Chapter 347: Awakening the Berserker

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"W-wait...is that Typhir?" Aeon muttered, focusing his sights on a familiar-looking person. Although his physique was larger and the air around him was menacing, there wasn't much of a change towards his features, enabling Aeon to recognize him with a glance.

Vellaria's eyes widened at the mention of Typhir's name. Since he entered the Vermillion Night Academy, he had become a ghost, never once reaching out to them. While the others thought nothing of it, the same couldn't be said for Vellaria.

Unlike the rest, she was plagued by an innate soft-heartedness. This was part of the reason Apollo targeted her in the past, sensing the conflicted emotions inside her mind. Those same feelings appeared once again, trembling as she laid eyes upon Typhir.

Meanwhile, Typhir was close to emotionless as he gazed towards them. Similar to how he loathed Grayson and Reiner, the Glories occupied the same position in his heart. Besides Vellaria, who consoled him in the shadows, most of the Glories treated him no better than an oaf, belittling his intelligence.

Although he never voiced his discontent, it drove a wedge in their relationship. In fact, upon their first meeting, Typhir had connected more with Apollo than any of the other Glories in their lifetime of interactions. 

Hence, why it was so easy for the system to establish absolute authority without damaging his mind in the slightest.

"It seems they recognize you," Apollo said, glimpsing towards Typhir. Apollo could sense the resentment emanating from Typhir's Tainted Temple and it made him ecstatic—Typhir's demeanor was distancing itself from humanity!

"I just hope they recognize the unfamiliarity of death. After all, that snake Lazaro is responsible for many wrongful deaths," Typhir responded, withdrawing the greatsword from his back soon after. His Destruction Intent began leaking as well.

Although his identity as a Demon destroyed his chances of contracting with a Spirit, the power he gained in exchange for this sacrifice was more than sufficient. It was comparable to assimilating with a Spirit, reaching a vessel not far from that state. 

"Good answer," Apollo chuckled. "Now go."

With a nod, Typhir performed an explosive jump, accelerating towards the Glories up above. Based on his momentum, he seemed unstoppable and intent on their destruction. Twirling the greatsword around, wisps of Demonic Anima were conjured, which created a dismal atmosphere.

However, Demons thrived in this setting.

Furthermore, Fuhrer lifted his palm, deluging the area on Ira and Superbia to give Typhir some assistance. After all, Typhir wasn't just up against the Glories, there were also their contracted Spirits present as well.

Judging from their aura, they were quite strong. 

'It must have been quite taxing to form contracts with these spirits. They seem to be on par with Xezym in potential. However, I truly await his transformation after escaping those doors,' Apollo thought. Afterward, he watched the ensuing battle closely.

Although he could end it quickly, it would be no fun to instantly overwhelm them. This was a sensation he sought to savor, slowly devouring their hope, morsel by morsel.

Within moments, Typhir was upon them. Since Apollo had marked Lazaro as his target, Typhir's first target was Aeon, the one who seemed amiable yet possessed a conniving heart, orchestrating many of their distasteful plans.

Aeon's eyes narrowed, retrieving his longsword to receive Typhir's attack. The moment they met, his eyes widened, utterly astonished by the overbearing weight behind Typhir's strike. 

'M-my god… when did he get this strong?!'

While Aeon wasn't launched back or anything, his arms ached from receiving the strike. Only after strengthening his arms with Natural Essence did the pain subside. Straightaway, he retaliated with an attack of his one, performing a rapid downward.

Yet, Typhir merely swatted the slash away with an upward stroke, "You've trained your schemes yet have neglected your body."

Bang!

Typhir delivered another powerful swing, yet this time it was horizontal, causing Aeon to slide back a few steps. Despite his disheveled appearance, Aeon still shot Typhir a venomous gaze.

"Don't give me that condescending talk as if you've surpassed us all. Among the Glories, your potential is amid the lowest spectrum," Aeon spat, a swirl of silver energy spinning around his sword and body. It continued to swirl until it formed an extra metallic surface on his weapon.

