The ground where Zorig had been buried roared, while the released energy drew ever closer. The Sons of the Sun God had a crazed look in their eyes, while some of them took the chance to offer one last prayer to their God.
Arthur was prepared to immobilize the semi-transcendent as best as he could.
With a fierce explosion, Zorig burst out, rising among dirt and debris expelled by his escape. Immediately, the men of Michael's legion rushed forward, seeking to get as close to Zorig as possible. But the semi-transcendent would not allow anyone near. Showing mastery over wind, he unleashed gales that hurled the fanatics into the air, seeking to kill them as their bodies smashed violently against objects or the ground itself.
"I won't let you do it. Even if I can't harm you, at least this much is something I can handle."
Arthur used his gravitational magic to prevent his allies from dying instantly upon impact, ensuring they landed softly, free of danger.
Michael spread his wings, ready to face Zorig in an aerial battle. A Legendary fighting in the skies against a semi-transcendent. A battle with an obvious outcome under any other circumstance. But the truth was that Michael and Arthur had already won: the simple act of holding Zorig back for a few seconds more meant they were fulfilling their mission.
Michael lunged like a furious eagle upon its prey. With his great hammer in hand, he sought to crush Zorig's wings. But this time, there were no gales or resistance of any kind.
"He wants to face me in close combat and kill me quickly first. Bold of you, creature of the Void… but I am not striking blindly."
Zorig summoned a great hand of void aura, trying to grasp the angel. Yet suddenly, Michael moved far faster, easily leaving the attack behind and finally closing into melee range.
Zorig swung his heavy mace, aiming to crush the angel with all his strength. But at the last moment, Michael managed to dodge. Even so, the shockwave from the released energy struck him like a hammer against his temple.
Michael was half-stunned. Yet he had reached his goal: to get close to the semi-transcendent.
"O Sun God, hear my prayer: let my enemy crawl upon the ground like the miserable worm he is."
Divine energy spread a few meters forward, creating a small divine domain. Though Michael himself, with his meager divine power, could not harm Zorig, by creating this domain he allowed his God to intervene through him, using his body and divine energy to strike.
Michael glared at Zorig, who swung his mace once more.
"Fall."
In that instant, Zorig's wings were bound by chains of divine energy—specifically, solar energy. Zorig plummeted toward the ground, though before impact he softened his fall by summoning a violent blizzard beneath him.
Michael felt as though his body were aflame. His head was badly injured from the earlier shockwave; he was barely holding on, keeping himself alive with quick healing spells. He was exhausted, and if he lost focus even for a moment, his last breath would be spent. Yet he still stood—for his God. Even now, he could hear His voice urging him on:
"Fight."
"Fight."
"Fight."
Since morning, he had been receiving divine signals about what to do in each situation. He still did not fully understand why his God, silent for so long, now spoke. But he was glad.
"Now that my God has returned, we will not lose. There is still hope to save this city… to save everyone."
The angel obeyed his Lord and prepared once again for battle.
Once on the ground, Zorig was assailed from every side by the Sons of the Sun God, hurling themselves at him like starving dogs. Killing these little flies was no challenge for him. The problem was that if they got close enough, they self-destructed—detonating their bodies and their cores. The fierce energy released slowly poisoned the corpse he was inhabiting, cutting off his connection and making him slower, limiting the power he could draw upon.
At best, he had managed to turn this corpse into a semi-transcendent warrior. But if this continued, his power would dwindle down to no more than Legendary.
Zorig swung his great mace, crushing soldiers before they could detonate their cores. He fought amid a cacophony of fervent screams, swinging the mace, smashing down all in his path. Sensing more soldiers at his back, he unleashed a gale downward, slamming their bodies mercilessly against the ground.
"Who would think the Sun God would act at this moment? I've been wondering where those pathetic gods have been all this time… but I still don't know what they're planning."
The fleeting thought crossed his mind before he returned to butchering the rest.
The battlefield had become a grotesque wasteland, covered in guts. Around Zorig lay mangled corpses and marks of countless explosions.
More fanatics charged bravely from the front. Eyes bloodshot, they had only one goal: to cause as much damage as possible to the creature before them.
Zorig swung his mace down to crush the reckless foes, but felt the ground beneath him sink, throwing him off balance for a moment—just enough for soldiers to close in.
"FOR THE SUN GOD!"
The fanatics exploded in solar energy, searing Zorig from the front.
"PATHETIC CREATURES! THROWING AWAY YOUR LIVES SO FOOLISHLY… IF YOU WERE GOING TO DIE USELESSLY ANYWAY, YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST KILLED YOURSELVES!"
The creature wearing Zorig's body shouted, seeking to crush the soldiers' morale.
But the opposite happened the words only fueled their determination.
Zorig prepared to continue the massacre, but then his foot was caught by a small hand. In truth, he was dragging it unknowingly so faint was the grip and energy.
He glanced down to see what held him. And there it was: a man split in half, entrails spilling out, clinging to his leg with a face twisted in eternal hatred. As their eyes met, the man detonated his core, burning Zorig once more.
The Void had spent centuries, millennia, hundreds of thousands, millions of years invading this world, seeking absolute destruction. At first, it was merely a task, something to be done. The creatures of the planet meant nothing—it felt nothing for them.
