Azreal laid lifeless on the ground as his soul drifted deeper… into the abyss.

Everything around him was pitch black until the silence broke with a familiar voice, one that rang sharply in his ears.

He opened his eyes slowly.

He found himself in a crimson room, lying on the floor. The air was hot, the walls glowed faintly like burning coals. He stood up, dusting himself off, and looked around.

"…I'm back here again," he muttered.

A voice echoed from above, cold and arrogant.

"You lost. And so pathetically."

Azreal looked up at the throne high above the room.

His eyes narrowed. "Lucifer."

Lucifer leaned back lazily on his dark throne, resting his chin on his hand with a casual smirk. "Yo."

Azreal frowned. "Why am I here?"

Lucifer waved a hand. "Don't ask me. I'm just disappointed. You let that naming maniac finish you off so easily. Honestly, I'm ashamed we even look alike."

Azreal blinked. "Naming maniac?"

Lucifer scoffed. "Zarion. First, it was Y'tharion. Then Sin. Then Death. At first, we thought Sin and Death made up Y'tharion. But nooo, turns out even Y'tharion was a fake name. Now all three are just parts of this final name—Zarion." He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, how many names does this guy need? Did he hate the name his mama gave him or what? I swear, it's so confusing. But the worst part… you let that identity-crisis freak beat you. I can't stand you."

Azreal gave a dry smile. "What do you know? I'm dead. Guess you'll have to get used to me being here."

Lucifer's smile faded. "I don't mind. I'll just kill you myself."

Suddenly, a distant scream pierced through the room.

Azreal's eyes widened. "What was that?"

Pain shot through his chest. He fell to his knees, clutching his heart. Lucifer winced, doing the same. Both of their marks burned—bright and angry. Their eyes glowed.

An image of Aria formed in their minds.

Azreal gasped. "She's in trouble!"

He stood back up, chest heaving. "Lucifer! How do I get back?!"

Lucifer laughed. "You're dead, dumbass. Your soul's already fading. It's only a matter of time before you disappear for good."

Azreal shouted, "There has to be a way!"

He looked around, panic rising.

Lucifer crossed his arms. "There is a way…"

Azreal's head shot up. "Then tell me!"

Lucifer appeared right in front of him in a flash, causing Azreal to flinch.

He placed two fingers on the mark glowing on Azreal's chest. "You better save her… or I'll kill you myself."

Azreal looked confused. "Wait, what are you—"

Lucifer suddenly dug his fingers deep into the mark.

Azreal screamed as black fog burst out, wrapping around them both. Their auras twisted. Merged.

Lucifer's voice echoed, dark and calm.

"For now… we're one."

---

Back to Reality

Azreal's chest thumped violently. His head twitched. His eyes snapped open, glowing deep crimson.

A purple aura flared around his body.

Lines of energy reconnected his head to his body. His severed arms floated up and reattached with purple streaks holding them like thread. His mark glowed beneath his torn clothes—stretching up the right side of his face.

It formed into the shape of a black sun.

Elsewhere on the battlefield, Zarion gently laid Aria down. He whispered, "Sleep… at least until my goal is complete."

He turned to walk away—

WHOOSH.

A dark blur zipped past him.

SLASH.

His hand was torn off.

Blood splattered onto the ground.

Zarion stopped in shock, clutching the stump, eyes wide. A dark, ominous aura flared behind him.

He turned slowly.

And there—standing tall, soaked in blood, glowing with power—was Azreal.

Azreal's back faced Zarion. In his right hand… was Zarion's severed limb.

Azreal looked down at it with no expression, then let it go.

The hand disintegrated into ash mid-air.

He turned to face Zarion. Crimson eyes blazing. A wicked grin stretched across his face.

"Yo."

Zarion stumbled back. "How… how are you alive?! I saw it. I cut your head off!"

Azreal stepped forward. "Yeah. I came back from the dead."

Zarion's eyes locked onto the glowing black sun mark. His expression darkened. "That mark… they

said you had it."

"You taking my hand means nothing," Zarion growled, eyes burning with rage. Black smoke surged from the stump, writhing like a living thing as flesh, muscle, and bone reformed — in seconds, his hand was fully restored.

If you came back . I just have to send you back to the land of the dead!"

He disappeared and reappeared behind Azreal, hurling a powerful punch.

Azreal didn't flinch. He raised his hand—caught the punch.

Zarion smirked. "Got you."

He slashed Azreal's hand clean off with a single swipe and jumped back.

