Luciel's grip on Zephyros tightened, his storm-infused aura writhing with barely contained fury. He had been toying with Ethan before, confident in his overwhelming power. But now—now—the battlefield had changed.
Ethan stood tall, his final Sync complete, his presence no longer that of an Emperor Realm warrior struggling to survive. No—he had become something else entirely.
His warhammer, now pulsing with creation, blood, and raw sound, radiated an oppressive force that sent tremors across the frozen wasteland. With every breath, the air vibrated, the frequency of his existence distorting reality itself.
Luciel narrowed his eyes. "You don't know what you're doing, Ethan Smith."
Ethan exhaled slowly, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. "And you don't know what's coming for you."
Ethan moved—faster than sound itself.
One moment, he was yards away—the next, his warhammer was already swinging.
Luciel barely had time to react. He twisted his body at the last second, but even with his speed, the attack grazed his side—and that was enough.
Luciel was sent hurtling across the battlefield, his body smashing through his own storm-infused gales. The sheer force behind Ethan's strike created a vacuum, the very wind collapsing in on itself before exploding outward with a shockwave of blood-red and deep blue energy.
Seraphis wasted no time.
With a flick of her wrist, spires of absolute zero erupted from beneath Luciel's trajectory, the air itself freezing so rapidly that the moisture in the atmosphere solidified into jagged ice spears.
Luciel twisted midair, barely avoiding impalement, but the moment his foot touched the ground—
Ethan was already there.
Luciel raised Zephyros in a desperate attempt to counter, his storm arrows materializing instantly, but Ethan's hammer—now vibrating at unimaginable frequencies—shattered them before they could even take full form.
He hissed, his calm demeanor breaking as he leapt back, his hands moving in a blurring pattern.
The sky howled, splitting apart as Luciel activated his ultimate technique. A vortex of celestial stormfire coiled above, a titanic bow forming in the heavens, its sheer presence warping the battlefield. The storm's eye locked onto Ethan, divine lightning weaving into a singular arrow so devastating that the ground itself disintegrated beneath its forming presence.
Seraphis clenched her fists, her frost aura surging. "Ethan—"
Ethan didn't hesitate.
He lifted his ever-changing weapon, and this time—it was all weapons at once.
The warhammer elongated, shifting into a greatsword, then a spear, then chains, before settling into an unrecognizable fusion of them all. The sheer creation force emanating from it clashed violently with the storm bow above, the two titanic energies preparing to collide in an instant that would determine the fate of the battlefield.
Luciel pulled back the bowstring.
Ethan lifted his weapon high.
Luciel's storm surged with violent fury, his arrows no longer just weapons but judgments, each one carrying the will of the Saint Realm itself. The sheer force behind them split the earth, winds howling as the very air bent to his dominance.
Seraphis, encased in a radiant frost, met him head-on, her ice clashing against his storm in a collision of extremes. Every strike of her frost-laced spear sent shockwaves through the battlefield, but Luciel—he was too fast, too overwhelming.
A piercing streak of lightning.
Seraphis barely saw it before it tore through her side.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as blood sprayed into the air, freezing upon contact with her own magic. She staggered midair, her wings flickering, but she didn't fall. She couldn't.
Yet Luciel was relentless. He was upon her in an instant, Zephyros drawn back once more, this time with a shot meant to end her completely.
A sudden silence fell.
As though the battlefield itself had been rewritten.
Luciel's instincts screamed. He moved to fire, to react, but his limbs—they wouldn't move.
A shadow fell over him.
Something beyond him.
Something that shouldn't exist.
His form was wreathed in a halo of creation, yet shrouded in the endless abyss of blood and mysticism. His once-flowing energy had become something far more terrifying—
A concept that could dictate reality itself.
The air warped, space twisted—Luciel's entire being was suddenly bound by an overwhelming force.
And then he heard it.
But it wasn't merely sound.
"Blood Edict: Immutable Dominion."
The moment the words were spoken, Luciel's reality changed.
His lightning, his wind—his very connection to the Saint Realm—cut off.
His body froze, not in ice, but in something far deeper, something that denied motion, denied existence, denied resistance.
