Snow hovered in midair, his breath shallow as he stared down at the devastation below—the aftermath of Azazellion's attack, the sky still crackled with residual energy.
He ignored the old man's twisted compliment. Deep down, Snow knew: if he had taken that strike head-on, he would've died instantly.
His eyes narrowed, locking onto Azazellion's gaze—eccentric, wild, unhinged. The expression of a man who had long lost touch with sanity.
"||Now, shall we?||" Azazellion said with a crooked smirk.
In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, unleashing a storm of sword strikes. Snow evaded, barely. Cuts lined his arms, his torso, even the edges of his mask. Blood trickled from bruises and slashes, his body a map of narrow escapes.
He did all he could to minimize the damage, but it wasn't enough.
In a sudden shift, Azazellion activated a skill. Reality warped.
Snow, who had managed to gain distance just moments before, found himself pulled back—back to the exact spot Azazellion had struck earlier.
No—!
A sharp pain tore through him. A clean diagonal slash from shoulder to hip.
"Gah!" Snow cried out, staggering as blood sprayed from the wound. His mask absorbed most of it, darkening with crimson.
"||How disappointing.||" Azazellion muttered, emotionless now, as if the battle no longer amused him.
Their clash had brought them closer to a scattered chain of islands—territory known to the world as Iceland. Snow guessed the distance was still enough to avoid collateral damage for now, but fatigue was creeping in fast. His breaths grew heavier.
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out two vials and downed them swiftly. A burst of warmth rushed through his veins. His wounds sealed. Stamina restored.
But even with his body mended, the gap in power and skill loomed larger than ever.
Azazellion tilted his head, now looking genuinely bored.
||You... Did Father choose you, even knowing you were this weak?|| he asked, curiosity flickering in his tone.
Snow chuckled darkly. "Your speculation isn't too far off."
"I may seem weak... but that's because I'm focused on protecting civilians across every continent. If you hadn't forced open the cracks, you wouldn't be facing this version of me."
Azazellion stared at him blankly.
||So, you're saying you can't fight me at full strength... because you're worried about the lower life forms?||
Snow nodded. "Indeed."
A grin crept across Azazellion's face. ||Then let's make a bet.||
"A bet?" Snow asked, eyes narrowing.
||I shall close the gates. Every last one. In return, you will fight me seriously. If I win— he raised a finger, —I will destroy everything. Everyone included.||
Snow's heart pounded. (He took the bait. If I can just buy enough time... Ibrahim and Arthur will be here soon.)
"...And if I win?" he asked.
Azazellion's eyes gleamed. ||You won't. But fine—if you win, I shall leave this planet and never return. That said... what do you think will happen when the other avatars arrive?||
Snow froze.
"What...?"
(Shouldn't He be the only one left alive? Didn't Asmodeus wipe them all out?)
Snow's voice rose. "but he did! At least that's what the records—"
Azazellion smiled, a cruel curve of satisfaction. ||I see... You truly don't know.||
"Tell me!" Snow shouted, fury rising.
||The look on your face is... pleasing.||
Then, with a simple snap of his fingers, the sky rippled.
All across the globe, the rifts began to close. One by one. The gates sealed.
||Now that I've fulfilled the first condition... shall we begin?||
The smile vanished from Azazellion's face. His expression hardened.
His blade vibrated, humming violently like a live wire. Then—he vanished.
Mirages of Azazellion flickered through the air.
Steel clashed with steel as they collided once more, but now each strike reverberated like thunder. The force of their exchange shattered buildings nearby, overturned cars, and sent shockwaves that made the ears of bystanders bleed.
Below them, the sea churned. Waves crashed violently, rising as if stirred by the fury of the heavens. The skies above darkened with rolling clouds, heavy with the promise of rain. Nature itself seemed to mirror the chaos unfolding between the two titans.
Their clash had stretched on for over an hour—one hour and fifteen minutes of relentless battle.
Then, with a final devastating strike, Snow was sent crashing into the center of the island.
The impact carved a massive crater into the earth, unleashing a shockwave so powerful it flattened everything around it. Buildings were torn apart.
