The clearing reeked of blood and despair. The Azure Sky Blades, once hunters, were now prey caught in the talons of something beyond comprehension.
Aezrael stood at the center, unmarked despite their combined might, his scythe dripping crimson. His wings spread wide, their shadow swallowing the last light of the sun.
He raised the weapon high.
"Let me show you… despair that endures beyond death."
He blurred forward, a storm of claws and steel.
Wei Zhan thrust his lightning spear desperately, sparks scattering. Aezrael caught the shaft mid-thrust and twisted. The man's arms snapped like twigs, and the spear exploded with lightning, frying its wielder alive. Wei's scream cut short as his body convulsed, smoking.
Tian Rou, the mystic, unfurled her phoenix-feather fan, conjuring illusions of flame and shadow. A thousand firebirds surged at Aezrael—but his roar shattered them, sound itself breaking apart her technique. He seized her by the throat, lifted her into the air as she clawed at his grip, then slammed her down so hard her spine snapped, her body twitching like a broken doll.
Liang Chao tried to strike from the shadows, blades flashing in poisoned arcs. Aezrael vanished, reappearing behind him, whispering into his ear:
"Shadows belong to me."
His claw tore through Liang's back, ripping his spine free in one brutal motion.
The survivors' courage cracked. Mo Shuren, battered and broken, charged with one final roar, halberd raised in both trembling hands. Aezrael let him come, let him believe in his last act of defiance. Then the scythe fell.
Slice.
Mo's head rolled into the dirt, his body staggering a step before collapsing.
Only two remained.
Han Yuer, bleeding and half-conscious, crawled desperately toward Feng Xueya. The leader's face was pale, her sword trembling—not with fear, but with fury at her own helplessness.
Aezrael stalked closer, dragging the scythe across the earth, sparks flying.
"Leader… you still burn bright. I will savor your fall."
He appeared before Han Yuer first. She looked up, tears frozen on her face.
"Please…" she whispered.
The scythe whispered back as it fell.
Silence.
Han Yuer's body lay still, a frozen sculpture of despair.
Feng Xueya screamed, her sword exploding with radiant qi, every ounce of her life force burning in one desperate strike. She hurled herself forward, blade aiming at Aezrael's heart.
It connected.
For a heartbeat, victory seemed real.
Then he laughed.
The sword pierced his chest, but his hand closed around the blade, shattering it to fragments. His tail coiled around her waist, lifting her into the air. His golden-red eyes locked with hers.
"You fought well… but in the end, even heaven's edge dulls against chaos."
The scythe swung.
Feng Xueya's body split in two.
The clearing was silent again.
Six elite hunters of the Azure Sky Sect—reduced to corpses and ruin.
Aezrael stood amidst the carnage, his form bathed in blood and shadow, his scythe humming with satisfaction. He spread his wings, raising his head to the night sky.
"Let the sect know," he murmured, his voice carrying into the dark forest, "their blades are broken. And chaos has returned."
The ground shook as his roar thundered across the wilderness, a proclamation of dominance no sect could ignore.
The massacre was complete.