The hours before dawn found Ultimatum's elite forces gliding silently through the skies above the outskirts of Delhi. Far below them lay a vast, shadowed sprawl of land—abandoned factories, half-swallowed roads, and ruined structures that concealed the headquarters of the infamous Demon God Cult. From this height, the compound appeared deceptively still, like a sleeping beast unaware that hunters circled overhead.
The Sky Ship cut through the clouds like a great celestial galleon, its immense hull parting mist with effortless authority. Once, long ago, it had been built to sail the seas, its wooden frame creaking beneath salt winds and cannon fire. Now, it had been reborn as something far more fearsome—a flying fortress forged from ancient magic and cutting-edge technology. Glowing runes were etched deep along its sides, pulsing faintly in rhythm, while reinforced plating shimmered with protective sigils that bent light around them. Dormant attack runes lay in wait, humming softly, as though eager to be unleashed.
Wherever the Sky Ship appeared, destruction was sure to follow.
At the forefront of the deck stood Xuan.
She was perfectly still, hands folded behind her back as the wind tugged gently at her dark hair. Her gaze was calm and unwavering as she surveyed the team leaders gathered behind her. Though she spoke no words, her presence alone anchored the ship, steadying the thoughts of those aboard.
Elise stood quietly to Xuan's right, her pale eyes constantly scanning the horizon. Frost curled faintly around her fingertips, a subconscious response to the anticipation coiling within her chest. She looked as though she were waiting for something—or someone—to emerge from the coming battle.
Garuda loomed nearby like a living fortress, his massive arms crossed over his broad chest. The metal beneath his boots groaned faintly as he shifted his weight, barely contained excitement radiating from him in palpable waves. To him, this was not merely a mission—it was a proving ground.
Clara rested her spear lightly against her shoulder, her posture relaxed but precise. A faint smile curved her lips, not from arrogance, but from certainty. She looked as though she already knew how the night would unfold and had accepted it without fear.
Malik, usually relaxed to the point of indifference, stood alert now. His phone was nowhere in sight, every trace of laziness stripped away by the gravity of the mission. His eyes flicked across the deck, measuring distances, watching movement, already planning contingencies no one else had voiced aloud.
Every single one of them wearing a silver masquarade mask. That is Ultimatum trademarks. All the high level operative wears different silver mask with distinct design.
The air itself seemed to hum with tension.
They all felt it. This mission was different.
Sky Fist's direct involvement was no ordinary matter. It meant that Ultimatum was not merely responding to an attack—it was preparing to reshape the battlefield entirely. When Sky Fist moved, the world adjusted around him.
As dawn crept slowly over the horizon, painting the sky in deep crimson and molten gold, a presence emerged behind them—quiet, overwhelming, undeniable.
Sky Fist.
No announcement marked his arrival. There was no sound of footsteps, no ripple in the air. Yet every soul aboard the Sky Ship felt it instantly. His indomitable aura pressed down like an unseen weight, commanding respect without a single word spoken.
Half of his face was concealed beneath a silver masquerade mask with a lion head, smooth and expressionless, reflecting the rising sunlight in cold gleams. Whatever lay beneath it remained a mystery no one dared to question. His uncovered eye was sharp, unreadable, as though it saw not merely the battlefield ahead, but every possible outcome branching from it.
His gaze passed over the assembled leaders before settling briefly on Xuan. He inclined his head once.
That was all.
"Today," Xuan said, her voice carrying across the deck with solemn clarity, "we strike at the heart of darkness. The Demon God Cult has crossed a line it should never have touched. With Sky Fist among us, this battle is already decided."
Her words did not ring with bravado, but with certainty.
The leaders nodded, each acutely aware of the dangers ahead. The Demon God Cult was infamous not merely for its cruelty, but for its strength. Its members were bolstered by an unusually high number of powerful superhumans, bound together by fanaticism and dark rites that twisted both body and soul.
Yet Ultimatum's strength—honed through trust, discipline, and countless battles—was no lesser force.
At Sky Fist's silent signal, the assault began.
The Sky Ship descended.
Ultimatum poured from the skies like a divine judgment. Garuda led the vanguard, his Second Raid Team crashing through the cult's outer defenses like a living avalanche. Shockwaves rippled outward as he struck the ground, stone and steel buckling beneath his impact.
