The battlefield beneath the barrier lay in ruins.
Cracked stone. Scorched craters. Blood-soaked dirt.
The aftermath of power unleashed without restraint.
Maximus staggered forward, one hand clutching his ribs, the other extended toward the barely-breathing man on the ground.
"Get up, you bastard," he grunted, offering his arm to Viker. "Soon those inhumans are going to fight—and if we get caught between them..."
"We die. Yeah," Viker coughed, grasping his arm. He pulled himself upright with a wince. "We definitely die."
The two turned their heads toward the epicenter of the chaos.
Azrath stood at its heart.
Unmoving. Silent.
His greatsword remained sheathed on his back, yet the very air around him seemed heavy—suffocating. Warriors who had fought their whole lives now hesitated to breathe near him. Those who had watched his earlier clash with Cadrina could still feel the echo of it.
A woman who had radiated mana like a burning star…
...and had fallen.
Cho Ha Jin's voice broke the silence.
Her brows were furrowed, her hand tightening on the hilt of her blade. "What are you…?" she muttered, eyes narrowed. "That woman was overflowing with power—yet you defeated her. I can't even sense anything from you. No mana. No aura."
Azrath turned toward her.
His eyes, silver and cold as a dead winter moon, met hers.
He walked forward—slow, deliberate steps crunching across broken stone.
And then, he spoke.
"Don't worry about that, my lady."
His voice was low and even. It wasn't meant to intimidate. It didn't have to.
"Just enjoy the thrill."
Cho Ha Jin blinked, momentarily confused by the civility in his tone.
But she didn't mistake it for kindness.
Not now.
Not after what she had seen him do.
A soft breeze brushed past, scattering ash and dust into the air as footsteps echoed behind them.
Victoria stepped forward, her form graceful and composed even amid the destruction. She came to stand beside the one watching it all unfold—Lucian, the Demon God of Darkness.
"My Lord," she said gently, dipping her head in respect. "I've settled the matters you assigned. Shall I bring something to drink?"
Lucian didn't respond.
His gaze remained fixed on the barrier.
Not with worry—but with focus. Precision. As if dissecting every moment inside it.
Victoria followed his gaze, eyes scanning the broken landscape within.
Her lips curved into a slight smile.
"Oh… so those two are going to fight after all," she said. "I suppose it was inevitable. Still, I didn't expect them to defeat the others so quickly."
Lucian's voice was quiet, almost a murmur.
"Cadrina tried to stop him…"
He narrowed his eyes.
"But he was simply too strong for her to handle."
Victoria's tone was casual. "Yes. She's still human, after all."
Across the battlefield, Cho Ha Jin stood silently over the corpse of Mangus, her sword stained with his blood. She cleaned it in one smooth motion, wiping crimson from the edge without ever breaking eye contact with Azrath.
"I don't know much about you," she said, voice like wind on steel, "but your presence alone pisses me off."
She shifted into her stance—low, poised, like a coiled serpent about to strike. Then, without warning, she shot forward.
Heaven-Wind Sword Technique: First Art — Storm Petals
Her Qi surged.
Air curled around her form in swirls of blooming petals, each one razor-sharp and brimming with energy. The petals danced along the arc of her blade, flowing with her movement like a deadly storm dressed in beauty.
Her form blurred—fast. Precise.
She came at Azrath from the front, aiming to overwhelm with speed and grace. Her sword cut the air in a graceful horizontal sweep, amplified by the swirling momentum of her Qi.
But Azrath didn't backstep. He didn't flinch.
He closed the distance himself.
In the blink of an eye, his right arm moved. The massive blade still sheathed on his back, he merely lifted his forearm—horizontally.
Their blades met.
CLANG!
Cho Ha Jin's strike connected with solid metal.
Or so she thought.
For a moment, she believed she had gained ground. She pressed forward, muscles straining, pouring more force into the clash. Her eyes blazed with determination. Her petals spiraled faster.
Then—
Her vision twisted.
Azrath didn't budge.
He didn't move from the point of contact. No recoil. No stagger.
She felt it.
Not resistance.
Indifference.
