-----------------------
A/N: If you can, please support me on Patreon.
Link: www.Patreon.com/Gottle
(No spaces btw)
Can read up to 40 chapters ahead.
Link to my channel: https://youtu.be/4doBFlJkXNo
Channel name: Gottle
Check out my channel too, guys... would really appreciate it.
----------
The skies above had long since turned dark—not from nightfall, but from the sheer force of two absurd existences clashing.
On one end, Zalario, the Primordial Angel, floated with effortless grace. His wings shimmered with white and gold brilliance, and the divine pattern of Judgement King: Israfil rippled around him like a spatial grid—dominating the area, slicing through reality with surgical precision.
On the other end, Guy Crimson, hair wild and red as flame, stood grounded. His smile was gone, replaced by a focused glare. Crimson magicules surged around him, his aura like a storm barely held together by willpower.
Zalario's voice was calm—almost too calm.
"This battlefield is mine, Guy. Space, movement, matter—all respond to me. Your strikes, your steps, even your magic… it's all seen before it happens."
He raised a single hand—and in an instant, a spatial slash opened directly over Guy's shoulder.
It struck true—or it should have.
But Guy didn't move.
He stood his ground, even as a slice of blood sprayed from the clean wound on his shoulder.
He didn't flinch.
He didn't stagger.
He just smiled.
"Is that the best you got, Primordial Angel?"
Zalario narrowed his eyes slightly.
"...That cut should have sent you crashing into the ground. You're resisting Israfil's dominance."
[Unique Skill: Pride – Active]
Within Guy's soul, his pride flared like a burning star.
"Hmph. That fancy Ultimate Skill of yours—sure, it controls space."
"But Pride?" He grinned. "It controls me."
As long as Guy's will remained unshaken—as long as he believed he would not fall—his body refused to collapse. Every slash, every spatial distortion, he endured through sheer force of ego and self-assurance.
Mental interference? Nullified. Spiritual pressure? Rejected. Collapse from damage? Denied.
"I don't care if you cut space itself, Zalario."
"I'm still standing. That's all that matters."
[Clash of Titans Continues]
Zalario raised both hands now, wings spreading.
"Judgement Grid: Divine Fold."
Golden lines shimmered across the entire battlefield—a high-tier spatial field where everything could be bent, reversed, or erased.
He launched forward like a flash of holy light—slashes coming from impossible angles, punches that folded through warped space, and strikes that bent around Guy's defenses.
And yet—
Guy's eyes kept up.
His body moved just enough. His pride refused to collapse.
He fought like a beast cornered, a king insulted, a god challenged.
"HAAAAAAH!" he roared, unleashing a spiral of crimson magicules that blew apart several of the floating grids—temporarily staggering the field.
The two clashed again—fists slamming into magic, space folding over flame, and divine light meeting chaotic wrath.
[Evenly Matched… For Now]
Floating back slightly, Zalario finally exhaled.
"As expected of you, Guy Crimson. You've adapted faster than anticipated."
Guy cracked his neck, grinning again.
"You're strong, no question. But you're going to need more than clean cuts and holy wings to put me down."
"Because I'm not losing this."
The once-quiet meadow was a distant memory.
Now, only twisting shadows and shattered space remained—where light struggled to escape and time itself felt slower.
Misery stood amidst shattered ground and warped space, breathing a little heavier. Despite her elegance and confidence, her spatial shields had been shattered, her barrier distortions countered, and her teleports predicted.
Across from her, Karlos stood calmly—back straight, silver eyes glowing like dying stars. The air around him pulsed with darkness, yet it moved with rhythm and grace.
"You're fast, Primordial Green. Smart too," he said softly, his voice smooth like silk.
"But I've danced with chaos itself. And I always lead."
[Ultimate Skill: Abyss King – Nox]
The space around Karlos was not empty—it was filled with void threads, barely visible, layered like a web. They shimmered with black-purple hues, manipulating the battlefield like a chessboard of shadows.
Void Step—He blinked through space, not teleporting, but moving through the gaps in reality Misery couldn't read.
Shadow Fold—Attacks that should've grazed or pierced him instead vanished, folded into nothing.
Dark Reflection—Her own spatial blades were returned at skewed angles, as if the void was mocking her moves.
[Battle—Elegance Over Chaos]
Misery lunged with a rapid spatial displacement—instantly appearing behind Karlos and thrusting a blade of compressed space through his chest.
Or so she thought.
Fwip—! She phased through a shadow double, vanishing in smoke.
"Tch—an illusion?"
"No," Karlos said from above, floating effortlessly, the shadows parting beneath his feet. "A lesson. Never blink in a battle ruled by darkness."
He extended a hand, and dozens of black tendrils of anti-light exploded outward—moving with unnatural synchronicity.
Misery raised her multi-dimensional barriers, folding space and layering them to scatter the attack—but the moment the first tendril touched her shield, it imploded silently.
Crack. Crack. CRASH!
Her spatial dome shattered like fragile glass—something no non-Primordial should have done.