But over time, a feeling began to take root in this cosmic force of annihilation:
"Annoying."
With time, the Void grew irritated at these tenacious beings. And that irritation, in time, became hatred.
At last, it began to admit it: it hated them. Deep within its core, it hated these creatures who resisted annihilation so stubbornly.
The ground trembled. Aura flared outward exponentially, seeking to obliterate every last enemy nearby. Zorig did not want to waste energy on such pitiful core-bearers—but circumstances, and his own anger, demanded it. If he kept fighting and taking damage, he might not be able to kill the other generals.
A giant mace of aura formed from Zorig's claws, with which he crushed the remaining fanatics. The earth shook from the ferocious strike, further ravaging the already devastated land.
Only the distant ranged soldiers survived.
Zorig rose over the corpses of an entire legion.
In the sky, a radiant figure descended: Paladin Michael had finally recovered from his wounds, ready to face his foe once more.
Michael summoned a spear of solar light in one hand and hurled it at Zorig. The spear flew swiftly, but the semi-transcendent batted it aside with his mace, sending it spinning away to explode in the distance.
At last, the angel reached him, hammer in hand, striking down.
But even with his massive frame, Zorig was agile, dodging Michael's blows, moving with calculated precision to conserve energy.
He prepared to dodge again—but where his foot should have landed, he found only uneven ground that had not been there before.
In that instant, Michael's hammer struck Zorig's chest plate, denting it. The attack did not wound him directly, but allowed divine energy to seep in—a poison to his ether, gnawing at him slowly.
Zorig quickly swiped Michael away with an improvised claw of aura. The blow struck true: the paladin was hurled back, armor shattered, half his helmet gone, bloodied hair falling over his battered form. Yet he rose once more, determined to pour more divine poison into Zorig.
Zorig summoned a powerful gale, trying to drag the angel into his kill zone. But Michael did not move as expected—his body held fast.
Zorig turned his gaze. There was Arthur, straining with all his might to anchor his companion.
There stood a mere Archon-level mage, giving his all in a battle far beyond his level. That kind of tenacity, that refusal to yield even against overwhelmingly stronger foes… it was exactly what the Void despised.
"Just die already, damn weakling."
Zorig dashed toward the mage, intent on finishing him. But the angel rushed to intercept. Against all odds, the mage ran forward too, then suddenly rose by inverting his own gravity, soaring over the monster.
Michael reached him.
"Judgment."
"Guilty."
"Stop."
Michael issued a swift trial—normally it would paralyze his foe. He knew it would do nothing to Zorig, yet it forced him to stay in contact with divine energy.
Zorig pressed forward, allowing Michael's strike to land on his side, in exchange driving his gauntleted fist into the paladin's chest, sending him flying once more, armor shattered.
"Good. One more hit and the winged bastard dies."
At that moment, Zorig found himself surrounded by the last surviving soldiers, charging with everything they had to buy Michael time to recover.
He crushed one beneath his foot. Tore another apart with his claw. But then two clung to him… then another… then another. They latched on like fleas, covering his body.
And they exploded together.
Zorig roared, bathed in divine energy. The legion was gone. Yet the damage he suffered far exceeded the energy he had spent.
Even so, he would not stop. He was determined to kill those two troublesome commanders. Slowly, he advanced first toward the mage, who had been a thorn in his side all along.
Arthur watched the fierce owl-man approach, ready for his final battle.
But then, the angel Michael stepped between them, gravely wounded.
"So… this is how we die, huh? After all this time." Michael smiled.
"But it wasn't a meaningless fight. Now the rest of us surely have a chance to defeat this monster."
Arthur felt a little better, though still miserable. He was about to die, after all.
The giant owl raised his mace.
Arthur, in that moment, poured every last drop of magic he had left, crushing Zorig with gravitational force. Yet his powers still failed to affect him. Even so, he did not stop—he gave everything, blood streaming from his eyes, ears, and nose.
Arthur would not accept it. He refused to die as nothing more than an annoyance.
But Zorig still prepared his strike, intent on killing them both.
Michael turned to Arthur with his final words:
"Thank you for staying to fight with me."
He was sincere. He was happy to die with his comrades.
Arthur ceased his struggle, giving a resigned laugh.
"It was a pleasure, Michael."
Zorig unleashed his final attack, crushing with aura across hundreds of meters. But at the last moment, the paladin shone… and vanished.
Arthur was not so fortunate. He was struck head-on.
When the blow subsided, nothing remained of the mage.
Zorig paused, half his being lost to the void, then moved again to hunt the other commanders.
Far away, Michael saw nothing. He thought he had finally died.
"Where am I?"
Then he heard words that filled him with warmth:
"You have fought well, my son. Now allow Me to handle the rest."
Michael did not understand, but that voice was unmistakably his God's. He yielded, letting his Lord's energy flow through his body.
Soon, his consciousness faded.
His memories faded.
His very self faded.
And finally, Michael was dead. He no longer existed in this world.
Yet his body, empty of life, rose once more—now a vessel for the Sun God, who was ready to step into the battle.
"If you want something done right, you must do it yourself."
In his palace, the Sun God opened his eyes and cast his gaze once more upon the battlefield, awaiting the right moment to descend.