Immortal Slayer.
An ability that defied reason, that made a mockery of death itself.
It was unlike any other power in existence. A rebirth forged not in mercy, but in carnage—a resurrection that did not merely restore life, but elevated it. Vorgath Ironmaw had died. And yet, he stood before me reborn, the molten crown upon his head gleaming with a power too vast, too overwhelming.
Too much power.
"Luna!" I called, and in an instant, her galaxy-filled eyes locked onto mine. No further words were needed. We had been fighting together for too long, our instincts honed, our thoughts aligned.
My calculations had been wrong.
I braced myself as his Ruin Axe fell, carving through space itself as though it were brittle glass.
And then— everything shattered.
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Rin's breath came heavy as she crushed the Vice Cult Leader of the Savage Communion in her grip. The woman let out a final, broken gasp before the sickening crack of bone echoed in the air. Rin let the corpse fall, exhaling sharply.
"Finally," she muttered. "She wouldn't die."
She turned her gaze toward the golden barrier that separated Arthur's Domain from the outside world, her heartbeat quickening. She could feel the battle raging within, its force pressing against her senses like a storm on the horizon.
'I hope he's okay.'
But there was no time to worry. The others were still fighting.
Rin turned, her sharp eyes flickering across the battlefield.
Even now, Rachel, Cecilia, and Seraphina overwhelmed their respective opponents. These were not weaklings—they were warriors, champions of their own kind. And yet, they were outclassed.
The Ogre Prince fell beneath Rachel's onslaught of radiant spells, his massive form crumbling as divine light seared through his flesh. His strength meant nothing when pitted against the Saintess, a healer who could both heal and destroy with equal mastery.
The Orc Chieftain barely managed to hold himself together beneath Cecilia's magic, his roars becoming strangled cries as his body numbed, slowed, and finally, shattered.
The Vice Chieftain of the orcs fared no better. Seraphina's blade, imbued with ice magic, sliced through his defenses with ease, cutting through flesh like parchment.
And yet—
A terrible, monstrous sensation crawled up Rin's spine.
Her attention snapped toward the horizon.
A presence. A battle. A force unlike anything she had ever encountered.
She shuddered.
'A monster like that exists in this world?'
Far beyond them, amidst the fractured sky, a woman danced upon the air itself, her movements effortless, graceful, terrifying.
Pink hair flowed like silk in the wind, her jade-green eyes gleaming with something ancient, something omniscient. Even from this distance, Rin felt it—the presence of Alyssara Velcroix.
And then, in that single moment, the woman turned her gaze.
Their eyes met.
Rin stiffened.
An instinct, deep and primal, surged through her—a prey's recognition of a predator. A chill colder than any ice magic ran through her veins, her breath hitched in her throat, and without meaning to, she looked away.
Then, something worse happened.
Arthur's Domain shattered.
The golden throne room of his Divine Emperor's Throne imploded into nothingness, its protective boundary disintegrating like dust in the wind.
And Arthur—
—was sent flying.
"Arthur!" Rachel screamed, her voice cracking.
Cecilia reacted instantly, her magic flaring as she caught him mid-air, suspending his body in a protective current. Rachel's light magic surged forward, wrapping around him, desperate, urgent.
Rin's heart pounded.
'Why isn't he regenerating?'
"His soul was hit," Cecilia said, her voice grim.
Rachel gritted her teeth, pouring every ounce of her magic into his wounds. She wasn't just healing flesh—she was mending his very essence, his existence itself. Her Saintess Gift, divine and absolute, worked tirelessly to undo the damage.
But then, a new presence emerged.
A presence heavier than before. Darker.
Rin swallowed hard and slowly turned.
The air itself trembled, thick with shuddering waves of mana and black mana, oppressive and monstrous in their intensity.
A figure walked forward.
His steps were slow, methodical, his presence towering. His molten crown burned ever brighter, flames licking at the air as if they would consume the world itself. His Infernal Armis pulsed, its hunger for carnage yet unsated.
