"Tensei!" Castiel manages to choke out as the Perfecta's arms smother him, "Stop channeling that power! Its corrupting your soul!"

The Hero lands on the Perfecta's back from his leap and regards Michael calmly, "For Rose's sake sir, I am willing to pay any price. If destroying my soul is what it takes, then so be it!"

As the Hero turns and begins slashing away at the Perfecta with his blackened spirit sword, I begin to giggle uncontrollably. Does the Hero even hear himself talk? Castiel hears me and gives me an angry glare from where the Perfecta is holding him down. 

"What?" I smirk back at Castiel, "I'm just touched at Tensei's righteous heart."

"That heart you sneer at will be destroyed by the Tyrant's power." Castiel hisses, "Tensei will eventually be reduced to an unfeeling automaton as the Tyrant gets its claws into him. Love and joy, the gifts of milady, will forever be lost to him."

I laugh softly at Castiel's over dramatic description of the Hero. "Somehow I doubt that." I reply, "My guess is that love, for a certain meaning of the word, is going to be a large part of Tensei's life."

The Perfecta roars in pain as the Hero slashes away at it, his blackened blade leaving behind a trail of spiritual miasma that greatly slows the monster's regeneration. Bleeding wounds cover the Perfecta's body and several of its arms have already been lopped off. I don't think Big Tits ever taught the Hero that trick. It must be a little something extra The Voice provided as part of the Hero's power set. 

Castiel snaps angrily, "Don't patronize me blackguard. What Tensei will experience if he carries walking on this path has nothing to do with love. He will be reduced to being a mindless animal, enslaved to his lust."

I shake my head in amusement at this rebuttal and both of us go back to watching the Hero tear away at the Perfecta. Well, at the end of the day what Castiel is saying is true isn't it? The Hero is well on his way in becoming a man whore. And after that he's going to be murdered by the Idol. A rather pathetic destiny, if you want to think about it. 

The Hero's spirit core releases a massive, overwhelming blast of pressure as he tosses his black spirit sword high into the air, cracks spreading across the blade's surface. The sudden burst of pressure causes both Castiel and I to wince. We immediately begin circulating our own cores to resist being crushed by the onslaught of raw energy being unleashed by the Hero. The Perfecta's legs begin to buckle from the unpleasant sensation and it sways drunkenly about, trying to focus itself. Going by the amount of pressure the Hero is releasing, his soul must be heavily polluted, probably a side effect of The Voice's enhancements. 

"A thousand blades conquer ten thousand flowers!" The Hero shouts and the spirit sword shatters explosively in the air, scattering the blade fragments. 

That's Big Tits's ultimate technique isn't it? Shit, if I remember correctly that technique is an area of effect attack. Does the Hero not care about Castiel and I? Castiel's face pales, probably having come to the same conclusion as I did. Both of us share a panicked look at each other before going back to struggling against the Perfecta's arms holding us down.

Another wave of pressure slams into both of us, grinding Castiel and I against the slimy flesh of the monster. The pressure this time is not merely being exuded by the Hero, but also by each of the individual blade fragments plummeting downwards towards the Perfecta. As the fragments fall from the sky, each of them begins to grow, turning into a fully formed spirit sword.  I swallow hard, Big Tits could not do that during her fight against the Loli vampire. The Hero has already taken the technique to the next level after a few weeks worth of training. I knew that the Hero was going to level up, but Castiel's sentiments are correct. This rate of growth is bullshit. 

The deluge of swords shower the Perfecta, the blades wedging deep within the monster's flesh. And the worst part is that the deluge seems never ending. A relentless barrage coming from above hammering the Perfecta remorselessly. I wince as a blade just barely misses my head, piercing the spot next to where I am pinned while Castiel barks in pain as a blade slams squarely into his crotch before being deflected by the protective crimson mesh. 

Don't tell me the Hero actually conjured a thousand swords? Just as I am about to taunt Castiel at his expense, another blade strikes my gut and a hot flash of pain travels up my body. While the blade falls away ineffectually as expected, I look on in horror as the miasma the blade was carrying easily slips into my body and spreads throughout my spirit core. My core abruptly goes haywire, firing off uneven jolts of spirit energy, causing my entire body to twitch violently. 

