The moment both Origins awakened fully—

  Both Draculius and Israfel charged toward each others.

  No words.

  No hesitation.

  Two ancient beings blurred forward, tearing space apart as they moved. The ground behind them exploded, unable to withstand the force of their acceleration.

  They met at the center of the battlefield.

  BOOOOOOM!!!

  Their fists collided.

  Origin Fire and Origin Darkness smashed together—

  And reality detonated.

  A blinding flash swallowed the horizon. The shockwave expanded outward like a divine pulse, flattening everything in its path. Mountains cracked. The land caved in. The sky split with roaring thunder as if the heavens themselves were breaking apart.

  A second later—

  They struck again.

  BOOOOM!!!

  This time with blades.

  Israfel’s flame sword clashed with Draculius’ shadow-forged weapon. Sparks of pure origin energy erupted, not sparks of light—but fragments of existence itself.

  Each collision—

  Was a catastrophe.

  Each impact—

  A natural disaster.

  They exchanged dozens of blows in the blink of an eye. Every strike released a detonation strong enough to level cities. The battlefield turned into a wasteland of molten rock and endless voids where darkness had consumed the earth.

  Finally—

  They were blasted apart.

  Israfel skidded back hundreds of meters, carving a trench through the ground with his heels. Draculius slid backward, his shadow tearing the land open behind him like a living wound.

  The world screamed.

  Not with sound—

  But with existence itself tearing under pressure.

  Flame and Darkness no longer merely clashed.

  They devoured each other in it own ways.

  Israfel stood blazing like a living sun, his fire no longer orange or red but white-hot, so intense it bent the air around him. The ground beneath his feet had long since turned to molten glass, rivers of lava spiderwebbing outward for hundreds of meters. Every breath he took expelled heat strong enough to warp steel.

  Across from him, Draculius became something else entirely.

  His shadow expanded unnaturally, stretching far beyond his physical body, swallowing the battlefield like an endless night. It was no longer darkness created by the absence of light—

  It was Darkness itself.

  The in a new round, two powers crashed again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Each collision detonated like a god’s heartbeat, shockwaves ripping through the land. Entire hills collapsed in the distance. Stone turned to dust. Trees disintegrated mid-air. The sky fractured with thunderous ruptures, clouds torn apart as if shredded by invisible claws.

  Even within the Holy City, walls trembled and fractured building toppled over.

  The soldier all screamed in panic and help.

  Inside the city—as Eslene and Lucien reaches their destination. They noticed a disembodied Archangel laying motionless on the ground. But before they could further investigate, the land tremble as if an earthquake had hit them. At the same time they could still feel the overwhelming mana pressure even from the distance.

  Eslene staggered, grabbing Lucien’s arm as her knees buckled.

  “The pressure is getting heavier even from this far!”

  Her chest felt like it was being crushed by a mountain.

  Lucien gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright.

  “This is a first...what sort of godlike battle is actually going on out there?…”

  His voice trembled.

  “Even the air is shaking…” as Lucien glance back at Vergil corpse, unsure what to do next.

  Hunters collapsed around them, some vomiting, others losing consciousness entirely. Their mana spiraled out of control, reacting instinctively to the primal forces outside.

  At the fallen city gate—

  Zero dropped to one knee.

  Vesta gasped, clutching her chest.

  “Zero… I can’t breathe…”

  Arame’s eyes widened as he stared toward the battlefield.

  “So this… is what monsters truly are…”

  Even the Seven Swordsmen felt it.

  Their knees sank into the ground.

  Their blades trembled in their sheaths.

  For the first time in their lives—

  Fear.

  Not fear of death.

  Fear of insignificance.

  Inside the Citadel Hall—the trembling had causes the wall around to form crack as smaller dust and debris falls from above the ceiling.

  Lumiel froze.

  His golden eyes widened as a shudder ran through his body.

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  This feeling…

  His breath hitched.

  Not fear for the first time.

  But fear again.

  It reminded him after a very, very long time.

  Omael slammed his hand against the marble floor.

  “Impossible… an Immortal wielding an Origin?!”

  Ramiel clenched his fists.

  “Israfel… is actually being pressured…”

  Kevlar laughed softly.

  “Feel it?”

  He spread his arms.

  “This is the new age that you berated.”

  Israfel roared.

