For a split second everything was quiet—too quiet. Then Vorathis' last words hung in the air: "Your end… begins now."
Before anyone could draw a breath, he was gone.
It wasn't a blink. It was as if the world itself ripped him out of place and shoved him through creation. The next sound was a crack of air—the kind that makes your teeth ache—and Velgrynd screamed.
She'd only taken one step forward before the strike hit. It wasn't a slow blow; it was a cut of wind and void that struck like a fist made of night. Velgrynd's body flew back, armor dented, hair singed by a cold that shouldn't exist in flame. She hit the earth hard and slid, coughing. Her eyes were bright with shock.
Around the ring, everyone froze. For a heartbeat no one understood what had happened.
"Velgrynd!" Veldora bellowed, already moving. His voice cut through the stunned silence like a bell. He was the only one whose eyes tracked the place where Vorathis had been and where he had gone—Veldora saw the afterimages, the tiny tears in space Vorathis left as footprints. Only one person on that field could follow that rhythm: a king who had learned to read storms.
Vorathis wasn't on the ground to be grappled. He was six yards away, and a dozen yards to the left, and then above them—everywhere the instant after the blow. He had moved like a thought. He hovered, cloaked in a dark pressure, looking toward Veldora as if he'd merely glanced over a crowd at a pawn he found interesting.
"Foolish mortals," Vorathis said, voice low and cold, like ice sliding over bone. "You celebrate a morsel and call it victory."
Then he smiled. Then the battle erupted.
Velzard rolled to her feet, frost trailing from her palms. Her breath came shallow, but sharp. "Cover her!" she shouted, already sending a filament of white ice toward Velgrynd to bind the wound. The magic stung, but it held.
Diablo was first off the line—always eager to close distance. He dashed forward through a ring of splintered monsters, black flames licking his gauntlets. "My lord!" he cried, voice fierce. He launched Judgement Chains—obsidian links that lash and bind—aimed at a shadowy shape Vorathis had blurred into. The chains wrapped around air and clanged uselessly; Vorathis stepped through them as though into mist.
Guy pivoted, sword flashing. He whirled a red-lined arc—Crimson Cut—that should have cleaved any man-sized target in two. It met not a body but a space where a body had been and parted the afterimage clean. Guy spat. "Damn—he edits distance."
Milim shot up into the sky, a comet with a smile. She dove at a phantom and punched—Starbreaker—sending a burst that should have shredded bone. It hit empty wind; the echo of her strike collapsed on air. She landed, teeth clenched. "Where'd he go?"
Testarossa flicked her wrists and silver sigils folded like knives. Her threads—Argent Tethers—snapped inward, seeking a pulse in the void. They brushed Vorathis once, like fingers on silk, and recoiled with static burn. "He distorts contact," she said, calm but furious. "Be careful. Aim for what he leaves behind, not where he is."
Ultima laughed, a sharp sound, and threw Pandora Blossoms—little orbs of corrosive charm that detonated on touch. They burned through a wave of lesser monsters but fizzled when they grazed the edges of Vorathis' aura. Carrera simply charged, grin broad, and punched apart a stonehound, then screamed, "I'll chew him up!" She ran, but Vorathis caught her mid-thunder—there, and gone, and there again—enough to force Carrera to skid and bite down a curse.
Vorathis moved like bad weather made into a weapon. He used tricks that were more than fast—he bent the rules.
Annihilant Stride — he vanished along a seam of silence and reappeared where the air felt wrong. The only way to sense it was by watching the space he patently had been. Those who chased the image swung through nothing.
Abyssal Thread — small, black sigils crawled along the ground from his footsteps. They grabbed hold of magic and refused it; Diablo's chains braided into knots and snapped when they touched those threads.
Crown of Six Wounds — the six sigils behind him spun outward in a ring, each acting like a small hammer of law. When they struck a defender they didn't just bruise flesh; they briefly rewrote the timing of the hit—muscles lagged, thoughts stuttered. Velzard felt the Crown graze her arm and for a second the world moved half a beat late.
