The Cardinal World lay in ruin, its once-proud defenses now overwhelmed. Feldway and Zelanus stood victorious, the last of the Demon Lords lying broken before them. The sky itself seemed to mourn the fall of the greatest defenders the world had known. The battle had raged for days, with the Angels and Insectars pouring in from the portals, an unyielding force that refused to be stopped.
Now, only Velzard remained, struggling against the debilitating spell cast by Feldway. She was weary, the weight of the attack crushing her body and mind. Her icy form trembled, barely able to hold on. Zelanus, seeing this, approached with an arrogant smirk, ready to deliver the final blow.
The Cardinal World trembled beneath the weight of its impending doom. The final battle had reached its climactic peak, with Feldway and Zelanus on the cusp of achieving victory. Their forces had pushed the Demon Lords to the brink—Milim, Velzard, Velgrynd, and Veldora, all weakening under the relentless onslaught of Angels and Insectars pouring through the portals. There was no end to the attack. The Cardinal World seemed to be on the edge of collapse.
The skies above swirled with unnatural clouds as Zelanus closed in on Velzard, his ethereal wings cutting through the atmosphere, the final blow within reach. The Demon Lords were defeated, their once unyielding power faltering. Feldway, too, stood over Milim, his power overwhelming her, his golden eyes burning with satisfaction. It seemed the last of the Demon Lords would fall.
But something was about to happen. A shift. The world held its breath.
In a split second, everything stopped.
Time itself seemed to freeze, as though the very laws of reality had been suspended. No one could move. No one could speak. The Cardinal World itself lay still, like a painting in motion. Every creature, every Demon Lord, every angel, every Insectar—all paralyzed. The only thing that remained was a feeling, a presence unlike anything the world had ever felt before.
Within the stillness, only one voice could be heard.
Guy Crimson, battered and broken, his body lying in the ruins, managed to speak, his voice faint but clear. "He's finally made his move."
The world around him seemed to bend in response, his words shaking the very air.
In the heart of the frozen world, there was no sound. Only an eerie silence filled the space, and then—
A flash of light.
A sudden, blinding pulse erupted from the center of the world, piercing through the stillness like the crack of a cosmic whip. Varvatos rose from the ground, his form towering like a god reborn. His presence was so immense that it felt as though the fabric of the universe was bowing before him. The air around him began to distort, twisting as if caught in an invisible vortex.
The sky above him cracked open like shattered glass, and the universe itself recoiled at the overwhelming surge of power he unleashed. His eyes glowed with an ethereal, godlike radiance, his very being humming with cosmic energy that was both beautiful and terrifying.
For the first time in history, Varvatos revealed the full extent of his power.
His form seemed to bend reality itself. The light around him was so pure it burned the air. The darkness that followed was as deep as the void itself, swirling in contrast. His energy fluctuated like a tempest of chaos, each pulse of power reverberating across the Cardinal World, shaking the foundations of reality.
The Angels, the Insectars, even Feldway and Zelanus—all felt it. Their bodies, locked in place, trembled as the sheer magnitude of Varvatos' presence assaulted their senses. Feldway's usually unshakable confidence faltered for the first time. Zelanus, who had once believed himself a harbinger of divine power, felt the weight of his own existence being questioned.
Varvatos' voice, when it finally came, was like the rumbling of the earth itself. It echoed across all of existence, a sound that vibrated in the very core of every living being.
"Enough."
It was a command, a decree—no plea for mercy in the words, only the unmistakable certainty that Varvatos would bring this to its conclusion. The world seemed to grow silent again. And then—
Varvatos, rising higher, his body shimmering with celestial power, spoke again.
"Kharnath."
It was not a word. It was a force, a command of nature. The very air around him split, a wall of pressure that bent the reality of all within its reach. In an instant, every angel, every Insectar, every being who stood against him felt it—their forms began to flicker, their existence starting to break down like a structure under immense strain.
Angels screamed as their bodies began to melt into pure light—not fading away, but being reduced to nothingness. Their wings turned to dust, their faces contorted in pain as they were undone by the very fabric of existence.
The Insectars disintegrated in a similar fashion, their chitinous forms cracking and collapsing into black dust that vanished in the air.
But this was just the beginning.
Feldway and Zelanus, struggling against the immense energy of Varvatos, watched in horror as their forces were wiped out. Feldway's eyes widened as his form flickered, his body beginning to lose substance.
"No… no! This can't be happening…" Feldway gasped, his voice filled with disbelief. "I was so close. So close to bringing back Veldanava…"
But Varvatos was not listening. His eyes locked onto the two of them—Zelanus, the once mighty celestial being, and Feldway, the one who had dreamed of a new world.
"No more."
His voice was the crack of a cosmic whip. Reality itself seemed to fold in on itself around the two of them. As Varvatos raised his hand, the very fabric of the universe shattered. Space bent, the vortex of chaos swirling around them, and then—
"Atem-Slythaan!"
The world froze in a moment of pure chaos as the words left Varvatos' lips.
In that moment, the sky above them split wide open, and from the depths of the universe, a black void emerged—an abyss so deep, so consuming, that it devoured everything in its path. Feldway and Zelanus, their bodies beginning to disintegrate, were sucked into the void, their forms pulled apart as their souls were ripped from their very essence.
They screamed in agony, but there was no escape. There was no hope.
They were condemned to eternal suffering, trapped in a place where time itself ceased to exist, where darkness ruled and nightmares would plague them forever.
With one last flick of his fingers, Varvatos cast another spell, the light around him flaring up in a blinding burst. The Cardinal World trembled under the weight of this final act. The world was broken, but now—it would be restored.
In a single, majestic flash, everything began to heal. The ruined cities, the burned forests, the shattered mountains—all returned to their former state, untouched by the chaos. Life began to grow again—trees sprouted, rivers flowed. The world that had once been on the brink of collapse was now reborn, alive, as though nothing had ever happened.
Varvatos, standing in the middle of it all, looked down at the Demon Lords—Velzard, Velgrynd, Veldora, and Milim—still standing, their wounds healed, their power restored.
"Rest," he said softly. "The battle is over."
The Cardinal World would never forget this day. Varvatos had shown the true meaning of power, and in his wake, he left a world that would forever bear the marks of his divine will.
The end of the war. The beginning of a new age.