  Flames exploded outward as he charged, his sword blazing like a miniature sun. He swung—

  Draculius met it with a formed darkness claw.

  Darkness wrapped around the blade, devouring the fire inch by inch.

  SSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHH—

  The flame screamed as it vanished.

  Israfel’s eyes widened.

  His Origin Fire—was being devour.

  Draculius didn’t rush.

  He didn’t overwhelm.

  He nibbled. Like taking careful bites from a biscuit.

  Slow. Methodical. Cruel.

  “You see,” Draculius said calmly,

  “devouring was initially my nature. Can't miss out a good meal now.”

  Israfel leapt back, slashing wildly, releasing oceans of flame. Infernos swallowed the battlefield. Firestorms tore through the land, vaporizing everything in their path.

  Darkness followed behind it—

  Consuming and absorbing it all.

  Every attack Israfel unleashed was swallowed bit by bit.

  Israfel snarled.

  “You bastard…!”

  He could feel it.

  His Origin—was shrinking.

  Little by little.

  Flame roared around Israfel as he kept on clashing with Draculius, yet within his blazing eyes, memories stirred—memories he had buried for ages.

  He was the first of their kind to be born with an Origin. For that, the heaven treasured him and honed him for his future-to-be as their strongest Archangel.

  Even among his pier, he was strong, talented and brave.

  And in time he had become the youngest among the high Archangels.

  He did not strive to be the leader nor the best.

  Just a proud younger brother who continued to admired the towering figures before him.

  Until the day everything changed.

  During the hunt for the Ancient Being, Maw, the heavens lost their pillars.

  His eldest brother fell first—then the second and third fell after.

  Defeated by the claw and breath of that primordial monster.

  His sisters followed soon as well.

  Brave and reckless.

  Smiling even as they departed into death.

  Israfel still remembered their laughter before going to battle.

  “Stay behind, little brother.”

  “You’re strong, but not yet.”

  “We’ll handle this.”

  And they never came back.

  That day—

  Israfel became the strongest by default.

  Not by triumph.

  Not by glory.

  But by survival.

  The title tasted bitter in his mouth.

  Years later, war consumed their era.

  The First Shadowborn emerged.

  A being so unnatural and formidable even the heavens trembled.

  When the call to arms echoed through the divine realm, Israfel stepped forward without hesitation.

  "Let me fight him."

  "This is my duty."

  But his other brothers stopped him.

  They stood in his path.

  Not because they doubted his strength—

  But because they feared losing him too.

  "You can't hold him."

  "We won't let you die like the others."

  "We protect our own."

  Their words burned deeper than any flame.

  Was he weak?

  Or were they afraid?

  Israfel clenched his fists that day.

  Pride flared within him.

  Not arrogance—

  But responsibility.

  He was the strongest now.

  It was his burden to bear.

  Yet behind that pride hid something far more fragile—

  Fear.

  Regret.

  Guilt.

  He wasn’t there when his eldest brother fell.

  He wasn’t there when his sisters did not return.

  He wasn’t there—

  And that absence haunted him every single day.

  If he had been stronger back then…

  If he had trained harder and fought instead…

  Would they still be alive?

  That question carved itself into his soul.

  Then came the massacre.

  The Shadowborn tore through angel ranks like a storm of death.

  He watched comrades burn.

  Watched wings fall from the sky.

  Watched heaven itself bleed and burn.

  And still—

  He was held back.

  Protected.

  Sheltered.

  As if he were still that helpless younger brother.

  That day—

  Israfel finally broke.

  He screamed at his brothers.

  Fought them.

  Begged them.

  Demanded to be released.

  But when he saw the truth—

  When he saw their eyes—

  He understood.

  They weren’t protecting heaven.

  They were protecting him. Because he was their last hope.

  And that realization shattered him.

  At last, their final plan was revealed.

  An ultimate relic—

  Forged from ancient divine craft.

  Powered by converting life energy into pure condense mana.

  They would sacrifice everything they had to fight till the end.

  Their existence.

  Their future.

  Their souls.

  To stop the Shadowborn.

  Israfel resisted.

  "There must be another way!"

  "Let me fight him!"

  "I won't lose you too!"

  But his brothers only smiled.

  Tired smiles.

  Peaceful smiles.

  The smiles of those who had already accepted death.