Castiel fares no better, the red mesh offering no protection against the black miasma. His body completely comprised of spirit energy, soaks up the miasma like a sponge.  Castiel closes his eyes and clenches his teeth, his body all the while jerking up and down furiously, completely out of his control. With a long, painful groan, Castiel flares his core to the utmost, releasing a storm of hot energy that begins to burn away the miasma infecting him. Following his lead, I grit my teeth and blaze my own core as well, and feel the miasma's influence slowly but surely begin to fall away. 

The Perfecta shrieks in pain as each of the spirit blades stabbed into its bulk injects miasma into the monster's body, the black fog fighting back against the clean spirit energy the beast is circulating. Despite appearances, the Perfecta's stores of spirit energy are in reality very limited and combating the miasma puts an even greater strain on those already inadequate reserves. Small bloody rents and tears begin to appear across the Perfecta's skin and its arms begin to lose their strength. 

"Rose! I'm coming!" The Hero blares, his spiritual nimbus a churning black typhoon. Summoning a fresh spirit sword, the Hero dashes across the Perfecta's body and jumps straight into the giant mouth on its back. 

The Perfecta reacts with a sharp cry of pain and drops to the ground hard, releasing its grip on Castiel and I. Both of us surge our cores simultaneously, purging the last of the miasma within and get back to our feet. As we try to find our footing on the slick surface of the Perfecta's skin, jets of white flame begin to burst out of the wounds that cover its body. The flesh of the Perfecta begins to melt, forming bloody patches of sludge.

Its happening, the Perfecta's body is about to fail. I grimace as I gingerly make my way across the heaving mass towards the pit's wall and Castiel conjures his golden wings once more, ready to take off. But before either of us can make good on our respective plans, the spirit blades embedded in the Perfecta explode, the shock wave throwing both of us off its body. Castiel and I slam against the pit's wall while lumps of flesh spray all over the place, the monster losing its physical cohesion. 

As the Perfecta's body breaks apart, it releases an expanding cloud of white flame that hungrily surges across the entire pit. Thinking quickly, I sink my left hand into the wall and grab Castiel with my right. He flaps his wings desperately, trying to escape from the encroaching wave of fire, but with me as an anchor, he gets absolutely nowhere. 

"What are you doing!" Castiel demands. 

"Be a pal and share some of that goddess protection, ok?" I gasp as the heat from the flames begins to reach both of us. I pull Castiel's body against mine, letting it serve as a makeshift shield and hear the familiar crackle of the red mesh as the rush of white flame reaches him. Castiel thrashes about fruitlessly, unable to break my iron grip. The red mesh begins to flicker worryingly as it resists the flame though. His Incarnate power must be at the limit. 

Castiel barks angrily as he elbows me in the face, "This is not over blackguard. We will meet again!"

Just as I am about to ask him what he's planning, Castiel ceases struggling against me and casts his gaze upwards and says a single word. 

"Recall!"

The red mesh surrounding Castiel's body breaks apart and he literally disintegrates into motes of spirit energy. Like wayward stars, the motes shoot off into the distance, leaving me behind to take the conflagration right in the face. 

The flames rush over me and pain fills my entire body to the point where I can no longer hold on to the wall. I plummet downwards once more, into the heart of the fire. But as I fall, from that fiery core, a cold wind is birthed, growing outwards. A churning mass of pitch black spiritual energy sweeps the flames aside and blessing me with icy coldness. Against this power, even the flames born from complete purity is nothing.

The fire sputters and dies. I hit the ground and begin to twitch haplessly from all the miasma I had absorbed on my way down. I try to get back to my feet but collapse on my knees before winding up in an undignified kowtow. I begin to rev up my core again to burn away the miasma, but irresistible pain floods my entire body. I can't do it. My body won't survive the strain.

The curtain of miasma parts, revealing the Hero in all his glory standing amidst the bloody carcass of the Perfecta, holding an unconscious Brocon in a princess carry. I swallow hard as the Hero's flinty, merciless gaze locks on to me. 

Shit.