Clara's First Raid Team moved like lightning, splitting off mid-descent. They struck vital points with flawless coordination, dismantling defensive structures before alarms could fully sound. Cultists fell in neat, decisive motions, never quite understanding what had hit them.
Elise's Third Raid Team followed, calm and methodical. Sheets of ice swept across enemy advances, freezing weapons mid-swing and sealing pathways in glittering walls of frost. Counterattacks unraveled before they could take form, smothered beneath calculated precision.
Malik's Fourth Raid Team flowed between them all, adapting instantly to shifting conditions. Where defenses stiffened, his team reinforced. Where lines faltered, they stabilized. Malik himself moved like a shadow, always where he was needed most, his actions subtle but indispensable.
And then there was Sky Fist.
Where he moved, the battlefield changed.
Each strike of his fist unleashed tremendous force—not wild or reckless, but terrifyingly controlled. Shockwaves tore through enemy formations, scattering cultists like leaves before a storm. The very air cracked as his blows landed, rippling outward in visible arcs.
His movements were simple, almost effortless, yet devastating beyond comprehension. Legends claimed his fists could cleave the sky itself—not out of necessity, but as a reminder. Why his blows always rose upward instead of striking forward was known only to him, a mystery whispered about with reverence and unease.
As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the compound, the cult's once-dreaded headquarters began to collapse beneath the onslaught. Towers crumbled. Defensive arrays shattered. Fires burned unchecked.
Yet something was wrong.
The cult's leader had not appeared.
Neither had their cardinals.
Nor their elites.
For nearly half an hour, Ultimatum fought relentlessly against waves of lesser cultists—numerous but disorganized. They came in droves, chanting, screaming, throwing themselves into battle with reckless abandon. These bottom feeders were not even considered members of the cult. They were meat shields, used solely to deplete the enemies strengh and stamina.
Xuan felt it deep in her chest.
This was not the real battle.
Her communicator buzzed sharply against her wrist.
"Xuan here," she said, her voice crisp.
Sky Fist's voice answered, calm but firm. "Resistance is increasing, but they're insignificant. The real threats haven't shown themselves. Warn the others—stay sharp."
Xuan did not hesitate. She relayed the message at once.
Garuda let out a thunderous roar, rallying his team with renewed ferocity. Clara adjusted her stance, smile fading as her eyes narrowed. Elise and Malik exchanged brief nods, already preparing for what they knew must come.
Then the ground trembled.
A wave of dark, oppressive energy surged through the compound, heavy enough to silence even the clash of battle. Fires guttered. Ice cracked. The air grew thick, suffocating.
From the shadows emerged figures cloaked in black.
Their presence alone was enough to sap strength from the weary. Ancient masks concealed their faces, carved with grotesque symbols, but malice gleamed unmistakably from the eyes behind them.
At their head stood Death God Kali.
He was broad and powerfully built beneath his dark robes, his long white beard and flowing hair framing a face etched with cold authority. His gaze swept across the battlefield with disdainful calm, as though judging livestock rather than enemies.
Behind him marched the four Cardinals of the Demon God Cult—each radiating power that distorted the air around them. Dozens of elites followed, their combined presence dwarfing that of Ultimatum's already-engaged forces.
Xuan's breath caught.
This was the true enemy.
The situation was grim. Ultimatum's members were fatigued. Some were injured. Many had already withdrawn from combat. Against them stood foes who had conserved their strength, waiting patiently.
The cult struck first.
Dark energies lashed across the battlefield, tearing through ground and sky alike. Sky Fist moved to meet them, his collision with the cult's strongest sending shockwaves that rattled the compound's very foundations.
Garuda charged headlong into one of the cardinals—Stone Demon Ravana. Their collision shook the earth as raw strength met unyielding resilience. Ravana's body hardened like living stone, but Garuda's fury did not waver, each blow driving cracks deeper into his foe.
Elsewhere, the remaining leaders found their adversaries.
Clara faced Blood Demon Rakshasha, her spear gleaming as it met crimson claws dripping with corrupted energy.
Elise confronted Dark Phoenix Blazar, ice and flame colliding in blinding brilliance that lit the battlefield like a second sun.
Malik engaged Myriad God Devi, speed and momentum clashing against divine force, their movements too fast for ordinary eyes to follow.
Each confrontation was a battle between S-Ranked superhumans—clashes that would decide not just victory, but survival.
Above them all, the sun continued its relentless rise.
And with it, the true battle for supremacy had finally begun.