As for his body, armor made of that energy appeared, gradually covering his body up to his neck. The armor solidified in a few seconds, appearing close to a metal alloy. However, Typhir was aware of this ability already; it was similar to his Heavenly Bronze Body inheritance.

But, Aeon's family technique was known as the Adamantine Warrior Armor. Not only did it increase his defenses, but it sharpened all of the Metal Essence he utilized, honing some of its speed in the process.

Nevertheless, Typhir didn't even flinch at this sight. He glanced skyward, perceiving the Sin Fuhrer had laced into the atmosphere. Drawing upon it, Typhir drewthe Sin towards his sword.

Different from regular weapons, the one Fuhrer gave him was capable of channeling Sin Energy. In other words, it was a true instrument of the Demons. Any weapon Apollo tried this with shattered, unable to contain the virility of Sin Energy.

The greatsword in his hand gleamed with a crimson-gold hue whilst emanating a near-black aura. Since Aeon had pulled out all the stops, so did Typhir. Although Typhir's aura eclipsed Aeon, he still kept up his guard, watching his surroundings always.

After all, he was familiar with Aeon's battle strategy. His favorite stratagem was a pincer formation. Not to mention, Lazaro and Claire always obliged to help. If they interfered in this battle, then there was a chance Typhir would end up on the losing end.

Granted, that was extremely hard to accomplish. The Demons behind him weren't just for show. The moment one of them made a move, so would they. These were the orders Apollo had distributed.

Regardless, one thing was overlooked.

When Typhir dashed forward, seeking to utterly crush Aeon, he sensed something at the last most, performing an abrupt sidestep.

Boom!

A large halberd shattered the ground where he once stood, a Spirit donned in azure armor appearing. The fluctuations of its aura were violent and so was its demeanor. It raised its halberd towards Typhir with a smirk.

"Come."

"Gladly," Typhir responded, a faint shade of black appearing beneath his feet. In the next moment, Typhir's body turned partly indiscernible whilst he moved forward. As one looked at him, one would realize an anomaly taking place.

It seemed as if he was performing an incomplete teleportation; his body disappearing and reappearing constantly. This was the fruit of Fuhrer guiding in the ways of melding pieces of the Tenebrous Sword with his actions.

Although he could only enter the void for an instant, this was a godly tool in battle when timed properly. If there wasn't a target for the opponent to hit, what would they strike? This small window would then disorient them, disrupting the flow of battle and putting the odds in Typhir's favor.

Of course, if the opponent's senses were too keen, they could estimate his reappearance based on his path of travel and current speed. However, to perform that calculation would require someone of Furcas's expertise. 

"Heh, mere parlor tricks!" The Spirit exclaimed, obliterating the ground as he dashed toward Typhir. Although he kept changing his position, the Spirit's eyes darted back and forth, keeping an active note of Typhir's whereabouts.

Not to mention, the wide range of the halberd allowed the Spirit to do something astonishing. He swept the halberd outward, covering not just the area Typhir appeared in, but the position behind and before him.

With his advance effectively neutralized, Typhir was left with no other choice. After a short estimation of the Spirit's strength, Typhir matched the strike with a blow of his own.

Bang!

The collision resulted in a deafening sound, but the clamor repeated continuously as both sides released a relentless barrage of attacks. For the most part, their attacks were equal, but Typhir ended up suffering a loss.

"Ugh," Typhir groaned. While he was focused on combatting the Spirit, Aeon had circled to his rear and attacked a blindspot. A longsword could be seen piercing through Typhir's side.

Furthermore, the Spirit took advantage of the small opening, delivering a heavy smash!

Boom!

The strike caused a large crater to be formed, destroying a portion of the steps. Jorgun was about to dash forward, however, Apollo lifted his arm and shook his head. "Don't worry, he is far from done."

"But Lord, they're teaming up on him," Jorgun responded.

"Not really, they're on the same team. Just leave this to Typhir. It's something he has to do," Apollo answered back.

Suddenly, the stairway began to rumble, precipitating Apollo's smile. "Now, go on and fight the Berserker."