Vorgath didn't spare a glance at the four girls or the crumpled form of Arthur, still being healed by Rachel's light magic. His molten crown burned fiercely, the Infernal Armis brimming with destructive intent, but his focus wasn't on the battlefield anymore.
His gaze turned upward.
Alyssara Velcroix smiled from the heavens above.
And then, without a sound, without a gesture, the world twisted around him.
In an instant, Vorgath found himself somewhere else entirely.
The air here was thick and silent, heavy with a presence that wasn't his own. A new space, vast yet intimate, wrapped him in threads of eerie stillness.
It was Alyssara's world.
She stood before him, her crimson threads woven through the air like veins of molten fire, glistening with power. Her jade-green eyes glinted with dangerous curiosity, her pink hair cascading like rivers of silk.
Vorgath's power surged, black mana and mana infused with the relentless essence of carnage roaring out of him. The Infernal Armis amplified his presence, the energy expanding outward, attempting to dominate the space.
For a moment, it seemed like the molten crown might engulf even her realm.
Then, everything stopped.
Crimson threads shot out from every corner of the space, piercing his aura like needles through fabric. They wrapped around his expanding energy, strangling it, unraveling his intent. The force of his Axe Unity roared in defiance, the Infernal Armis burning brighter, but it wasn't enough. The threads coiled tighter, slicing through his power, deflecting it like an errant breeze.
"Incredible," Alyssara said, her voice soft but resonating with amusement. Her smile widened as she tilted her head, studying him like one might examine a fascinating insect. "With the Infernal Armis… you've taken great strides, Vorgath. You've managed to brush against the power of a demigod."
Her tone was one of praise, but there was no mistaking the condescension that laced her words. To her, his power was impressive in the way a child's first steps might be impressive—admirable but insignificant in the face of her own mastery.
Vorgath met her gaze, his molten eyes narrowing. "Yet you stand above it," he admitted, his voice even, though his grip tightened on the Ruin Axe.
Her smile softened slightly, almost pitying. "You've grown, but evolution has its limits. It's still bound by the capacity of the one evolving," she replied. Her jade eyes glimmered with thought, distant but sharp. "It would be hard for him, wouldn't it?" she muttered to herself, her voice just above a whisper.
Before he could question her meaning, the space splintered. The threads dissolved, the weight of her presence lifted, and in an instant, Vorgath was back in the world outside.
He blinked, the flicker of confusion quickly giving way to understanding. His molten crown burned brighter as he gripped the Ruin Axe. "An illusion," he muttered, though the word felt insufficient to describe what he had just experienced.
As if to punctuate his thought, the air shifted around him.
Plum blossoms appeared, drifting through the battlefield in a delicate cascade. But they were not the soft pink hues of life; these blossoms were ice blue, shimmering with a cold brilliance that made the very air shudder.
Vorgath's molten eyes narrowed.
This was no illusion.
The blossoms swirled around him, their beauty masking the deadly precision of their purpose. Each petal carried the chill of ice astral energy, cutting through the air with sharp, deliberate movements. They closed in on him, forcing him to move, to react.
And then she stepped forward.
Seraphina's sword gleamed in her hand, the blade's edge glowing with the frost of her astral energy. Her ice-blue eyes were calm, focused, as if the carnage around her didn't exist. The plum blossoms obeyed her will, converging on Vorgath like an unrelenting tide.
"Violet Mist Divine Art," she murmured, her voice as soft as the breeze that carried her petals. This wasn't the original art of Mount Hua. This was her own creation, forged from her mastery and the essence of her ice.
"Third movement," she said, her gaze fixed on Vorgath. "Teal Sunset."
The air froze as the blossoms gathered, forming an ethereal wave of icy destruction. It was a moment of perfect balance, the beauty of the blossoms and the chill of death entwined in perfect harmony. It was a movement born from the intersection of Mount Hua's concept of blossoming and Seraphina's mastery of ice astral energy.
Vorgath's molten crown flared as he raised his Ruin Axe, black mana and mana surging around him in a protective storm. He roared, swinging the axe in a wide arc, the molten energy cleaving through the first wave of blossoms.