A shudder went through her arm—then exploded up to her shoulder.
Her wrist split open.
Her shoulder tore as something dislocated.
Her palm were bleeding and her shoulder get dislocated due to the heavy impact of rebound energy, she whisper herself in mind "How, he doesn't even move from the impact, that also a direct hit usually people change the trajectory to reduce the impact but how is he ".
He push Cho ha Jin further back with force.
The impact forced Cho Ha Jin backward, her boots carving twin furrows in the dirt as she gritted her teeth to maintain balance. Her body screamed in protest. Blood ran freely down her wrist from the split in her palm, and her right shoulder throbbed with a dislocation she didn't have the luxury of fixing. Her eyes widened—not just in pain, but in disbelief.
He didn't move.
Azrath stood as if rooted to the earth, his greatsword still hovering where it had parried her attack. No recoil. No reaction. Just a cold, unreadable gaze behind eyes that had seen war.
"What… are you?" she hissed through clenched teeth, raising her blade once more. She circled left, slowing her breath, and tried to regain rhythm. Her Heaven-Wind sword style was known for speed, fluid motion, and overwhelming pressure through compounded strikes—her Qi, shaped like ephemeral petals, cut the air with elegance and lethality.
But none of it mattered.
Azrath took a step forward.
Just one.
Cho Ha Jin's breath caught. Her instincts screamed—not the trained instincts of a swordswoman, but something deeper. Primal.
He wasn't emitting killing intent. He didn't need to.
He was intent.
She struck again, trying to force the tempo.
"Second Art – Wind Spiral!"
Her sword curved into a helix of wind-forged Qi, each orbit compressing like a cyclone about to detonate. Her movements blurred, legs coiling and releasing in patterns too fast for average perception. She vanished from one spot and reappeared at Azrath's side, aiming a precise slash for his neck.
CLANG!
Steel rang. Her blade halted mid-motion, locked against Azrath's raised wrist-guard. He hadn't moved to parry with his blade. He didn't have to.
A single movement of his forearm neutralized the spiral.
Cho Ha Jin's eyes widened as she felt her wrist quake from the jarring halt. No… he anticipated the pattern? That fast?
Before she could retract, Azrath retaliated.
Not with flourish. Not with flair.
Just a simple, brutal counter.
He slammed his elbow into her jaw.
Crack!
Her head snapped sideways. Blood mixed with shattered enamel sprayed from her mouth as her legs lost all strength beneath her. She hit the ground and rolled, a lifeless heap of silks and steel.
Azrath didn't follow up. He waited.
The Iron-Blooded style was not about overwhelming offense. It was about destruction through economy—maximum lethality, minimum waste. It was soldiering honed into swordsmanship. He had calculated that she was not yet finished.
She coughed blood and forced herself upright, eyes wild now.
She wasn't used to losing.
She wasn't used to pain.
"Is this all you have?" Azrath said quietly, his voice like gravel and winter steel. "Your petals scatter too easily."
Humiliation flared in Cho Ha Jin's chest. Not just from his words—but from how calm he was. How utterly unshaken. She had never felt so outmatched. Her pride, the core of her cultivation, threatened to crack.
"No… No, no no!" she howled, slamming her sword into the dirt and drawing herself upright with raw will. "You think this is enough?!"
She roared, Qi bursting from her like a thunderclap.
The petals returned—but sharper. Denser. No longer soft silhouettes of wind. They became razors, blades of compressed Qi that shimmered like glass.
"Third Art – Blossoming Tempest!"
The air exploded in motion.
She moved like a phantom across the battlefield, sword dancing through the air in a dozen mirrored afterimages. Her strikes came from every angle, petals spinning and curving to mimic false attacks before the real blade came in—aimed directly for Azrath's vitals.
And for a moment—
Just a moment—
It looked like it might work.
Azrath's eyes narrowed.
He planted his foot.
And moved.
A pivot. One step forward. Shoulders dropped.
He brought his blade up from his side in a rising arc, cutting straight through the illusion of petals.
Not a wide swing. Not a desperate defense.
It was calculated.
Every petal that struck his aura shattered like glass.
