Luciel's smirk lingered, his silver eyes gleaming with something between excitement and intrigue. A worthy challenge.
The storm around him raged, swirling like a living force, the winds screaming as Zephyros crackled with unrestrained lightning. The sheer density of his power twisted the air, turning the sky into a canvas of writhing chaos.
Ethan, however, was unshaken.
His Warhammer pulsed in his hands, still shifting, still alive with the combined might of his affinities. He could feel Angitia's mind brushing against his own, guiding him, whispering the movement of the battlefield before it happened.
He could feel Galeno's stability, an immovable weight that anchored him to the earth, making him a fortress.
Maverick's alchemy burned through his veins, transmutation circles weaving along his arms, ever-adapting, ever-reforging his weapon on a molecular level.
Stygian's deathflames licked at his skin, not consuming—but fueling.
Onyx was not guiding. Not stabilizing.
It was simply waiting.
Like a predator, coiled in the depths of his soul, hungry.
Ethan rolled his shoulders, exhaling slowly as his weapon shifted once more—
It elongated in an instant, the tip vibrating at an impossible frequency, blood-infused creation magic warping the edges, making it sharper than anything natural. The moment the transition completed—
A detonation of force ruptured the sky as Ethan closed the distance in a blink, his spear thrusting forward, aimed directly at Luciel's heart.
Luciel tilted his head, his body a blur as he avoided the strike by a hair's breadth.
But Ethan was already moving.
His weapon shifted mid-thrust, morphing into twin daggers, his momentum twisting as he slashed horizontally. The daggers blurred with psychic-infused speed, each strike aimed not at Luciel's body—
Each slash tore through the winds themselves, disrupting the very currents that gave Luciel his unnatural movement.
Luciel's eyes narrowed as he countered with Zephyros.
A single pluck of the bowstring—
A gale-force explosion erupted between them, separating the two like a divine decree. The wind compressed into a razor-thin line, slicing across Ethan's cheek, leaving behind a faint cut that sealed almost immediately thanks to his Blood Magic.
Luciel hovered above, one foot lightly touching the air as if it were solid ground.
"Your adaptability is impressive," he admitted, his voice smooth, unbothered. "But you're still below me."
Ethan flipped his dagger in his hand—
It was no longer a dagger.
Now a chain, blackened by necrotic flames, laced with formless void.
He swung it without hesitation.
Luciel moved to dodge—
But this time, he felt it.
The slight distortion in the air.
Ethan's attacks weren't just random shifts.
They were deliberate.
Each weapon, each transformation—a trap.
Luciel narrowed his eyes as he bent backward, narrowly avoiding the flaming chain as it whipped past his face, slicing through the space where his throat had been a moment before. The attack didn't touch him—
But it stole the wind from his lungs.
For the first time, Luciel felt it.
The crushing weight of Ethan's abyss.
A force that did not belong in this world.
Ethan yanked the chain back, gripping it tightly before shifting it—
Back into his Warhammer.
Luciel let out a slow breath, glancing at the slight tear in his robes.
His fingers flexed against Zephyros.
Then, for the first time—
"You might actually be fun, Ethan Smith."
Then—he lifted two fingers.
A pillar of raw storm essence descended, lightning laced with wind sharper than any blade. It was not an attack.
Ethan only had seconds to react.
And so, he did what he did best.
"Blood Magic: Abyssal Bastion!"
His hammer slammed into the ground, and from it—
A wall of blood-forged earth, reinforced by alchemic sigils, twisted with void-infused reinforcement—rose up to meet the storm.
The impact split the battlefield.
Lightning clashed against creation.
Wind screamed against abyssal will.
Ethan dug his feet in, gripping his hammer tighter, feeling the energy tearing at him—but refusing to yield.
Luciel hovered above, watching. Waiting.
Then—he pulled Zephyros' bowstring once more.
Unless he surpassed himself.
And so, Ethan breathed in.
The air burned in his lungs.
The blood in his veins boiled.
The abyss within him growled.
Luciel released his arrow.
And Ethan unleashed something that had never existed before.
The world would never be the same again.
The world froze as Luciel lifted two fingers.
The laws of reality twisted.
The moment his special Saint Realm ability activated, Ethan felt it.
Not even something tangible.