As if following a script written in blood, Azazellion arrived above the crater. But this time, there were no punches—only a rain of blades. Sword strikes descended like divine punishment, each one splitting the earth, shaking the skies.
The ground trembled. Buildings collapsed in the distance.
Still, Snow did not move.
Azazellion raised a hand and clapped once. The air distorted—and with a sudden gust, the thick smoke and dust vanished.
He stepped forward slowly, his boots crunching against scorched stone, until he stood over the still figure buried beneath the rubble. Without a hint of hesitation, he grabbed Snow by the hair and lifted him effortlessly.
Snow's body hung limply, barely conscious. His vision blurred, overrun by a cascade of system notifications flashing red.
DING!
[Your health has fallen below 15%]
DING!
[System has detected a broken rib]
DING!
[System has detected internal bleeding]
DING!
[You have lost a significant amount of blood]
DING!
[Bloodlust effect has been triggered. You will continue to lose HP every 10 seconds]
DING!
[PATHFINDER has detected user's wavering will]
DING!
[PATHFINDER asks: Do you wish to give up?]
(Ah... what the hell...) Snow thought, his vision fading as he looked up at the broken sky above. His mask, cracked and soaked in blood, revealed much of his face now.
(I thought... I was stronger than this. Why do I still feel so powerless?)
(Have I been doing everything wrong this whole time?)
As his thoughts drifted, Azazellion raised him higher—then, without pause, plunged his sword into Snow's chest.
Snow barely reacted. He could feel the cold steel slide through him, but his body refused to register the pain. He was slipping.
DING!
[Do you wish to give up?]
[YES / NO]
DING!
[Health has fallen below 5%]
DING!
[Health has fallen below 3%]
DING!
[Do you wish to give up?]
[YES / NO]
(What's the point of trying... if no matter how hard you work, you never get stronger...?)
Azazellion tossed him aside like a ragdoll. Snow's body hit the ground with a sickening thud, unmoving. He felt useless... discarded.
"||If this is the extent of the Chosen One... then it is truly disappointing.||" Azazellion muttered, eyes full of disdain.
"||I didn't even get the chance to fight seriously.||"
He scoffed, visibly disgusted.
"||Damn it. What terrible taste.||" he cursed, turning back toward Snow's broken body.
He approached slowly, standing over Snow once more. But Snow wasn't looking at him.
Snow was staring up at the stars.
The clouds had parted, revealing a sky clearer than any he'd seen in years. It reminded him of simpler days—running through the estate with his little sister on his shoulders, her laughter echoing under starlit skies.
They had stayed with their father after the divorce. But a bitter dispute over the family's inheritance had torn them apart. She'd left for Europe to live with their mother, and they hadn't spoken since.
(Is this how it ends?)
The sky above shimmered like it was bidding farewell. A sky that once brought him peace... now looked ready to take him in.
Azazellion raised his blade once more.
"||Time to end this disappointment.||"
He brought the blade down—
—but it never landed.
A brilliant clang rang out, and Azazellion was forced to leap back. His blade had been deflected.
Standing in front of Snow was a luminous figure, shining with divine radiance.
He wore pristine white armor adorned with gold engravings, his long blond hair flowing like silk in the wind. A white cape danced behind him, lifted gently by the breeze. His presence was overwhelming—holy, unwavering, like a knight out of a myth.
He pointed his sword forward, its radiant light pulsing like the heart of a star. A holy weapon—its brilliance almost blinding.
With one swift motion, he launched at Azazellion, his sword slicing through the air like justice incarnate.
Azazellion caught the blade with his hands, eyes narrowing with a smile on his face
Arthur had arrived.
And in that moment, he felt it.
The overwhelming pressure—raw, divine, terrifying.
Azazellion's presence was far beyond anything Arthur could have imagined. The gap between them was impossible to ignore.
He was a monster... and yet, Snow—a mere F-rank—had held his own against him.
Arthur's fists clenched.
"||O-oh... what a splendid figure,||" Azazellion said with a twisted grin as he looked upon the white-armored warrior who had appeared before him.
"||You should be... worthwhile.||" he acknowledged with rising anticipation.
