While two of the S-ranks were engaged with Alister's avatars, Thomas stood alone against the man himself.

He knew that holding back even a fraction of his strength could mean death.

With a single thought, his black steed dissolved into the air. He landed heavily on the platform, slamming the tip of his lance into the ground. All around him, shadowy portals cracked open like wounds in space, encircling the battlefield. From their depths, flames surged upward—violent, red-black fire that scorched the earth and sky alike.

"This is the fire of Hell itself!" he roared toward the Pope.

But Alister was unmoved. With grace and finality, he raised his staff, a weapon of pure crystallized light, and fired a blinding beam toward Thomas.

Thomas responded without hesitation. His shield came up, and one of the shadow portals snapped open across its surface. The beam was absorbed entirely, swallowed into the void.

The moment the shield dimmed, a portal on his lance flared to life. It discharged a concentrated beam of shadow—a dark mirror to the Pope's light—hurtling it back toward him.

But Alister deflected it effortlessly, the attack dissipating against an unseen field.

"So this is your power," he said, voice calm. "Absorption. Redirection. You open rifts into a place even the gods avoid… You've grown stronger, Thomas."

"It doesn't sound like a compliment coming from you" Thomas said coldly.

---

Elsewhere on the battlefield, Iralian was growing irritated.

The avatar facing her wasn't powerful enough to defeat her—but it was fast. Too fast. Most of her attacks failed to land. And every missed blow chipped away at her patience.

After a fierce exchange, she paused, raised her hand, and cast her gaze downward. The void that pooled across the shattered platform rippled—then hundreds of void-born tentacles erupted from it, lashing upward like a forest of serpents.

The avatar danced between them, dodging with unnatural grace. But as it cleared the last strike and emerged in open space—_exactly where she wanted it_—Iralian met it head-on.

From her hands, two massive tentacles, thicker and darker than the rest, coiled forward and wrapped tightly around the avatar.

Her eyes narrowed, and a low hum vibrated through the air as void energy began gathering between her horns.

After a few seconds, the energy solidified into a dark sphere. Then, in a flash, she released it—a devastating beam of pure void struck the avatar point-blank.

It tried to defend with its eight radiant wings, but it wasn't enough. The power tore through the avatar—and the statues behind it. It didn't stop there. The attack blasted upward, shattering through the Holy Cathedral's defense array like glass, leaving a massive hole in the sky itself.

---

On another front, Clementia moved like a ghost through the chaos.

The avatar opposing her attacked with relentless speed—but to her, it was like watching falling leaves. She dodged each strike with ease, her movements effortless and calm, as though she were dancing through still air.

After several minutes, she raised her hand skyward.

Above them, the clouds swirled unnaturally and began to condense. A massive silver-gray formation shaped itself like a divine breath. From it, snowflakes began to fall—each one shimmering with a subtle, unnatural glow.

The avatar didn't falter, unfazed by the snow, and lunged in again with full speed. But just as its hand neared her, a single snowflake touched its skin—and immediately transformed into solid ice, spreading rapidly across the limb.

"Whatever these snowflakes touch," she said softly, "turns to crystalized ruin."

The avatar barely had time to react before its entire body was overtaken. One by one, statues, stone, and Domain alike froze beneath her cloud. And unlike any ordinary frost, this ice did not preserve—it shattered everything it consumed.

For a breath, silence reigned.

Then the battlefield trembled—each S-rank's clash echoing like thunder across the realm.

...

As the two avatars were destroyed, their fragments of divine light drifted through the air like glowing embers—slowly converging toward Alister.

The remnants seeped into his body, and his form began to change.

Sensing the immense danger, Thomas raised his lance toward the Pope. The surrounding shadow portals immediately rotated skyward, and from them erupted torrents of Hellfire and writhing shadows. The combined onslaught thundered through the air, colliding with the Pope in an explosion that far surpassed even his devastating Blazing Sun spell.

But as the smoke and ash cleared, the three S-ranks beheld Alister's new form.

He was glowing with unbearable brilliance. Ten radiant wings—five on each side—spread wide behind him, casting divine light in all directions. He no longer looked like a man. He looked like a god.

