The sky didn't just brighten.
It ignited.
Armageddon stood alone in the stratosphere, one arm raised, his wings unfurled like obsidian silk. The power he exhaled didn't roar—it simply existed, quiet and absolute, like something older than creation remembering itself.
Below him, the Marshal Trio staggered, wounded, terrified, drenched in the cosmic fluids leaking from their broken armor.
Armageddon lowered his hand.
"You three chose to invade the Sovereign's world," he said calmly.
"There is only one sentence for that."
He vanished.
The Marshal barely had time to gasp before Armageddon appeared behind him, one hand on his spine.
The Marshal screamed, spear fragments still lodged in his ribs, but Armageddon spoke softly:
"Your weapon was forged from a dying universe."
"But I've devoured suns older than that."
He pushed his hand forward—
—and the Marshal's body collapsed inward, crushed into a singularity no larger than a fingernail.
The singularity blinked once.
Then evaporated.
The Marshal was gone.
No corpse.
No echo.
No afterimage.
Only silence.
The High Commander trembled, every dimensional eye on his armor dilating and shrinking like prey animals.
"Y-you can't kill me," he stammered.
"My body regenerates across seven planes—my existence is anchored—"
Armageddon's voice cut through him:
"Seven planes is nothing."
He snapped his fingers.
Reality folded.
Not warped.
Not twisted.
Folded.
The High Commander screamed as the fabric of the seven planes anchoring him snapped like cheap thread. His armor imploded from every direction, bone and cosmic alloy shattering in perfect geometric symmetry.
Armageddon stepped forward and caught the High Commander's collapsing form by the head.
The High Commander whimpered, voice trembling:
"Please—spare—"
Armageddon tightened his grip.
"No."
A shockwave ripped through the sky.
The High Commander disintegrated—body, soul, anchor, timeline—reduced to dust that never even touched the ground.
The Grand Marshal watched the other two vanish, his wings trembling so violently they shed feathers of void-energy that drifted away like dying stars.
He tried to speak.
"A-Ashura… he… he won't let you—"
Armageddon appeared in front of him.
"Let me?"
He tilted his head.
"You think I need permission to kill you?"
The Grand Marshal stepped back, eyes wide.
"You are just a beast—the Father will unmake you—he will break your leash—"
Armageddon's aura flared.
And for the first time in eons, the Grand Marshal fell to his knees.
"Get up," Armageddon said.
The Grand Marshal didn't move.
He couldn't.
His bones were vibrating.
His sidax were screaming.
His essence felt like it was melting.
Armageddon's voice deepened.
"I said—"
He grabbed the Grand Marshal by the throat and lifted him into the sky.
"—get up."
The Grand Marshal struggled, claws digging into Armageddon's arm, but nothing broke skin. Nothing even dented it.
"You think Ashura's leash binds me?" Armageddon asked.
"Look at me."
The Grand Marshal forced his eyes open.
And saw the truth.
Armageddon wasn't a guardian because he was forced to be.
He was a guardian because Ashura earned his loyalty.
Because Ashura fought him without fear.
Because Ashura dominated him for three days.
Because Ashura understood the abyss inside him.
Because Ashura respected him.
Because Ashura trusted him.
Armageddon tightened his grip.
"You came to my planet."
He squeezed.
The Grand Marshal's wings shattered like glass.
"You tried to kill my Sovereign's people."
He squeezed harder.
The Grand Marshal's chest cracked.
"You threatened the world I was charged to protect."
His hand ignited with black fire.
"And you thought you would walk away."
The Grand Marshal choked out, voice a broken whisper:
"…Please… I submit… I—"
Armageddon pulled him close.
"You don't get to submit."
The sky detonated.
Armageddon's fist tore through the Grand Marshal's core, ripping his sidax apart and scattering them like burning seeds across the upper atmosphere.
The Grand Marshal's face froze in horror—
—and his body burst into dust.
A shockwave rippled through the clouds, carving a glowing spiral pattern across the horizon.
The wind returned.
The sunlight returned.
The natural order returned.
But the Marshal Trio did not.
Their essences were gone.
Their names were erased.
Their legacies were ended.
Armageddon hovered alone, exhaling once, his breath cracking the last fragments of the Grand Marshal's essence.
He looked toward the cosmos, sensing the hidden realm where Ashura battled the Outer Gods.
"They thought you would come alone," he murmured.
"And they tried to harm what you vowed to protect."
His wings folded behind him, slow and deliberate.
"Let them learn," he said softly, "that your shadow alone is enough to drown their armies."
Lightning streaked behind him as he turned toward the planet—
but then stopped.
He looked up once more.
Toward the Outer God realms.
Toward the All-Denying Father.
And his eyes burned.
"I hope you watched."
The sky trembled.
"Because the Sovereign is coming."
Armageddon's form blurred into a streak of black light as he descended, circling the atmosphere to check for any remaining threats…
…but there were none.
The Marshal Trio were dead.
The invasion had failed.
Earth remained untouched.
And Ashura's contingency had worked flawlessly.