. The hulking machine turned away, its glowing crimson eyes fading from Qinglong as if the battle had ended at last. Shin began to walk off, already preparing to rendezvous with the other Iron Bandits, when a voice cut through the silence behind him.

“I didn’t hear no bell.”

Shin froze.

Qinglong was standing again, supported by his own lance, his body drenched in blood from head to toe. The sight was almost unnatural. His chest was ruined, his clothes soaked through, and his limbs trembled under the weight of his own injuries—but even then, the wounds were already knitting back together at a frightening pace. Torn flesh reformed. Broken bone realigned. Blood still streamed from him, but the damage was disappearing far faster than before, as though death itself had been forced to take a step back. 

And Qinglong, breathing through the pain with that same wild, blood-drunk smile, looked ready to continue.