If you really stop and think about it, truly think about it without romanticizing strategy or overcomplicating things, finding the top boss of a place like this isn't complicated at all.

  You don't need intelligence networks whispering secrets into your ear.

  You don't need spies slipping through shadows or informants trading lives for information.

  You don't need interrogation rooms soaked in blood, or elaborate traps designed by people who think complexity equals intelligence.

  In the supernatural world, hierarchy is brutally honest.

  Cruelly simple.

  The strongest one is almost always the one at the top.

  Power doesn't hide behind titles here.

  It announces itself through survival.

  This means that the fastest and most reliable way to identify the leader is equally simple.

  Impale everyone.

  Not metaphorically.

  Literally.

  Whoever resists the longest—

  Whoever screams the least—

  Whoever doesn't immediately collapse, beg, or break—

  That one is your boss.

  Efficient.

  Direct.

  Almost elegant, in its own horrifying way.

  And given recent events, I had… experience.

  More than I ever expected to gain, honestly.

  As that realization settled in, I felt it again—that overwhelming sense of control flooding through every inch of my existence, like the universe itself had quietly handed me the steering wheel and stepped aside.

  Was it because I was fused with Mega Giratina?

  Or was it because this was my second fusion?

  Last time, the power hadn't been unpleasant.

  It hadn't been unstable or chaotic either.

  But the fine control—the precise modulation of output, distortion, gravity, pressure—that had largely been Giratina's domain.

  She filtered it.

  She restrained it.

  She kept the infinity from tearing me apart.

  Now?

  She was still doing that… but I could feel it.

  I wasn't just riding along anymore.

  I was holding the reins.

  Actively.

  Confidently.

  Instinctively.

  Oh. Right.

  I hadn't said it outright yet.

  I was fused with Mega Giratina now.

  Trying to describe how it feels borders on impossible.

  Imagine believing you've reached the pinnacle of existence—

  Only to realize that what you thought was the summit was just the tutorial area.

  Not the mountain.

  Not even the foothills.

  Just the introduction screen.

  I don't have a comparison to make, so it's even harder to explain.

  I didn't grow into this power.

  I didn't earn it through centuries of cultivation or enlightenment.

  I was dropped into it.

  One moment, I was human.

  The next moment… I was something that made concepts like "distance," "force," and "hierarchy" feel optional.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  It's like being handed infinity without instructions, warnings, or a safety manual—and being expected to just… function.

  And yes, I can already hear the imaginary complaints echoing from whatever invisible audience thinks they're entitled to commentary.

  "Zevion, why are you monologuing? Doesn't your fusion have a time limit?!"

  Yes.

  It does.

  But my thoughts are moving so fast right now that the world might as well be frozen in amber.

  Entire conversations could unfold in my head while a single second barely twitches forward.

  So relax.

  This internal monologue is costing me less than a blink.

  Anyway.

  I was bored.

  So—

  Let's find Azazel.

  I didn't raise my hand dramatically.

  I didn't chant an incantation.

  I didn't announce my intentions like a stage performer craving applause.

  The entire Grigori stronghold was simply… consumed.

  Ink-black darkness poured outward from me like a living ocean, flooding towers, walkways, barracks, armories—everything—until the fortress looked like it was drowning in night itself.

  The light died.

  Sound warped.

  And then the spikes came.

  Gigantic, jagged pillars of distortion erupted upward from every surface as if reality itself had decided to grow teeth.

  They impaled fallen angels indiscriminately.

  Wings were pierced and pinned mid-flap.

  Legs skewered, leaving bodies hanging like grotesque banners.

  Arms nailed to walls.

  Spines crushed just enough to paralyze, not enough to kill.

  Never enough to kill.

  That part was important.

  Just enough to leave them screaming.

  Suspended.

  Helpless.

  Like insects trapped inside a divine display case.

  It didn't look like a battlefield anymore.

  It looked like a punishment myth carved directly into existence.

  A god's judgment etched in agony.

  Except—

  The god was me.

  I let my perception drift lazily through the chaos.

  Most of them broke instantly.

  Some resisted for a few seconds.

  A few managed to endure longer, their willpower burning bright even as their bodies failed.

  And then—

  There.

  One presence.

  Still pushing back.

  Still standing upright, even as distortion gnawed at him from every angle.

  His resistance was futile.

  But compared to the rest?

  Impressive.

  Found you.

  I stepped forward—

  And space folded.

  Not teleportation.

  Not movement.

  I compressed distance itself, forcing "here" and "there" to overlap until the concept of travel became irrelevant.

