MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 871: Influence

Mitchelle smiled faintly as she gazed down at the injured Angel, her expression calm, almost serene. She said nothing. There was no need to. She genuinely enjoyed opponents like this, beings who fought magic with magic, spell against spell, energy against energy.

Mitchelle was, above all else, a lover of magic.

She loved magic almost as deeply as Michael loved the sword. Anyone capable of wielding magic at a certain level naturally earned a sliver of respect in her eyes. Not admiration, not reverence, simply acknowledgment. To her, magic was not merely a tool for destruction; it was an art, a discipline, and a philosophy all its own.

Although she loved Vega dearly, Mitchelle knew that Vega was not a true magician in the strictest sense. Vega did not cast magic, she willed it. There was a vast difference.

Magic possessed theory, structure, and law. There were calculations behind every spell, frameworks that determined how mana flowed, how energy bent, how reality responded. There were rules to exploit, equations to perfect, and countless ways to construct and deconstruct a single spell.

Mitchelle adored every aspect of it.

But she could never truly discuss magic at this level with Vega. Vega’s innate ability allowed her to use any form of magic simply by thinking about it and supplying mana. If Vega desired a fireball, one would appear instantly, without incantation, structure, or understanding.

There was a fascination in that but no exploration.

Still, Mitchelle did not confuse appreciation with respect. She was not honoring her opponent. Not even close. She merely found the fact that the Angel relied on magic... pleasant.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

[Divine Magic: Holy Star of Apocalypse]

The Angel intoned the spell, intent on retaliation, on returning the pain and injury Mitchelle had just inflicted upon it. In an instant, suffocating pressure flooded the void. Faith energy exploded outward from the Angel’s body, and the surrounding space trembled violently.

Then, above the Angel, a massive golden star began to form.

Its radiance eclipsed that of any ordinary star. The pressure it exuded was overwhelming, its accumulated energy vast enough to crush worlds into dust. Reality itself seemed to recoil beneath its presence.

Without hesitation, the Angel released it.

The Holy Star erupted outward, and with it came a heaven-blotting explosion. A cosmic, reality-rending burst tore through the void as the galaxy was drowned in golden-white radiance. An apocalypse unfolded in an instant, solar systems were engulfed, stars ruptured, planets disintegrated, suns collapsed, and moons were reduced to drifting debris under the concussive force.

Only the colour, gold and white existed.

A haze of cosmic smoke filled the void as space itself shattered like fragile glass, struggling desperately to reattach and mend itself. The laws of space seemed to sigh under the strain, unable to count how many times they had been forced to repair the tears ripping through existence.

As the haze slowly cleared, the Angel’s golden eyes glowed brightly as it searched for its opponent.

But when its gaze pierced through the smoke,

There was nothing. No body. No blood. Not even lingering energy. Absolutely nothing.

For a fleeting moment, the Angel wondered if its Holy Star of Apocalypse spell had completely erased Mitchelle from existence. Then space peeled open beside it like the skin of an onion.

The Angel’s head snapped toward the disturbance, but all that filled its vision was a blazing foot, growing larger with each passing split second.

The impact was titanic.

Mitchelle’s foot slammed into the Angel’s jaws with planetary force. A thunderous boom erupted as the Angel’s body was hurled sideways like a ragdoll, inertia seizing control of its form.

With a cataclysmic impact, the Angel crashed into a nearby star. The star cracked under the collision.

Golden blood burst from the Angel’s mouth, evaporating almost instantly. Teeth were scattered into the void, yet even as they vanished, new ones began to grow in their place.

The Angel’s senses twisted violently, consciousness slipping as confusion flooded its mind, this was supposed to be a battle of magic. A clash of spells.

So why, why had this lower being suddenly resorted to physical combat?

Before the Angel could even begin to rise, Mitchelle extended her will. Star energy surrounding the cracked celestial body bent obediently to her command. She seized control of it, forcefully guiding the astral energy into the Angel’s body through its open wounds.

The Angel stiffened in shock.

It attempted to purge the invading energy with faith power, desperately forcing divine energy through its system, but before it could succeed, a calm female voice echoed through the void.

”Explode.”

Instantly, the star energy detonated inside the Angel’s body.

Chaotic force ruptured its internal organs as golden blood poured from its mouth in violent torrents. The Angel screamed, completely caught off guard by Mitchelle’s sudden manipulation of star energy.

Indeed, Mitchelle could control star energy.

Not only her, every Planetary level existence within the Acarnis Galaxy possessed a limited ability to manipulate astral and constellation energy. The extent varied, but it was there. Had that control not been restricted, Mitchelle could have killed her opponent outright with that single attack.

Before the Angel could even recover, Mitchelle’s voice rang out once more. Her Aetheris Codex had already flipped to another page.

[Flame Magic: Heaven’s Barrage]

The air twisted violently as heat skyrocketed. Space shimmered and distorted as millions of blazing fireballs erupted into existence around Mitchelle. Each was massive, no different from a comet in size, swirling with infernal intensity.

Without hesitation, she willed them forward.

The Angel gritted its teeth, forcing its battered body to move through the pain. In a golden blur, it shot sideways, zigzagging desperately as colossal fireballs detonated around it. Each explosion slammed into its form with devastating force.

But Mitchelle did not stop, she pressed her advantage.

She vanished in a blink, teleporting instantly, she reappeared directly before the Angel. Flame energy twisted and condensed in her hand, forming a blazing blade. Without hesitation, she slashed.

The Angel, injured, battered, and overwhelmed, could neither dodge nor cast a spell in time. Its head was severed with ridiculous ease..The body drifted lifelessly through the void.

Mitchelle exhaled slowly.

She had spent decades alongside Michael. It was only natural that she had picked up a thing or two about physical combat. That was the reason behind her sudden kick to the Angel’s jaw, and the flame-forged sword now dissipating from her hand.

She was a mage, but her husband, the Sword Saint, had influenced her nonetheless.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Super gift?