  "Live, Israfel."

  "Carry our flame."

  "Protect what remains."

  And so—

  For the first time—

  Israfel submitted.

  He watched as their life burned into the relic.

  The sky glowed gold.

  Heaven trembled as they unleashed it.

  A divine strike strong enough to shatter worlds.

  For a moment—

  Hope existed.

  But then—

  The light faded.

  The relic cracked.

  The Shadowborn still stood.

  Untouched as he deflected their attack.

  He thought their sacrifice—was in vain. In a pure manner of rage and recklessness, he went on to enter one of the empty relic and decided to use his life and origin together, trying to attack one more time.

  However before he could activate it, the deflected attack strike upon their heaven and destroyed it.

  With that, he fell alongside his brothers.

  Thinking that it was the end of it. And in that moment, he once again felt that he was weak and could not protect anything.

  Back in the present—

  Israfel’s flames surged violently.

  His eyes burned with pain older than time.

  "This is why I cannot lose!"

  "This is why I will burn you away!"

  "I won't standby idly again and watches everyone i cared about to die again!"

  "I will defeat this immortal!"

  "Once and for all!"

  Israfel raised both arms.

  The sky ignited as a sun formed above him.

  A literal burning sphere as if a miniature star had descend upon the land.

  The temperature skyrocketed.

  Oceans in the distance began to boil.

  Clouds evaporated.

  Soldiers miles away burst into flames.

  “This is my ultimate!”

  “ANNIHILATION WHITE STAR!”

  The star descended.

  Draculius didn’t move,

  He simply raised one hand and casted.

  A darkness shroud expanded from his palm and reaches out to the descending sun.

  It contacted and slowly enveloped the falling sun like a bottomless void.

  There was some resistance at first, as if the star is trying to fight back the darkness.

  And in the next moment, the star was overwhelmed and compressed by the void.

  The impact after—

  Was silent for a while.

  Then—

  BOOOOOOOOOOM!!!

  The ground split for miles.

  Surrounding mountains collapsed.

  The shockwave blasted outward, flattening forests on the surrounding, tearing the city wall apart, throwing soldiers like dolls.

  Inside the city—

  People were thrown off their feet.

  Walls cracked.

  Some fractured towers fell.

  Eslene screamed as Lucien shielded her.

  Zero grabbed Vesta.

  Arame slammed his sword into the ground to stay upright.

  Even the Archangels and Kevlar in the citadel staggered.

  Israfel dropped to one knee.

  Blood dripped from his lips after overexerting himself.

  His flames flickered.

  Draculius stepped forward slowly.

  His darkness wrapped around Israfel’s chest, targeting his inner Origin of Fire—

  Devouring it from his inside

  Bit by bit.

  “You fought well,” Draculius said quietly.

  “But you fought with too much anger.”

  “And anger would fade eventually.”

  “Had you not limited yourself to focus on a candlestick, it would had being a fiery ember that shine upon the vast world”

  Israfel laughed weakly.

  “So… this is it…”

  He looked at the sky.

  “At least… I finally did something… this time.”

  He coughed.

  Blood splattered.

  His body was getting weaker from the backlash of using his ultimate and also his origin power being slowly devour.

  “…Brothers… sisters…”

  “…I’m sorry…look like am joining you soon...”

  Draculius stopped inches away.

  He did not kill him.

  Instead—

  He retract his palm from Israfel’s chest.

  Darkness surged and redirect back to Draculius.

  He did not consume his life. Only his power, enough to weaken him.

  Israfel’s Origin flames dimmed.

  Weakened and Drained.

  He collapsed.

  Still breathing, alive and defeated. But his expression was content.

  Draculius turned away.

  “My side is done, and it seems like most of them had also made it out alive.”

  Behind him—

  The battlefield lay in ruins as the landscape was reshaped from the battle.

  A historical traces of two Origins Power had clashed.

  And the world would remember it mark.

  Kevlar smiled.

  “Haha… that old monster still bites harder.”

  Lumiel clenched his fists.

  Israfel… lost?…

  Kevlar took a step after staying still all this while, slowly and calm.

  “Since most of the initial show had concluded, it is time for the main stage to play as well”

  Fear gripped Lumiel again as it reminded him of an old experience.

  It was not the fear of death that comes, but the fear of what may happen next.