The real blade met his at the perfect moment—just as he brought the iron edge of his greatsword upward.
Cho Ha Jin felt it before she saw it. Her blade… cracked.
No…
It broke.
A clean break, halfway up her sword. The shattered edge spun into the air, lost to the wind.
Her body followed it.
She was airborne before she registered it. The impact had lifted her off her feet like she was made of cloth. She crashed several meters away, tumbling in dirt and blood.
When she finally stopped, she couldn't move.
Her legs wouldn't respond. Her arms trembled. Her vision blurred. But she heard him walking.
Steady. Measured. Inevitable.
Azrath approached her like an executioner on a field of corpses.
"I've seen your technique before," he said, voice low. "You rely on speed. On deception. On beauty masking intent."
He knelt beside her and seized her broken sword from the ground, holding the fractured steel in his hands like a piece of evidence.
"You coat your weakness in petals."
Cho Ha Jin choked on blood and rage. "You… bastard…"
Azrath rose.
"She was stronger than you," he muttered, remembering someone else—another battlefield, another fight. "And I buried her too."
He turned his back.
Cho Ha Jin screamed. It wasn't pain. It wasn't rage.
It was humiliation.
With what little strength she had left, she raised her hand, gathering every shred of Qi into a final burst. Her sword was gone. Her pride shattered. But she would not be left in the dirt like a broken tool.
"DON'T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!"
Azrath stopped.
Didn't turn.
She roared and unleashed her Qi—
And then her wrist was crushed.
In a blink, he was in front of her.
His boot came down on her arm, snapping it like dry bamboo. Her scream tore the air apart.
He looked down at her. Cold. Merciless.
"This is war," he said.
And brought the flat of his blade across her face.
CRACK!
Her vision went white.
Then black.
She didn't remember anything other than hitting the ground.
Lucian flicked his finger—an effortless movement—and the fractured barrier disintegrated like fragile glass under divine command.
High above, Victoria raised her arms, and a holy light burst forth from her palms, enveloping the battlefield like a celestial tide. The brilliance washed over every warrior, every wound, every trace of agony. Flesh knit together in an instant, bones snapped back into place, and ruptured qi veins healed as though they had never been damaged. In a matter of seconds, the wounded were restored to perfect health.
Lucian stepped forward. Each stride he took resonated with invisible power, and the ruined earth responded—rubble reassembled, scorched ground regrew, and the once-desecrated field returned to an untouched state, as if the chaos of battle had been nothing more than a dream.
A flicker of black shadow appeared beside him—Baek Mu-sang, his black robes rippling from residual qi.
The man amplified his voice with internal energy, making it echo across the mountains and skies:
"The First Ranker: Demon King Azrath.
Second Ranker: Matriarch Cho Ha Jin.
Third Ranker: Grand Swordmaster Mangus Rutherford.
Fourth Ranker: Grand Magician Cadrina Rutherford.
Fifth Ranker: Swordmaster Maximus Ravenshade.
Sixth Ranker: Swordmaster Viker Ardent.
Seventh Ranker: Magician Isolde Valmont.
Eighth Ranker: Magician Celestia Valtorin."
Though many were too far to witness the duels, every Demon King, Martial Artist, and Holy Knight stationed across distant sectors heard the declaration clearly. Lucian had assigned them to tasks across different realms, forbidding direct observation—but none were spared the weight of this announcement.
A dark presence emerged beside Lucian—a cloaked figure whose eyes gleamed like twin pits of silver flame.
Dren Ashveil, leader of the Revenant Circle.
Lucian barely glanced at him. "You may all leave. Rest in the medical hall. Ensure Cadrina and Cho Ha Jin's conditions are examined."
The weight of his tone sent shivers down every spine. Even the most arrogant warriors offered no protest. Seeing Dren appear was a signal that something deeper stirred beneath the surface. In silent obedience, the survivors began to retreat from the battleground, vanishing one by one.
Lucian gave a slight nod. "You may continue."
Dren bowed low. "My Lord, you were right. Across multiple universes, under the divine banners of the God of Light, their holy temples have begun constructing armies of chimeras. They're using life energy siphoned from their own believers."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. The sky above flickered in response.