Alister slowly raised both arms as though offering a solemn prayer. In that moment, from every corner of his Domain, beams of light surged forth—sacred, absolute, and all-consuming. In seconds, all shadow, ice, and void energies were obliterated, wiped clean by the brilliance of divine authority.

He was preparing to strike—when suddenly, a portal opened near Thomas. From it stepped a man in a sharp black suit, adjusting his cuffs with a sigh.

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"You know how hard it was to finally make it here?" he muttered, glancing around. "Thanks to Iralian, a hole opened in that ridiculous divine veil."

Thomas turned. "Lucius, did you bring it?"

The newcomer was none other than Lucius Dimont, the leader of the vampires.

"Of course. It wasn't difficult to locate—Nikolaus was a great help," he replied, reaching into a hidden compartment in his jacket and retrieving a golden box, pulsing faintly with power.

Alister's voice echoed, laced with divine venom. "Lucius Dimont, you shall perish with them."

Lucius raised a casual hand. "Hey now, I'm just a messenger," he said with a grin.

One of Alister's wings fired a blazing laser toward him—but Thomas stepped forward and blocked it with his shield.

"Consider your debt paid," Thomas said firmly.

Lucius smirked. "Then I'll leave you to it." Another portal opened behind him, and with a graceful step, he vanished just as suddenly as he had appeared.

Thomas turned back to the Pope. "You didn't think we came unprepared… did you?"

Suddenly, new shadow portals opened around him—nine of them.

From each portal, an artifact emerged, floating into the air: a golden sword, an ancient harp, and seven other sacred relics, each pulsing with a celestial aura. These were the legendary Angels of Light's artifacts.

Alister narrowed his eyes. "What do you plan to do with those?"

Thomas gave a knowing smile. "You'll see soon."

He began chanting in a deep, resonant voice. The Ten artifacts moved into formation, circling him. A colossal magic circle manifested beneath them, glowing with transcendent energy.

Alister's wings blazed again—beams of divine light launched toward Thomas—but Iralian and Clementia moved as one, intercepting and shielding him from harm.

With a furious snarl, Alister unleashed a second barrage, more powerful than the first. But at that very moment, Thomas's chant reached its climax.

A beam of holy light erupted from the center of the magic circle—meeting the Pope's assault head-on and halting it effortlessly. As the radiant surge faded, a new presence emerged.

A towering figure stood within the circle: a man clad in golden armor, wielding a massive shield in one hand and a sword in the other. His presence was imposing—his aura, divine.

Alister's expression darkened. He recognized that figure all too well.

Maverick Nightbreaker—once one of the great leaders of the Kingdom of Light. A legend from a bygone age, a warrior who had mysteriously vanished without a trace. In his time, he had held the impossible rank of S3—a tier now only he hold.

But Maverick's return was no triumph of resurrection. His hollow, lifeless eyes stared forward without emotion, devoid of purpose or humanity. An empty vessel. A sacred soul forced back into service—a cruel display of the God of Light's tyranny.

Alister's jaw tightened. Without a word, his form blurred—and in the blink of an eye, he was gone. He reappeared in front of Maverick instantly, a searing flame igniting at the tip of his radiant staff.

"Blazing Sun."

A surge of divine fire and light erupted, engulfing the skies in a storm of brilliance. The world held its breath beneath the blinding radiance. But when the flames faded…

Maverick still stood, shield raised.

He had taken the full force of Blazing Sun—and didn't even flinch.

The two figures vanished again, and this time they reappeared high above—clashing mid-air. Their weapons struck with such force that a shockwave of divine light rippled across the heavens, shattering clouds and shaking the sky itself.

They moved with impossible speed, flickering in and out of existence, their duel cascading across the sky like a storm of celestial fury—neither giving ground.

And then The shadows around Thomas thickened, swirling like a living storm. With a battle cry, he leapt upward, joining the fray.

A heartbeat later, Iralian soared after him, her horns glowing with void energy. Clementia followed close behind, snowflakes trailing in her wake like falling stars.