But before Azazellion could lift a finger, a colossal force descended from above.
Boom!
He was smashed into the ground by a devastating blow that fractured the earth beneath them.
Dust erupted—
—but a second later, the scene reversed like a spinning reel.
Time rewound.
Azazellion, now standing where he once fell, dodged the attack effortlessly. The blow that could have ended him instead landed on empty ground. A shadowed figure with black skin now stood where Azazellion had been, energy still crackling from the impact.
Arthur's eyes widened.
"...Is this what Snow meant by Time Reversal?" he muttered in disbelief.
From beside him, another voice spoke.
"It displeases me," said Ibrahim, stepping forward with calm fury in his tone. His golden armor gleamed under the fractured moonlight. Around his wrist, beads the size of tennis balls clinked gently as he rolled his wrist—still sore from the attack he'd thrown earlier.
Arthur walked up beside him.
"Iceland... reduced to this," Ibrahim said, surveying the ruined landscape.
"Indeed," Arthur replied solemnly.
"But at least... he managed to protect most of the people," he added after a glance back at Snow's motionless body.
"We'll leave the rest to you now, Maria," Arthur said.
"Not like I have a choice," Maria answered sharply, already arriving with Lola and the Ice Queen. The moment their eyes fell on Snow's broken figure, all three froze in disbelief.
"Wasn't he... an F-rank?" Maria muttered, taking in the obliterated battlefield around them.
"That's not the point!" Lola snapped, voice cracking with urgency. "Heal him already!"
"Right," Maria nodded and knelt beside Snow.
DING!
[Aura Blessing is in effect]
DING!
[Your Health: 1%]
DING!
[Healing skill detected]
DING!
[Due to the unique skill: PATHFINDER — All skills without a recognized Pathway shall be nullified]
DING!
[Aura Blessing has been nullified]
"W-what?!" Maria gasped.
"What is it?!" the Ice Queen asked quickly.
"My skill... it was nullified," Maria said, pale with shock.
"What do you mean?!" Lola shouted, her eyes brimming with panic.
"It means... healing magic won't work on him," the Ice Queen said grimly.
"Then—what about potions?!"
"We can try," she replied.
Lola fumbled through her pouch, hands trembling. "Come on... come on, where is it?!"
"Why now of all times?!" she cried.
"Let me check," the Ice Queen said, quickly diving into her own supply.
She retrieved a few potions and handed them to Lola. Desperately, Lola began pouring them into Snow's mouth.
DING!
[Potion detected: No designated Pathway]
DING!
[Due to the unique skill: PATHFINDER — Potions not created by the user shall be nullified]
"W-why... why isn't it working...?" Lola whispered, her voice breaking as tears rolled down her cheeks.
(L-Lola...?)
Snow's awareness stirred faintly in the void.
(Why is she crying...?)
He could hear them—voices calling his name, reaching for him as if from far away.
His mind reeled—flashes of his childhood, his battles, his failures, his sister...
DING!
[Do you wish to give up?]
[YES / NO]
"Snow, please!" Lola cried, clutching his hand. "You can't die here!"
"You have to come back... Come back for your sister... please!"
(My... sister?) Snow thought. (Aura...?)
(I'm sorry, Aura... I'm so sorry...)
His consciousness flickered.
And then—silence.
DING!
[Health has dropped to 0]
DING!
[YOU ARE DEAD]
DING!
[PATHFINDER has detected a Pathway...]
DING!
[Linking user to: FORGOTTEN PATHWAY]
DING!
[PATHWAY connection established]
DING!
[Requirements met]
DING!
[User's body shall become a temporary vessel]
DING!
[Snow Mirrorfelt's Last Will has been initiated]
DING!
[Snow Mirrorfelt's Will has descended upon the user's body]
DING!
[All dormant skills shall be unlocked: TEMPORARILY]
Light burst from his body.
Snow's limbs twitched—
then trembled—
then moved.
A divine aura surrounded him. His hair shifted, glowing with a cool, radiant blue. And in that moment, his blade—Starlight—responded.
It had not moved since his fall.
But now—
It shimmered.