"That's one down—"

But before the hand hit the ground, purple flames zipped out like lightning, pulling it back. It reattached instantly, like nothing had happened.

Zarion's eyes widened. "Regeneration…?! No, that's something else…"

Azreal cracked his knuckles.

Zarion raised his hand to speak—then paused.

Flaming orange feathers fell from the sky.

The sky turned grey. Time froze.

Zarion couldn't move.

Azreal calmly walked past him, his steps slow and quiet.

The feathers vanished. Time resumed.

Zarion blinked—Azreal was gone.

"What…? Where—?"

Then he heard it.

A sound.

"…Behind me."

He turned around fast.

Azreal was kneeling beside Aria, gently touching her face.

"She's still alive," he said softly.

He snapped his fingers.

A small crimson gate opened beside him.

He lifted Aria in his arms and placed her inside. The gate sealed shut and vanished.

Azreal stood slowly and turned to face Zarion.

Zarion grinned. "Overconfident now, are we?"

He pointed. "Just now, you used Severed Universe. I didn't move. You had the chance to finish me off—and you wasted it. For a girl."

Azreal stared blankly.

Zarion clenched his fists. "You lost your only shot to end this."

Azreal's voice was calm. "Are you done talking?"

Zarion's face twitched in rage.

"I see… you're arrogant now."

Their auras clashed.

The air itself screamed.

Then—

BOOM!

They vanished.

A sonic boom shattered the ground. Mountains in the distance cracked from the force alone. Shockwaves split the sky.

They collided mid-air—fist to fist—the impact lighting up the world like a second sun. Wind exploded in every direction. Dust was erased. Time seemed to pause.

BOOM!!

They vanished again.

Another clash—fist to fist.

Then another.

And another.

Each time their fists met, the earth beneath them broke a little more. The sky above them was torn apart for miles. Space around them rippled, unable to keep up.

Azreal ducked under a right hook, countered with a rising uppercut.

CRACK!

It connected—Zarion's head snapped back, shock on his face as blood splashed out of his nose.

He flipped mid-air, skidding across the air like it was solid ground. He wiped the blood, stunned.

"He hit me…" Zarion whispered. "He's fast… no—he's faster than me."

He clenched his fists.

"HOW?!"

Azreal didn't respond. He raised his fists again.

Zarion charged.

Their fists met again—but this time the force was stronger.

The ground beneath them cracked open, molten lava bubbling to the surface from sheer pressure.

Flames exploded from their knuckles.

The heat was unbearable.

Their fists began to glow from the friction—skin turning red, veins pulsing. Each punch generated heat like the core of a dying star.

Azreal's next blow tore through the sound barrier.

BAM!

Zarion's chest cracked. His ribs shattered inward. Blood sprayed from his mouth.

He flew back—but Azreal didn't stop.

He appeared above him mid-fall, and—

BAM!

Another punch to the gut.

CRASH!

Zarion slammed into the ground, cratering the battlefield, debris flying in all directions like a meteor strike.

Azreal landed a moment later.

Zarion struggled to his feet, panting, his golden armor scorched, cracked, blood dripping from his mouth.

Azreal walked toward him slowly, each step shaking the earth. Flames danced at his back like wings.

Zarion growled, his body burning brighter, aura surging.

He screamed, "I AM A GOD!"

He dashed forward, faster than light, driving his fist at Azreal's face.

Azreal's eyes narrowed.

He caught it.

Zarion's face twisted in disbelief.

Azreal squeezed.

Zarion winced in pain.

Then—

Azreal punched with his other hand.

Straight into Zarion's stomach.

The punch went through the golden energy shielding him.

Zarion coughed blood, eyes wide.

Azreal's voice was calm. Cold.

"You talk too much."

He spun, kicked Zarion across the field.

CRASH!

Zarion skipped across stone like a ragdoll, stopping at the edge of a cliff, coughing.

His vision blurred.

His arms were trembling.

His hands were burning—literally. Red, searing heat licked up to his forearms. Sparks danced off his fingers. It wasn't just the punches. It was the heat. The friction.

They were punching each other so hard and fast the air itself was igniting.

Both of them had started to burn.

Azreal appeared again in front of him, hair swaying, steam rising from his back. His right fist was scorched, bleeding—but steady.

Zarion gritted his teeth and threw one last punch.

Azreal did too.

BOOOOOM!!!

