Multiverse: Seven Deadly Sins

...New York City...

Fenix Kaiser was a man of few complexities. He liked what he liked, and disliked what he didn't. Simple as that. Now, if you weren't familiar with him—and why would you be, unless you followed the global sports scene—he was essentially destined to become the world's greatest footballer. But his talents weren't limited to just kicking balls. No, Fenix's true power was rooted in his confidence. In his swagger. The man exuded pride, and that pride was everything. It was the kind of pride that made you walk into a room and own it before you even said a word. It was why he couldn't stand the feeling of weakness. Losing? That was for other people.

"Don't care if I win or lose," he always said, grinning like the cocky bastard he was. "You only gotta look cool while doing it."

This philosophy had served him well... until it didn't.

During a trip to the States to visit some friends, Fenix found himself caught in a game he never saw coming—a game where the stakes were life or death. And the one pulling the strings? Satan himself. Yeah, the big guy. As far as Fenix was concerned, that wasn't even the surprising part. The surprising part was how quickly his life was snuffed out.

The second he'd died, Fenix hadn't even had time to aura farm. He'd been insta-killed. A truly embarrassing way to go, and to make matters worse, he hadn't been able to take a single moment to savor his inevitable rise to dominance in the afterlife. No, instead, Satan had just been a dick about it, and now, here he was—dead. Again.

But Fenix wasn't the type to let things like "being dead" stop him from taking charge of a situation.

Currently, he was lying flat in the middle of an asphalt road, staring up at the sky in New York City, of all places. The chaos around him? Oh, that was just the start of something much bigger.

The sounds of destruction surrounded him—screams of terror, explosions tearing through buildings, debris flying everywhere. Aliens. Of course. What else could it be? These invaders on hover-gliders—ridiculous as it was—were zapping at the panicking civilians below. Some people were running. Others were just... well, dead. But Fenix?

He wasn't dead anymore. And he wasn't about to lie there like some lame, helpless spectator.

"AHHHHHHH!" A scream pierced the air.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

"HELP MEEEEE!"

Fenix pushed himself up from the road, the heat of the moment igniting something deep inside him. He was pissed. His pride had been shattered, his ego bruised, and if there was one thing Fenix didn't tolerate, it was feeling helpless. The universe might've sent him a shitty card this time, but damn if he wasn't going to play it like a royal flush.

He didn't have a clue how this was going to work, but right now, he was fueled by one thing: power. The kind of power that could make a man feel untouchable. Unstoppable. Even against alien invaders on hover-gliders. Even against the damn devil himself.

"Let's see what I can do with this," Fenix muttered, his hands crackling with raw energy as the S!N OF PR!D3 activated.

Pride wasn't just a part of him. It was now an inherent power. The S!N OF PR!D3 gave him the unique ability to tap into the strength, experience, and skills of others who shared his unyielding confidence and arrogance. The prideful of the multiverse, to be specific. But there was a catch. He could only channel the abilities of one person at a time.

Fenix grinned, a twisted satisfaction creeping onto his face.

"Vergil," he muttered.

Vergil. The eldest son of Sparda. A master of swordplay, a being of pure pride. His confidence was so dense it practically radiated off him. And if there was one person whose strength Fenix wanted right now? It was Vergil's. He could practically feel the essence of Vergil's pride coursing through his veins as the transformation took place. A wicked, familiar energy manifested around him.

The Yamato, Vergil's legendary sword, materialized in Fenix's hand. He couldn't help but smile as the blade's weight settled in his grip. This was the kind of power he needed. This was what he was talking about.

The aliens were still flying around, firing their high-tech weaponry at random civilians who didn't know what the hell was happening. Normally, Fenix would've been screwed—what did he know about fighting aliens? But right now, with Vergil's power thrumming through him, he felt invincible.

Without wasting another second, he flicked his wrist. A Mirage Blade shot forward, cutting through the air and slashing one of the alien gliders into a thousand pieces. The explosion lit up the sky. The kill feed in his head was already ticking up. Fenix's ego swelled as he observed his handiwork.

This is what I've been missing, he thought. The perfect mixture of power and swagger. The universe was finally giving him something to work with.

As he casually walked through the wreckage of the city, people stared in awe, their fear melting into awe-stricken admiration. That was what he wanted—he was a showman, a natural born leader. And right now, he was in the mood to put on a hell of a show.

His feet left the ground as he summoned the demonic energy within him, his back glowing with ethereal blue wings that spread out, arching and flaring in a stunning display of light. He hovered over the destroyed streets, the wings carrying him higher into the sky, his Yamato still held tightly in hand.

He was on a hunt. The city was his playground, and those aliens didn't stand a chance.

Fenix flew with purpose, cutting down enemy after enemy, each slash sending shockwaves through the streets. His movements were graceful and precise—Vergil's training took over as he began slicing down the invaders without even breaking a sweat. His kill count was climbing, and his pride soared higher with every alien that fell.

But as Fenix soared over the city, he saw something that made his stomach tighten. There were more people helping—people with abilities, probably just like him. But they were spread thin. And as more aliens descended, it became clear that this wasn't just a random attack; it was a coordinated assault.

Fenix ground to a halt, hovering in the air as he observed the chaos around him. If this continued, a lot of innocent people were going to die, and that would cost him precious aura. His pride didn't just rely on power—it relied on winning. And if too many people died, well, there would be no audience left to admire him.

He knew what he had to do.

The Yamato crackled with demonic energy as he pointed it at the heart of the alien invasion. A massive wave of energy blasted forward, slashing through multiple alien ships in an instant. The aftermath was a spectacular explosion of light and debris. The aliens were being pushed back, but this wasn't enough. Not yet.

Fenix's pride demanded more.

He flew higher, gliding through the smoke and rubble, focusing on every alien craft in his sight. He was unstoppable now. His ego was on fire, his power unmatched. And in this moment, with Vergil's strength coursing through him, he knew one thing for sure: he wasn't just going to survive this invasion—he was going to dominate it.

The city would remember this day. They would remember Fenix Kaiser.

.....End of Chapter...