Lucien and Seryx circled each other at the center of the Crucible's arena. The ground beneath them groaned—cracks spiderwebbing outward as the battle's raw power shredded the arena's normally indestructible floor. After each strike they traded it left shockwaves that bent reality itself.
Lucien darted first towards Seryx: a blur of a violet and blue flame came to life. He used his new Purgeflame Pulses and Lucien teleported toward Seryx's chest. But Seryx phased out of existence, each pulse phasing through him only to rematerialize behind Lucien, forcing him to spin away from fractal blades slicing the air where he'd stood.
He's fast—impossibly fast. Lucien's mind raced, adrenaline sharpening his senses. But I can easily match his speed now. Focus. He compressed time in his consciousness, eyes locking in on Seryx's faint aura flicker—just enough to predict a blink before it happened.
Seryx's voice, layered and calm, echoed in Lucien's ears: "Your will is very strong. I must admit that, but still too small." He stalked forward, raising a hand that rippled the multiverse—hundreds of version from different universes of Seryx echoes lunged, each blade aiming to impale Lucien's heart.
Lucien's rings flared: a bubble of Total Venom Erasure enveloped him, dissolving temporal blades before they struck. He countered Seryx with a cosmic punch so powerful it shattered three pillars at once.
Yes—he finally faltered. For the first time joy sparked in Lucien's chest. Keep the pressure on him. He surged, every footstep a hammer blow, flame tearing grooves in stone.
But Seryx stood up again—Temporal Mirror Haven rippling into place, turning Lucien's own Cosmic Punch back on him. "Your predictable," Seryx murmured, frustration threading his voice. For the first time, Lucien heard it: a crack in Seryx's composure.
He's me, at some level. He feels. He has emotions. He is human. Lucien smirked beneath his white glowing hair. Lucien started by channeling his Higher-Dimensional Manipulation, he bent a shard of reality into a blade and hurled it. It struck Seryx's shoulder, drawing a flicker of pain from his aura.
Seryx staggered—just enough for Lucien to continue. Lucien pressed the advantage, boots slamming into ground to launch himself overhead. But Seryx teleported under him, emerging on the far side with a mocking bow. "Those powers are impressive," he sighed, "but not enough. You still need to go all out. Leave your humanity behind Lucien. Throw that ring away and become the god that destroys everything."
A stalemate reformed—blades against flame, echo versus echo. Neither of them could land a solid shot or a killing blow, but Lucien's momentum had shifted. The battle-worn arena trembled, pillars buckled, time-rifts widened—a testament to their clash of nigh-omnipotent wills.
Millions or even billions of miles away, sunlight fractured across the Grand Canyon's vast expanse. Archer stood before a pillar of dark flame pulsating like a beating heart. It was the King of Hell, manifesting himself in the mortal realm.
"Archer Irving," the King's voice echoed in the cave, resonant with infernal authority. "Our vessel of vengeance fights in his final trial. His heart is leaning on vengeance. Soon his choice will crown you and you will become my succeser or he will choose differently and you´ll be doomed forever."
Archer's wings started to form. His black wings ruffled in the canyon breeze. "He's still holding back," he said. "Lucien wants to save everyone without losing his humanity."
A shadowed grin lit the King's flaming eyes. "That is precisely why he will choose vengeance over hell. Love demands sacrifice. Vengeance grants power. And through that power, you shall ascend and the new King of Hell. You´ll be the first ever King of Hell to unleash its true power and to move freely between realms. So my last wish is. Kill Lucien and burn the precious earth that my mother made."
Archer clenched his fists. "I want to lead an army of Hell. A legion that reshapes this world. If Lucien chooses vengeance over hell, then i will fulfill your final wish."
The King's flame roared higher. "Thank you Archer. Let him see the cost of mercy. Let him feel the weight of protection—even as Earth fractures below him."