He warped distance and delayed perception. That was his cruel trick: enemies thought they saw him and he was already behind them.
"Keep your distance!" Veldora roared, and in a single breath carved a protective arc through the air—Storm King's Mantle—a thin, humming shield that gave the defenders a tiny, precious sliver of predictability. The Mantle bent the Crown's timing enough for Guy to dodge a delayed hammer.
Vorathis answered with a low wave of dark pressure—Oblivion Sweep—that pushed outward. It didn't cut; it ate momentum. A charging monster simply stopped as if stepping into syrup. Diablo, who had leapt, found his boots stuck and had to tear free with hungry force. "He slows the world around him!" Diablo roared, forcing his way through.
They could not face him one-on-one. Vorathis was built to punish lone strikes. He overwhelmed with timing and misdirection, then finished with surgical hits.
Veldora did the hardest thing: he held the center. He danced with Vorathis in short, violent bursts—each of his steps a measured response to the Abyss-walker's weave. When Vorathis struck with Annihilant Stride, Veldora didn't chase the flash. He read the holes it left and moved into the seam's opposite edge. His sword slashes were wide, loud, and full of command—Sovereign Swipe—that forced Vorathis' afterimages to stutter.
"Do not give him space to play," Veldora barked. "Anchor your feet and trust the storm." His voice was a rope; it pulled the group together. Velzard tightened, stepping into a cold, iron rhythm. She planted blades of frost—Eternity Spikes—that erupted behind monsters trying to flank. Velgrynd, even wounded, rose like a flare; she answered with Phoenix Corridors, lanes of controlled fire that funneled the creatures away from the civilians.
"Protect the people!" Veldora ordered, and for every civilian that trembled in cellars, an invisible hand of wind or frost or flame guided the danger away.
But Vorathis killed option after option. He began to use Reality Rifts—short flares of space that opened to swallow a strike and spit back a cold spear. Guy's Crimson Arc hit one of those rifts and the blade blew out, returning as black frost that cut his cheek. Guy laughed, blood on his lips. "Clever bastard," he said, voice raw but steady. "He's a tornado with teeth."
Milim, furious, flew straight at him: a blur of fists and shrieks. She hammered out Starbreaker after Starbreaker, trying to find a rhythm he couldn't deny. A tendril of void slid out and caught her shoulder, tugging at her balance. She snarled, shoved it off, and grinned. "You like games? I'll play rougher!"
The battlefield trembles under the weight of their unleashed fury. The ice continent—once an endless stretch of white serenity—has become a torn landscape of shattered glaciers, magma fissures, and storms raging across the horizon.
Vorathis, the Eternal Phantom Sovereign, hovers in the sky, a grin carved across his face, cloak torn by the sheer force of clashing energies. His six phantom wings stretch wide, each feather burning with liquid shadow-light.
Velzard raises her hand, her icy aura fracturing the sky into crystalline patterns.
Slow-motion:
Her lips part, breath turning to frost as she utters:
「終焉を凍てつかせる——絶対零度の裁き!」 (Let the end be frozen—the judgment of Absolute Zero!)
A colossal glacier erupts beneath her, exploding upward into spears of ice.
The temperature plummets, freezing even the light itself—beams of color shatter into shards.
Vorathis merely swipes his hand, shattering the glacier with one strike, but his eyes gleam.
"Magnificent… your frost could kill entire realms. Yet here, it only feeds my hunger!"
Velgrynd screams, her voice cracking the sound barrier. Her body ignites with flames that twist into a phoenix of infernal crimson, her hair whipping like a burning comet tail.
She spins, gathering flames into a spiral, and drives her fist into Vorathis' guard.
**Boom—**the impact bends the air itself, fire devouring shadow.
The phoenix detonates into a supernova burst, hurling Vorathis back through three mountains.
Vorathis laughs as he emerges from the rubble, skin seared but regenerating instantly.
"Good! Burn me more! Let that fury never dim, Dragon of Crimson!"