Together, the three of them joined Maverick in the sky—now surrounding Alister from all sides. The Pope now faced four S ranks. Maverick, the once-lost S3, Thomas, the Abyssal knight, S2, Iralian, Void Caller, S1, Clementia, The Icethrone Empress, S1.

The skies above the capital became a sacred battlefield, the clash of S ranks echoing across the world.

The sky above the capital fractured like glass. At the center hovered Pope Alister, his ten radiant wings spread wide, light bleeding from him like divine fire. His eyes burned with the authority of a god. Below and around him, four figures moved into position.

"Then perish beneath the light." Alister's voice thundered like a choir.

He raised his staff. Ten beams of pure radiance exploded outward — one from each wing.

Maverick raised his golden shield.

"Sanctum Aegis."

The beams hit him first, but the ancient S3 held steady. His shield absorbed the power with a ringing sound like cracked bells, converting it into kinetic force. He rushed forward, sword glowing, clashing with Alister in a blinding collision of blade and staff.

Alister spun midair, casting a sigil above Maverick.

"Solar Judgment."

It detonated. But just before impact Thomas stepped in.

His lance pierced space. "Abyssal Gate."

Dozens of shadow-portals erupted around him, sucking in the solar fire. On his command, they realigned above Alister And released the energy back at him, multiplied and infused with hellfire.

Alister grunted and blocked with a wing, but scorch marks burned across his robe.

Suddenly the air shimmered. Iralian appeared behind Alister, her horns glowing, eyes pure void. She extended her hand, and from beneath his feet, massive tentacles of void lunged upward, dragging at his legs.

Alister snarled, wings flaring "Judgment Pulse!"

A burst of anti-void light exploded from him, burning the tendrils away. But as he did Clementia descended like a falling star. Her arm raised, and from above, a silver cloud bloomed across the sky. Snowflakes fell unnaturally slow, sparkling with deadly stillness.

One landed on Alister's shoulder. In an instant, it turned to solid crystal, locking his wings in place.

"All things stop in my domain." Clementia's voice was cold and eternal.

Alister moved to break the ice—But Maverick was already there, slamming his shield into Alister's chest. The pope was knocked backward, ice forming along his robes.

His ten wings glowed blinding white. He roared.

"True Miracle: Heaven's Spear."

The air split. Ten massive spears of light formed above him and hurled themselves toward each fighter.

Maverick took his with the shield and grunted. Thomas opened a rift to absorb his. Clementia froze hers in midair and Iralian let the void take hers in.

They converged again. This time, all four attacked together. Maverick with a frontal assault, sword crackling. Thomas launching amplified hellfire from portals. Iralian binding the Pope's limbs with void chains and Clementia spreading the freezing mist across the battlefield.

Caught in the crossfire, Alister roared, wings dimming slightly under the relentless onslaught. For the first time, He bled. But he was still standing.

"Do you see what happens when you don't listen, Alister?" The voice echoed from Maverick's mouth, but it was not his own. It was deeper, older — inhuman. The voice of something ancient and sovereign.

Alister, panting and bloodied, raised his head to meet the blazing gaze of the god now speaking through the body of a legend.

His lip curled in contempt. "You call yourself the God of Light, Yet you command hellfire, void, and every corrupted force imaginable. Doesn't that strike you as… absurd?"

The figure that had once been Maverick looked down at him.

"I am God. All forces bend to my will. Darkness, light, fire, void—they are but tools in my hand."

Alister barked a laugh—raw, bitter.

"Such a god you are." He took a breath. His voice fell to a low, venomous growl. "Betrayal."

That one word pierced the sky. The face of Maverick twisted. It contorted with such fury that the air around him began to distort. A tsunami of light burst from his body, burning so intensely that even Iralian and Clementia had to shield their eyes.

Most of The Holy Cathedral's defenses shattered in the shockwave. Blood streaked down from Alister's eyes, but still he stared into the blinding divinity, unflinching.

He gritted his teeth, raised his staff skyward, and spoke in a voice that seemed to reach across realms.

"Let's end this… Prince of Man."

The fury in Maverick's face deepened.

But then Alister whispered:

"Judgment Day."

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