A crushing pressure descended upon him, something beyond the realm of power, beyond the concept of strength—
Luciel's silver eyes widened in sheer disbelief as Ethan moved.
His warhammer, now a weapon forged from every aspect of his being, pulsed with an ominous glow, shifting between forms—blade, spear, chains—before solidifying into a hammer once more.
The force was not just physical.
Luciel couldn't stop it.
The blow landed, and for the first time in the entire battle—
His body was sent hurtling downward, the very fabric of the battlefield rupturing beneath him as he crashed, a colossal explosion of force rippling outward.
A crater. Deep. Vast. Unfathomable.
Luciel lay motionless.
Ethan hovered above, his golden-red eyes burning, his very presence now something beyond comprehension.
The battle had not ended.
But for the first time—
Luciel was beneath him.
The battlefield lay in ruins, the ground scorched, the sky fractured by the sheer force of their clash. A silence lingered, heavy and expectant, as dust and debris settled in the wake of Ethan's Immutable Dominion.
Luciel should have stayed down.
From the depths of the massive crater, a flicker of silver light pulsed. Then another.
A shockwave erupted from below, shattering what remained of the earth as Luciel rose.
His once-pristine form was now battered and bloodied, the left side of his chest cracked, his divine armor fractured in ways that should have been impossible. His expression, once calm, was now twisted into something Ethan had never seen before.
"This… this is the path you've chosen, Ethan?" Luciel's voice was lower, almost a growl. The winds stirred, but they no longer obeyed him fully. His connection to the Saint Realm had been damaged—but not severed.
Ethan's breath came ragged, his body nearly collapsing midair. His muscles screamed, his vision blurred, his very existence fracturing under the weight of his fused state. He knew it.
Seraphis could see it too. Her ice magic swirled around him protectively, but even she knew—he wouldn't last much longer.
Luciel lifted Zephyros again, the bow trembling, but still crackling with power. "You will never defeat me, Ethan Smith. You've reached your peak, but I…" His silver eyes blazed. "I am the peak!"
Ethan exhaled slowly. His vision darkened. His body wanted to give in. Every fiber of his being begged him to collapse.
Something stirred within him.
A power he had long locked away.
His fingers twitched. His lips curled.
And then, he whispered the words.
The wind no longer howled. The ground no longer trembled. Everything froze.
Luciel's eyes widened—but he couldn't move.
The battlefield vanished.
Luciel found himself in a world unlike any other.
Not fire. Not blood. Just… red. Infinite, suffocating, overwhelming. The sky and earth were indistinguishable, a vast emptiness stretching beyond his comprehension. And in that void, something stirred.
A serpent. Massive, scaly, eternal. Its piercing blue gaze fell upon him. The sheer weight of its existence crushed him before it even moved.
This was the Face of Terror as it had always been—a monstrous entity beyond understanding. A being that turned even Saints into mere insects.
Luciel tried to resist. He called upon his power, but—
This time, the vision changed.
In its place, shadows rose.
Luciel's breath hitched as a new vision took shape—one that was far worse.
They stood around him.
Ethan's Spirit Beasts, no longer bound by mortal limitations, no longer just creatures of power. They stood tall, vast, their presence absolute.
Angitia, her serpentine form coiling across the endless red sky, her blue eyes gleaming with psychic omniscience.
Galeno, the titanic tortoise, his shell engraved with primordial runes, his stance unshakable, his will eternal.
Maverick, his golden form radiating an unknowable brilliance, alchemic formulas shifting endlessly across his stone-like skin.
Stygian, a living shadow, his three heads snarling, each one whispering a forgotten truth of death itself.
Onyx, the formless void, the absence of existence itself, its presence alone devouring reality.
Sage, the Sound Drake, his dark blue scales shifting like liquid, his eyes deep pools of endless echoes, his power vibrating through the very fabric of the realm.
And in the midst of them—
Seated upon the crimson floor, legs crossed, gaze distant, but undeniable.
He was different. Not human, not beast, not god—something beyond all three. His form flickered between states, his warhammer resting at his side, shifting between all weapons he had mastered.
His presence alone made Luciel feel insignificant.
Luciel tried to move. He tried to speak. But he couldn't.
Because this wasn't just a vision.
Ethan Smith was beyond him.