Guy floats upward, his aura splitting into kaleidoscopic streams of chaos. His voice is calm, yet cutting:
「全てを呑み込む…無限の災禍よ,解き放て.」
(Devour everything… Infinite Calamity, be unleashed.)
He clenches his fist. Reality itself twists—sky becomes sea, sea becomes fire.
Chaos beams spiral into a black-violet dragon head that lunges at Vorathis, jaws snapping entire chunks of space into nothingness.
The world screams as existence tries to stitch itself back together.
Vorathis' grin widens. He sidesteps the dragon by folding space, then counters with a palm strike that bends Guy's chaos back onto him.
"Chaos that devours chaos… splendid trick. But tell me, Monarch—how far will you bend before you break?"
Milim clenches her fists, her pupils narrowing to draconic slits. She slams her foot into the ground—a shockwave flattens everything for kilometers.
Slow-motion close-up:
Her body glows gold and blue, energy crackling like divine thunder.
She pulls back her fist, aura wrapping around it like a miniature sun.
「ドラゴ・バスター——究極の一撃!」 (Drago Buster—Ultimate Strike!)
She rockets forward faster than light, fist colliding with Vorathis' chest.
Time itself halts. The screen turns white.
Vorathis is sent spiraling through the atmosphere, crashing back down like a comet.
Yet when the smoke clears, he's laughing—blood dripping from his mouth.
"Yes! YES! That's it, little Dragon Princess! More! Show me your storm until your heart burns dry!"
Diablo bows his head, whispering:
「主よ,この力,解き放たせていただきます…」
(My lord, permit me to unseal this power…)
His black flames spiral upward, transforming into a towering inferno shaped like a demon's crown.
He thrusts his hand, and abyssal chains erupt from the void, wrapping Vorathis' limbs.
Each chain pulses with billions of screams—the voices of consumed souls.
Vorathis chuckles as the chains bite into him.
"Oh? The Abyss itself shackles me? Delightful! But tell me… will you bind me, or will I bind you?"
The chains shatter—BOOM—sending Diablo crashing back, but his grin mirrors Vorathis'.
Her calm smile fades, replaced by sharp intensity. She raises her arm, white flames spiraling upward, devouring oxygen, light, and even sound.
With a flick of her wrist, the flames condense into a sword of pure white fire.
She dashes, blade carving arcs that disintegrate everything in their path.
Each swing cracks the earth like glass.
Vorathis parries with bare hands, shadows hardening into blades. Their clash paints the air with explosions of black and white firestorms.
Ultima giggles, her body shaking with manic delight. Her aura splits into hundreds of blood-red eyes hovering around her.
「壊すの,大好き♥」 (I just love breaking things♥)
She snaps her fingers. Each eye fires a beam of corrosive annihilation.
Vorathis weaves through them in slow motion, smiling, while the beams tear through mountains and freeze time where they land.
He lets one strike him in the chest. His body caves inward—then rebuilds instantly.
"Mmm… delicious. Your destruction tastes like honey."
Ultima's smile only grows wider. "Heehee… then I'll keep feeding you until you choke!"
Carrera cracks her knuckles, aura burning emerald. She stomps, and the earth caves, magma spewing upward.
Her hands form seals—massive cannons of energy emerge around her, glowing with atomic power.
She laughs madly:
「こっからは,本気だぜ!」 (From here on, I'm going all out!)
The cannons fire simultaneously—beams wide enough to erase cities.
Vorathis blocks with his wings, laughing through the inferno.
"Yes! That's the spirit! Push me higher, all of you—push until your souls break!"
They all surround him—dragons roaring, demons glowing, powers colliding. Their combined aura becomes a cosmic aurora, shredding the continent beneath them.
Vorathis spreads his arms, welcoming the storm. His laughter echoes like thunder.
"Magnificent! A symphony of ruin! But this is only your beginning… show me the heights of your despair before I show you… my true form!"
The sky tears open above them. His shadow expands—gigantic, monstrous, infinite.