It pulsed with energy once more.
And with a flash of light, the weapon returned to his grasp—its edge glowing as it had only once before, in the hands of Asmodeus.
Only this time...
It moved for Snow.
With a single gust, the world trembled.
A violent wind burst outward from Snow's body, sending Maria, Ice Queen, and Lola flying back like leaves caught in a storm. The shockwave flattened the earth beneath him, a silent declaration that something had changed.
In the center of it all... Snow stood.
Or rather, someone wearing Snow's body.
With a slow, graceful swing of his sword, the whirlwind vanished. The debris and smoke were cleared from the battlefield, revealing him in his full, ethereal form.
His eyes gleamed with divine insight.
His aura shimmered like light refracted through the edge of time.
// "This fool... has been using Pathfinder all wrong." //
The voice was deeper. Older. Sharper.
Snow—no, Snow Mirrorfelt—looked around with an expression that cut deeper than any sword.
When his cold gaze landed on the three women before him, it was like an avalanche collapsing onto their chests.
They couldn't withstand it.
Their knees buckled. They collapsed to the ground—breathless under the sheer pressure.
DING!
[SNOW MIRRORFELT'S WILL is active]
[Time remaining: 09:45]
// "This is... a different timeline from the original." //
Snow Mirrorfelt muttered, inspecting his hands. The body had changed—stronger, hardened, battle-worn—yet still lacking what it needed most.
Skills.
His lips curved slightly, amused by the irony.
// "Is this what Ukris meant by the divergence?" //
His gaze shifted downward to the blade in his right hand.
// "So you're the one—Starlight." //
The sword glowed softly, responding to his recognition.
// "Nice to meet you." //
A moment later, with a flicker of light—
A second sword materialized in his left hand.
// "I hope you'll lend me your power, Starlight." //
The blade gleamed in reply, sending a pulse of approval through his arm.
// "Thank you." //
Without another word, Snow Mirrorfelt began walking forward, leaving behind the women who had moments ago tried to save him.
Lola, eyes wide with disbelief, raised her sword. "Who are you?!"
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Maria shouted, standing to block her path.
Snow Mirrorfelt paused, eyes narrowing.
// "So you can tell I'm not the same. And from this body's memories... you—"
His tone was ice.
// "Why do you care now, after hurting him so much?" //
"That... shouldn't be your concern!" Lola shouted back.
// "I see. You carry the look of regret... but I have no time to waste on emotional closure." //
He turned slightly.
// "Settle it with him later." //
Before another word could be spoken, two figures crashed to the ground on either side of him.
Broken.
Beaten.
Barely conscious.
Ibrahim and Arthur lay on the ground—armor shattered, blood trailing from the corners of their lips. Azazellion had torn through them like paper, and they wouldn't last another round.
Snow didn't flinch.
A massive firestorm surged toward them, blazing high with godlike fury. Azazellion stood at the edge of the battlefield, grinning behind the attack.
But Snow simply looked up.
His blue hair danced in the wind, his wounded body standing firm like an unshakable monument amidst the storm.
He raised Starlight.
And with a single, effortless slash—
Shhhhhck!
The flame split.
No—it was erased.
The path of his blade didn't just cut the fire. It erased its very existence, as though time itself denied it ever being there. Azazellion, sensing death, had already dodged—his instincts screaming.
Everything that touched that line of destruction ceased to be.
Snow stood silently for a moment, then smiled faintly.
// "You're a fine ego." //
// "Your master is proud." //
The sword shimmered, almost bashfully.
Then the second sword—the darker one—sparkled in response, as if pouting.
Snow chuckled.
// "Hah... You're quite naughty, Twilight." //
The blade was a thing of wonder. Black as the void, its edge shimmered like stars scattered across a night sky. The hilt was obsidian, elegant, flawless—like it had been forged in the birth of the universe.
And it had.
Twilight—like Starlight—was an ego blade.
A weapon forged from the cosmos itself.
It had once cleaved through the Avatar of Chronos... and every Zodiac that supported him.
Now, it rested once more in the hands of its true master:
Snow Mirrorfelt.
---------------------------------------------------
to be continued...