A force beyond mere strength, beyond affinities or magic—it was the will of a being who stood at the precipice of godhood.
Ethan's instincts screamed.
His muscles tensed, his blood boiled, and even his soul itself recoiled as a weight heavier than the world itself pressed down upon him.
Luciel exhaled, his eyes gleaming with divine light.
At once, the battlefield collapsed.
Not literally—no, that would be too simple.
Instead, the space itself folded inward, like the fabric of the world was being rewritten.
Ethan's power unraveled.
His very existence trembled.
His connection to his beasts—Angitia, Galeno, Stygian, Maverick, and Onyx—weakened. They fought against it, struggling, but the more Ethan resisted, the heavier the burden became.
Luciel lowered his fingers slightly—and suddenly, Ethan's own strength turned against him.
His hammer, his abyssal warform—his very body—began to disassemble.
"Do you understand now?" Luciel said, his tone unshaken, almost gentle. "This is the difference between us. You were strong, Ethan. But strength alone is not enough. You need—"
Ethan's roar cut through the heavens.
The moment he called, the world shuddered.
The space Luciel had folded shook.
A howl tore through existence itself.
A portal of swirling deep blue sound waves erupted above the battlefield. The air sang, vibrating with a frequency that could shatter mountains.
From the portal, a monstrous drake emerged.
Its scales gleamed in a mix of dark blue and abyssal black, rippling like a moving storm. Its massive wings carried runic sigils of sound magic, glowing with each breath. Its eyes—piercing sapphire blue—locked onto Ethan.
And then, without hesitation—
The moment Sage touched Ethan, the fusion was instant.
Ethan's body expanded, his muscles reforging, his blood surging with unprecedented force. His Warhammer, once infused with blood, creation, and his beasts—
Now, infused with sound.
Each movement sang, the air itself trembling around his existence. His footsteps left reverberations, his breath carried a symphony of power, and his warhammer—
It pulsed like a living instrument of destruction.
Luciel's world detonated.
A single swing of Ethan's Warhammer shattered the storm, sending shockwaves across the battlefield that erased everything in a hundred-meter radius.
Luciel barely managed to evade—barely—before Ethan's figure reappeared above him.
The second swing came faster.
Luciel raised Zephyros—
But it wasn't fast enough.
The air screamed as Luciel was slammed into the ground, his body carving a crater as Ethan landed with earth-shattering force.
His fused form towered over the battlefield.
His abyssal aura burned.
His Warhammer, now vibrating with sound magic, pulsed with an intensity that defied logic.
As Ethan took another step forward—
A voice whispered in his mind.
It wasn't his beasts.
A voice from he knew too well.
The voice of his advisor and teacher.
A glowing red notification flashed before his vision.
Multiple High-Tier Fusion Detected.
Your body is exceeding its limit.
Remaining Time Before Total Collapse: 1 hour.
Ethan's fingers twitched.
And for the first time—
Something was very, very wrong.
His power—it was too much.
His body was breaking apart.
And Luciel, still in the crater, slowly stood—grinning.
"…Looks like you just signed your own death sentence."
Straight into the storm.
The real battle had just begun.
'No, no, no… I must do something. He's dying.' Seraphis screamed in her mind.
'He is not worth it, my queen.'
The voice slithered through her thoughts, feminine yet cold, almost mechanical in its detachment. Ueir.
Seraphis clenched her fists. 'You don't understand.'
'I understand perfectly. Where was he when they treated you like filth? When they spat on your name, when they made you crawl in the dirt like some broken creature?'
She flinched, but her resolve didn't waver. 'That's not—'
'He was traveling. Wandering from place to place, gathering women as he pleased. Just look at them. There's even a dragon. A dragon, Seraphis.'
'They are his soulmates.'
'It's not about weakness.'
'Then what is it about? Love? Fate? Devotion? Tell me, my queen, where was fate when you suffered? Where was devotion when they cast you aside? You were alone. And now you would risk yourself for a man who—'
Seraphis exhaled slowly, her gaze locked onto Ethan's battered form. Blood soaked the ground beneath him. His breathing was uneven. His soul was fraying at the edges.
It didn't matter what he had done before. What mattered was now.
Ueir hissed in frustration. 'You're making a mistake.'
'Then let it be my mistake.'
The wind howled around her as power surged through her veins, her decision sealed.