Thunder rolled through the canyon. Archer nodded, wings folding. "I will stoke the shadows. Soon, the world will suffer for the King of Hell's true power—and Lucien will answer that suffering and he will die by my hands."
As the King of Hell vanished in a pillar of brimstone light, the Grand Canyon trembled, cracks forming in the red stone—an omen of the war that would erupt on Earth once Lucien's verdict was sealed.
Across the globe, the King of Hell's influence became more obvious. The planet's rotation accelerated. Days now lasted twenty-three hours. Lucien had been away for a month now. Time flows differently in the Crucible then on earth. Around 45 minutes to an hour in the Crucible translates to a month on earth. Skyscrapers in Paris froze mid-collision, birds suspended in flight like marionettes caught by invisible strings. In Tokyo, trains hovered on frozen rails; in New York and Miama, traffic lights glowed in perpetual halts. Time itself had become a fractured mosaic.
The worst part was that at night, new Hell-spawn warriors emerged—twisted reflections of the King's power. They were atleast high level 3 monsters. Most of them were low level 2. They poured through rifts in reality that the King of Hell made, descending on every continent possible. Their screams echoed through silent streets, and desperate citizens scattered.
The Nightguard Corps mobilized worldwide. Command centers in every country burned through tactical protocols as Divisions One through Five scrambled fighters to hotspots. The English Division I squad teleported into Paris's streets, only to find entire blocks suspended in mid-air.
It's like fighting ten thousand battles at once, one Corps captain radioed, voice trembling. We can't hold them all. Its too much. We are going to die.
Yet after every setback the Nightguard would not yield. Across continents, they formed human shields, pulled survivors from temporal traps, and struck Hell-spawn with synchronized assaults. Each victory was small but needed; each breach widened. Each death a sacrifice. Earth's sky glowed ominously—blood-red at the horizon, indigo at the zenith.
In a other dimension, the Crucible's sphere loomed—a dark tear in the heavens. Then in the underworld The King of Hell's laughter echoed on the wind, promising the end of the earth if Lucien chose mercy over vengeance.
Back in the Crucible, the timer on Lucien's ring ticked down to 7 minutes and thirty seconds. Sparks of divine energy crackled around him. Seryx grinned—a predator ready to feast.
Lucien raised his left arm to the sky. Reality shimmered. Tens of thousands of swords. Lucien yielded 100 000 blades in the sky forged from pure vengeance—rained down over Seryx's head. They fell at irrelevant speed, each edge glowing with enough force to sunder galaxies. Seryx could react to a lot of them. But even he knew most of the blades would hit him.
Rylen, Ayumu, Jason, and the rest gasped from the boundary.
"Did he just summon a hundred thousand swords?" Rylen whispered, eyes wide.
Jason's gauntlets crackled. "So thats the true power of Vengeance!"
Emiluna pressed her hands together. "Please be careful Lucien."
Kagetsu's blade dripped with anticipation. "This is it, Lucien is going to win."
The swords struck in a single, thunderous volley. Seryx's shields—Antangenheit-Reflection and Temporal Mirror Haven—flared, but not enough. thousands of swords still bit into him. Lucien seized the moment, charging forward with fifty consecutive Cosmic Punches—no wind-up, each blow a shattering nova. Then it came.
Fifty cosmic punches that felt like infinite big bangs hit Seryx. The warden knee buckled. The arena trembled. Pillars collapsed, rifts widened into gaping chasms, and gravity stuttered.
For an instant, the Crucible fell silent as Seryx's his golden obsidian armor cracked, and he sank to one knee.
But like a storm unbroken, he rose. He had instant regeneration and immortality in all forms. Dark flames swirling, aura blazing hotter than ever. His mask reformed; his blades reassembled. He met Lucien's gaze without fear.
7:00 remained on the ring's timer.
They stood face to face. It looked like two gods forged from opposite wills, ready to tear the universe apart in the final minutes of Lucien's trial.
Tick.