Fists collided again—this time, the impact was so violent a pillar of fire erupted from the clash, ripping upward like a volcano. The red sky itself rippled with blinding light, as if the very air was tearing apart. The battlefield quaked—jagged cracks split across the scorched ground, fire and ash bursting from them, forcing the hell guards, who were fighting in a distance to stumble back as the shockwave tore through the wasteland.

Zarion was launched through the mountain.

Azreal dropped to one knee, breathing heavily, his hand burned, but his aura—his will—still burning stronger.

Each punch that rang out between Azreal and Zarion bent the air, shook the scorched ground, and turned the heat around them into a living storm.

Their fists collided again—BOOM!—but this time Azreal got under Zarion's guard. With a sharp grunt, he drove his fist straight into Zarion's ribs.

CRACK!

Zarion coughed blood as he staggered backward. His feet dragged trenches in the black stone.

With a growl, Zarion flared his aura. Golden-red flames spiraled around him, his eyes wild.

He raised his arm and shouted—

"CHAINED WRATH!"

A flaming blade forged from the core of his hellfire spun into existence, held tightly by glowing chains wrapped around his wrist. The weapon was massive, glowing like a sun in his hands. He roared and swung it down at Azreal.

But Azreal didn't flinch.

Instead… he let himself fall—like his body had suddenly obeyed gravity backwards—headfirst, weightless.

The chained blade swung just inches above his face, tearing through the air with a hellish screech.

Azreal dropped completely—then vanished.

WHOOSH—

A few meters ahead, Azreal reappeared, hovering upside down in the sky.

His face was calm.

His glowing crimson eyes stared straight at Zarion.

He floated like a ghost, face down, body inverted, fingers pressed together in focus. His long blood-soaked hair drifted downward as if gravity had flipped just for him.

Zarion gritted his teeth. "What now…?"

But Azreal wasn't looking at him.

He was inside his mind.

A swirl of red… a shimmer of blue.

Azreal's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a low mutter.

"Red destroys… Blue erases phenomenon…" His teeth clenched, the heat surging through his veins. "But if destruction and denial… become one—"

The flames convulsed violently, spinning, colliding, screaming against each other. Sparks cracked the air like lightning, the raw force threatening to tear his body apart from the inside out.

And yet—through sheer will—they began to weave together. Two impossibilities forced into harmony.

The air warped. Reality bent.

The color shifted.

Not red. Not blue.

Purple.

A flame unlike any other was born, trembling at his fingertip. Small, but crushing—dense enough to rattle the world, heavy enough to make the ground itself shudder in fear.

Azreal's lips curved into the faintest smirk, eyes burning with cold resolve.

"A new flame is born."

Azreal's eyes narrowed.

He whispered:

"Null Purple".

With a mere flick, the orb left his finger.

It didn't fly—it erased everything between itself and Zarion. The space between them folded inward, collapsing in silence before erupting outward in violent distortion.

Zarion snarled, raising his chained blade, flames roaring to life.

CRAAAAASH!!!

The blade splintered instantly—reduced to nothing under the weight of purple fire.

The orb slammed into his chest.

For a split second, silence.

Then—

BOOOOOOOOOM!!!

A blinding eruption swallowed Zarion whole, purple flames tearing through flesh, bone, and divinity alike. The pressure crushed the air, shockwaves splitting the battlefield. The ground fractured open, entire slabs of rock suspended midair before disintegrating into ash.

Zarion's scream was drowned out as he was launched downward, crashing like a meteor.

The impact carved a colossal crater into hell's scarred land, purple fire pillars spiraling upward like writhing dragons. Ash clouds twisted into a storm, blotting out what little light remained.

Above it all, Azreal hovered, upside down, eyes glinting cold and merciless.

As the smoke thinned… there he was.

Zarion, sprawled at the crater's center. His chest was nearly hollowed out, a gaping wound that smoked and sizzled, blood gushing endlessly. His divine energy sputtered like a dying ember.

He was broken.

Azreal slowly turned right-side up.

He raised his arm high above his head—fingers spread.

The sky darkened.

Then—

FWOOM—

A massive sphere began to form above his palm—black and red flames swirling together, growing larger and larger until it eclipsed the entire battlefield like a dark sun. Its surface cracked with lightning. The heat warped the air. Time felt like it paused.

Even Hell itself seemed to go silent.

Zarion, lying broken on the ground, looked up at the ball.

His eyes widened.

"...No..."

Azreal's voice echoed through the still air.

But he didn't speak a word.

And the sun of destruction hovered above them all.

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