Chimeras—twisted creations of forbidden science. Born from forcibly fusing demons with humans. The human bodies are durable enough to sustain the fusion, which many demons aren't. Normally, demons must consume life essence to survive—Holy temples made it easy by providing them an artificial supply, binding them in servitude. In the end, the Holy Kingdom reaps all the benefits—strengthened soldiers, infinite fuel, and no moral cost.
Lucian turned slightly to Victoria, who stood beside him with her arms folded, expression unreadable.
"See, Victoria," Lucian said, voice laced with irony. "In the end… they're all the same."
Victoria sighed, brushing her silver hair behind one ear. "I already knew, my Lord. So please, stop teasing me."
Lucian let out a low chuckle. "Hahah… Soon we'll begin the grand theme. Dren, keep your eyes on them. And if you're capable, find out how many servants of the God of Light are hidden across these realms."
Dren dropped to one knee. "As you command, my Lord."
With a swirl of his cloak, the Revenant leader vanished into smoke and shadows.
—Meanwhile, in the Medical Hall—
The soft scent of incense wafted through the air, mingling with the quiet hum of healing magic. Golden runes shimmered faintly across the chamber walls. Several injured warriors lay on beds lined in silk and blessed fabric, overseen by robed physicians.
Cadrina's eyes blinked open, her body still weak, but no longer broken.
By her side stood Maximus Ravenshade and Isolde Valmont. Both looked exhausted but alive.
A softer voice approached from the other side of the room.
Celestia: "Sister… are you alright?"
Cadrina rubbed her temples and sat up slowly. "Yes. I'm fine."
Isolde frowned. "Just what kind of battle could've left you in this state?"
In the far corner, beside a glowing window, a silhouette sat motionless. The sun behind him made it hard to see his face, but the golden mane and powerful frame left no room for doubt.
Mangus Rutherford.
He stared out at the courtyard, a bitter look in his eyes.
Suddenly, he clenched his fist. "Tch… That monster is beyond any of us."
Cadrina turned toward him. "My mana was already halved after fighting Celestia and Isolde—"
Mangus cut in, tone sharp. "It's not just you. He even defeated that mad beast, Cho Ha Jin."
He motioned toward the far bed.
There lay Cho Ha Jin, once the indomitable Matriarch of the Wind Sect, now unmoving and eerily silent. Her body was whole, her qi healed thanks to Saintess Victoria's divine magic—but her eyes were vacant. Her mind was fractured.
Cadrina's gaze locked on her rival. For the first time in years, she felt a sliver of fear—not from physical pain, but the unknown.
She gave her head a sharp shake, trying to scatter the haze of doubt that clouded her mind. "I don't know how he defeated her… but when I faced him, I felt something I couldn't explain. As if he knew a truth about magic I never learned."
Isolde raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Cadrina continued slowly, still haunted. "Even when I entered the Magician's Zone… he didn't flinch. I hit him with several spells—pure 9th-tier incantations. None of them worked. It was as if the moment my magic touched him, the power just… vanished. Like the laws themselves unraveled around him."
Before she could speak further, Cho Ha Jin stirred.
She coughed violently, clutching her chest as if suffocating.
A soft voice intervened.
"Please, my lady. Breathe slowly."
A calm hand pressed against her back—Yue Lianhua, the Doctor of Ten Thousand Strikes. Her robe bore the sigil of the Heavenly Demon Cult, and her eyes gleamed with cultivated clarity.
Yue Lianhua: "Your body is healed, thanks to the Saintess. But your mind remains unstable. Please, rest."
Cho Ha Jin growled, her pride flickering back to life. "Leave me… I am fine."
The room went still as the gates to the hall creaked open.
Two figures walked in, radiating an overwhelming presence.
Lucian, Demon God of Darkness.
And beside him, the Saintess—Victoria.
Their arrival sent the room into hushed silence. Even the injured stiffened at their presence.
Cadrina's hands curled in the sheets.
Cho Ha Jin's glare dimmed.
And Mangus… clenched his jaw.