"You're using spatial compression barriers. Clever," Karlos noted. "But they weren't made to handle conceptual void."
[Misery: Forced into Defense]
She clicked her tongue and backed away, using Instant Shift to flicker around Karlos, striking from different angles—but each time her strike was met with an elegant parry or dodged before it even landed.
"How are you—"
"I see the shadows of your intention, Misery. Before you move... I already know where you'll be."
His Abyss Eye, a secondary ability born from Nox, allowed him to read spatial distortion ripples—predicting teleport vectors and energy shifts milliseconds before they triggered.
Misery was powerful. A born predator. But Karlos was a dancer in the dark.
[Closing the Curtain]
Misery panted softly now—her grace starting to fade under pressure.
Karlos slowly walked toward her, each step causing the grass to wither under his feet as void energy radiated outward.
"I won't lie, you're strong. But you're fighting the wrong type of monster."
He flicked his hand once.
A curtain of darkness rose behind him—the Night King's Domain—casting a shadow that devoured light itself.
Misery tried to teleport away, but her signal was cut off—space itself was frozen within the domain.
"What—!?"
"You're in my theater now, Misery. And it's closing time."
With a graceful step, Karlos vanished, then reappeared behind her, hand gently tapping her back.
In that moment, all the void threads wrapped around her, locking her motion.
Misery's eyes widened.
"A capture-type… that clean?"
He whispered beside her ear:
"Take a rest, Primordial Green. You fought well. But this is where your part ends."
A final pulse of darkness, and Misery was knocked unconscious, wrapped in a cocoon of shadow—bound, but unharmed.
Karlos exhaled, dusting off his gloves.
"And that's how it's done. With elegance."
The storm had changed.
Where once Rain danced casually through battle—phasing, freezing, misdirecting—now she stood with eyes narrowed, expression dead serious.
Across from her stood Reinhart, his silver hair flowing behind him like a banner of hope, his now god-class sword glowing with divine radiance. Golden runes pulsed along the blade's length, and his body emitted an aura so brilliant it was as if the sun itself stood behind him.
The battlefield, scarred and battered from their clash, now felt... balanced.
They were equals.
For now.
[Clash of Titans—Equal Ground]
Rain lunged, warping space to appear above Reinhart, her glaive slicing downward with brutal grace. Reinhart stepped into the swing—Future Sight guiding him—and brought his blade up in a perfect parry.
CLANGGG—!!
The shockwave from the clash cracked the earth below, launching debris in every direction.
They vanished again—reappearing midair as their weapons struck and sparked repeatedly like stars colliding.
Rain growled under her breath.
"You've gotten fast…"
"And you've gotten serious," Reinhart replied, eyes locked onto hers.
[Rain: Mist Queen Unleashed]
Rain kicked back, warping several meters away in a blink. She planted her glaive in the ground. The temperature dropped instantly.
Frost spread in a circle around her as mist billowed up from her feet—thick and glowing blue.
"Fine… You've earned it, Hero."
"I'll stop playing."
Her body glowed with magicules, the air around her warping and bending unnaturally. Her glaive floated beside her as her hands moved through intricate gestures.
"Let me show you why I was feared in the age of True Dragons."
[Rain's Full Power – Domain: Mirror Frost]
The world shifted—frozen mist formed a mirrored battlefield. Dozens of illusory Rains appeared all around Reinhart, each moving in perfect synch with a slight delay.
"Try guessing now."
She vanished.
Reinhart closed his eyes briefly.
"Hope King – Destiny Guidance."
Golden light exploded from his body again—reality shimmered, and the flow of battle tilted subtly in his favor.
He swung—perfectly timed—and deflected the real Rain as she tried to ambush him from behind.
CLANG!
She gritted her teeth. "You're cheating."
"Nope," he replied, pushing her back. "I'm just hopeful."
[Clash of Concepts—Causality vs. Spatial Mastery]
Rain unleashed a barrage of slicing frost blades, warping between spots with mirror-phase clones that kept flickering in and out of existence.
Reinhart, now glowing with a subtle halo, moved like a blur—his blade cutting through illusions, deflecting real attacks with increasing precision.
Rain was fast. Terrifyingly so. Her movements were nearly dimensionally distorted—but Reinhart now moved with preordained advantage. Fate, luck, and prediction guided his hand.
Their weapons clashed again —
SLASHCRACKFREEZEDEFLECT
Over and over, light and frost collided, the battlefield a whirlwind of magic and metal.
[Rain's Rage, Reinhart's Resolve]
Rain finally leapt back, panting—not from exhaustion, but frustration.
"You're actually pushing me."
Reinhart, blood dripping down one cheek, held his blade steady.
"And you haven't seen the last of it."
"What are you fighting for, human?" Rain demanded. "Your kingdom? Your friends? Your pride?"
Reinhart's expression hardened.
"All of it. But mostly…"
He pointed the blade at her, golden light swirling along its edge.
"For the future we still have left."
Rain narrowed her eyes—then smirked, finally entertained.
"Then let's make this a real fight."