  Like that absurdly cool shunpo technique from Overgeared—except this time, I did it instinctively, on the first try.

  Honestly, being fused with Mega Giratina—the literal Lord of Distortion—makes copying fantasy techniques almost embarrassingly easy.

  It hits differently than just reading about them.

  Much more satisfying.

  I stood in front of him.

  Black wings torn and twitching.

  Armor is cracked and barely holding together.

  Blood pooling beneath him.

  Yet his eyes still burned with defiance, sharp and furious behind pain-glazed pupils.

  So this was him.

  Azazel.

  According to Serafall, the leader of the Fallen Angels.

  The final boss of this particular mess.

  Honestly?

  He didn't look that special.

  "So," I said calmly, tilting my head as if inspecting an item in a shop, "you're Azazel?"

  He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth, but forced the words out anyway.

  "Yes… I am Azazel—"

  I smashed his head into the ground.

  The impact obliterated the stone beneath us, carving a crater outward as a shockwave rippled through the fortress.

  He didn't finish the sentence.

  I placed my foot on the back of his head and applied pressure.

  Slowly.

  Deliberately.

  "Well, Azazel," I said, my tone conversational, almost bored, "I'm not interested in whatever political schemes or long-term strategiesor any mind games you may or may not have planned or planning."

  The pressure increased.

  Bone cracked.

  Audibly.

  "Here are my demands."

  I leaned down slightly.

  "I want remuneration for mental damage."

  Crunch.

  "For the loss of water molecules expended on tears."

  Crunch.

  "For the energy wasted dealing with your subordinate's mess."

  Crunch.

  "For the loss of my vacation time."

  Crunch.

  "And most importantly—"

  I pressed way harder.

  "—for the near loss of my loved ones at the hands of a member of your faction."

  My voice dropped.

  Cold.

  Sharp.

  Hostile.

  Azazel's body trembled as more sickening sounds echoed from within him, but I felt nothing about it.

  No satisfaction.

  No disgust.

  Just necessity.

  "My demand is simple," I continued. "I will take one thousand trillion yen."

  I eased the pressure slightly.

  "Not a single yen less."

  Can't have him too damaged to speak.

  That would be inconvenient.

  "I'll even be generous," I added. "If you don't have enough liquid assets, I'll accept payment in materials."

  He struggled, trying to lift his head.

  I stepped harder.

  "Did I give you permission to move?"

  I asked mildly.

  "Don't make this harder than it already is. I still have unfinished business elsewhere, so let's be efficient."

  Time felt… strange.

  With my mind operating at this speed, every interaction stretched unbearably long.

  Is this how gods feel when they speak to mortals?

  If so—

  That's a special kind of torture.

  Thankfully, I can adjust my mental speed at will.

  Even then, it still felt like waiting through eternity.

  Finally, his voice came out, weak and fractured.

  "We… we don't have… cough …that much… We can only pay around… one hundred ten trillion yen…"

  I paused.

  Let me check.

  I scanned everything.

  Resources.

  Vaults.

  Artifacts.

  Infrastructure.

  Less than thirty trillion in immediately valuable assets.

  Even being generous, maybe eighty or ninety trillion total.

  …Huh.

  Right.

  Being fused with Giratina doesn't make me omniscient.

  He's the Lord of Distortion and Antimatter, not Knowledge.

  I can't know what I don't know.

  But I can tell when someone's lying.

  And he wasn't.

  I nodded.

  "Well," I said, "that's fine."

  His body stiffened.

  "You'll make up the difference with labor."

  He froze.

  "What—?"

  I stepped on him again.

  "Did you forget I can erase your entire race?"

  I asked casually.

  "Relax. I'm not a villain."

  I healed him slightly, tossing a Max Potion onto his body and letting the damage rewind just enough to keep him functional.

  "You'll work for me for one or two centuries," I continued.

  "In return, I'll provide protection. Most of your civilians and innocents are already under my care."

  I tapped my foot against his back.

  "Adults—about ninety percent—will mine resources for me. Children can keep learning. Society can continue as it is. If performance is good, the time can be reduced."

  I stepped back.

  "Now gather everyone—actually, forget it."

  I waved my hand.

  "I'll teleport all of you myself. First, collect every resource you currently possess. I'll take it, then relocate you to your new home."

  I turned away.

  "Oh," I added over my shoulder, "don't bother planning retaliation. If you do well, I guarantee no one else will be harmed."

  I paused.

  "I'll be back soon."

  Then space folded—

  And I was gone.

  Back to Kuoh.

  Back home.

  With plans still unfolding, and a world only beginning to understand the cost of standing in my way.