The man lifted his blade.
And he smiled.
Heat rippled through the air, distorting the very fabric of reality. The ground beneath his feet cracked, glowing with molten embers. The Śūnyayoma recoiled instinctively. It had no eyes, no true senses, yet at this moment—it felt fear.
The man exhaled. Flames erupted from his body.
His once-dark coat burned away, revealing intricate Rune sigils carved into his skin. His muscles tensed, glowing like molten steel, as raw heat radiated from his core.
"Astaroth," he murmured.
The world responded.
A low, guttural laugh echoed in his mind. A voice—ancient, amused, and terrifying—whispered into his soul.
"Finally… after several years, you finally called upon me.
It's been a while, old friend." The man muttered.
Pillars of fire burst from the ground, consuming everything in a swirling inferno. The surrounding buildings melted in an instant. The very oxygen ignited, turning the battlefield into a burning void where only one being held dominion.
The Śūnyayoma screeched, its body melting away from the intense heat. Its regenerative flesh began to bubble and blacken, the edges of its monstrous form burning away faster than it could heal.
The man raised his sword, now transformed—the blade looked as if it had already been through a dozen battles, with burn marks and sparks of flame dancing off it. It seemed to be corroding, giving off an ominous aura.
"Flame of Astaroth: First Invocation—Hell's Dominion."
With a single step, he vanished.
Then—
A blazing arc of destruction split the battlefield.
The Śūnyayoma's right wing was incinerated before it could react. Its entire right side was seared away, leaving nothing but smoking, charred remnants. The air howled as the fire consumed everything, creating a vacuum that made the slums feel like a dying world.
The beast reeled, its remaining arms thrashing wildly, trying to crush him.
The man didn't retreat.
He lunged forward, his sword carving through the Śūnyayoma's body like an executioner. Every strike ignited a new inferno, sending torrents of hellfire surging through its monstrous form.
The Śūnyayoma screamed.
It regenerated.
And he burned it again.
Again.
And again.
Each time it tried to heal, his flames devoured its existence. This was no ordinary fire—this was the power of Astaroth, Djinn of Eternal Flame. Djinns were incredibly powerful spirits that resided in the forsaken realm, often considered the very embodiment of destructive force. Prideful and ancient, these spirits wielded power beyond comprehension.
It didn't just burn flesh.
It burned concepts.
The Śūnyayoma staggered backward, its once formidable presence shrinking. Its very essence struggled to remain intact.
Pralaya, still watching from a distance, could hardly breathe. The heat was unbearable. His skin felt like it was peeling away from the sheer proximity to the battlefield. His mind struggled to process what was unfolding before his eyes.
"He's… burning it faster than it can regenerate," Pralaya whispered, his voice hoarse.
The Śūnyayoma, realizing its inevitable doom, let out one final, ear-splitting shriek.
It sacrificed its remaining arms, melting them into pure karmic energy. The energy coalesced into a single, black star above its head—a final attack, powerful enough to erase everything within miles.
The moment it finished charging—
It detonated.
A tidal wave of pure darkness surged outward. Space collapsed, swallowing everything in an endless abyss.
For a moment, all sound ceased.
The world was silent.
A pillar of white-hot fire erupted from the heart of the darkness.
It wasn't just fire anymore.
It was purification.
"Flame of Astaroth: Second Invocation—Sun-Eater."
The abyss itself ignited.
The black star of darkness collapsed into itself, devoured by the surging inferno. What was once an apocalyptic blast of destruction was now fuel for an even greater firestorm.
The Śūnyayoma had no time to scream.
The fire engulfed it.
Its body—was burned away into less than nothing.
No remains. No ashes. No karmic remnants.
It was erased.
Pralaya fell to his knees, trembling.
For several moments, the battlefield remained engulfed in silence, save for the low crackling of dying embers. The very air itself had been burned away, leaving behind a strange, surreal calm.
Then, footsteps.
The man emerged from the fading flames, the sword he had been holding now completely corroded, turned into dust, with heat and flames still intensifying around him.
Though his body was covered in soot and blood, his expression was unreadable—calm, as if none of this had mattered in the slightest.
Pralaya hurried toward him. Suddenly, the man shouted, "Don't come any closer, kid!"
"Is something wrong?" Pralaya asked.
"If you don't want to become nothing but ashes, just stay where you are."
The man concentrated inward, his eyes narrowing. Slowly, the heat and flames started to subside.
Pralaya felt the change in the environment as the temperature began to drop. The oppressive heat lifted, and he could finally breathe again.
The man opened his eyes. "Okay, you can come closer."
Pralaya ran up to him. "What was that about?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
The man's lips curled into a faint smirk. "That was the power of my Djinn, Astaroth."
Pralaya blinked, confused. "Djinn? What's a Djinn?"
The man looked at him, still smirking. "Let's just say they're very powerful spirits."
Pralaya, still unsatisfied, pressed on. "Why were you struggling to use the Djinn's power earlier?"
The man's expression darkened slightly. "Like I said, Djinn are extremely powerful spirits, but their power is incredibly unstable—especially for Astaroth. That's why I placed three seals to keep Astaroth's power locked away. Those seals are my three swords. Each sword is a layer of the seal."
Pralaya's eyes widened as he pieced it together. "So, because one of the swords was destroyed during the fight against the Śūnyayoma, it became harder to control the power."
"Exactly." The man nodded. "Right now, I'm using all my willpower to keep Astaroth's power in check."
Pralaya nodded, understanding more now but still feeling unsure.
The man's gaze hardened again. " we should get going, kid, with this amount of destruction, I'm sure the temple will soon send people to investigate. And kid…" He turned to Pralaya with a smirk. "You can stop calling me 'the Sword of Dharma.' My real name is Arun."