The battlefield in England burned.
Flames swallowed entire streets. Buildings crumbled into dust. Hunters clashed with demons in desperate waves, their screams drowned beneath the chaos of war.
At the center of it all stood Draven Ashford.
And before him… Varkor.
Without hesitation, Draven moved.
In a flash, he dashed forward, his blade cutting through the air with deadly precision. The strike landed clean against Varkor's neck—
CRACK.
Draven's sword shattered instantly.
The pieces fell to the ground.
Draven's eyes widened as he quickly leapt back, creating distance.
Varkor didn't move.
He looked down at the broken blade pieces, then back at Draven, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Let's talk first," he said casually.
Draven steadied his breathing, his gaze sharp. "Why are you doing this? All of this… the destruction, the killing… what's the point?"
Varkor chuckled.
"I'm not here for a mission. I don't care about humanity, kingdoms, or whatever nonsense you people cling to."
He stepped forward slowly, his presence suffocating.
"I'm here for one thing… the thrill."
His eyes locked onto Draven.
"Fighting someone strong."
A grin widened across his face.
"And from your aura… I can tell you're not weak."
Draven said nothing.
Light gathered in his hand.
In an instant, a radiant blade formed — pure white, glowing with immense power.
His stance lowered.
"Then fight me."
Varkor's smile deepened.
"That's what I wanted to hear."
Draven moved first.
The clash was immediate.
Blades of light struck with speed and precision, cutting through the air again and again — but Varkor didn't dodge.
He didn't even try.
Each strike landed—
And did nothing.
Varkor simply raised his hand, deflecting the attacks with his bare fists. Sparks of light scattered on impact, but his skin remained untouched.
Draven's attacks grew faster.
Sharper.
More aggressive.
Still nothing.
Behind him, his teammates watched in shock.
"His attacks aren't working…" one of them whispered.
Alfred clenched his fists. "We can't just stand here!"
They rushed in together, launching their strongest attacks at Varkor.
Explosions of energy erupted around him—
But when the smoke cleared…
He stood there.
Unmoved.
Unaffected.
Varkor sighed.
"I said I wanted this to be between us."
His gaze darkened.
"Weak people irritate me."
His voice dropped.
"I despise weakness."
In an instant, he vanished.
He reappeared in front of Alfred.
But before he could strike—
CLANG!
Draven intercepted, blocking the attack with his light blade.
The force of it shook the ground.
Draven didn't look back.
"Leave."
They froze.
"Get out of here!" he shouted. "Run as far as you can!"
"Draven—" Alfred started.
"GO!"
There was no hesitation in his voice.
No fear.
Only command.
Daisy grabbed Alfred's arm, pulling him back.
"…we have to trust him," she said quietly.
They retreated.
And now—
It was just the two of them.
The real fight began.
They clashed again.
And again.
And again.
Draven attacked relentlessly, his blade striking from every angle, every direction — but there was no weakness, no opening, no damage.
Varkor absorbed everything.
His strength was overwhelming.
His stamina endless.
Then—
He struck back.
A single punch landed.
Draven was sent flying across the battlefield, crashing through buildings and rubble before slamming into the ground.
Varkor walked forward slowly.
"Is that all?" he said, almost disappointed.
He grabbed Draven by the head, lifting him off the ground.
"This was supposed to be fun."
His grip tightened.
"You're already giving up?"
His voice rose with excitement.
"Try harder… HARDER!"
He flung Draven across the battlefield again like he was nothing.
Draven crashed into a pile of rubble, his body barely responding.
Blood ran down his face.
His vision blurred.
In the distance, his teammates watched helplessly.
Alfred stepped forward.
"I'm going back."
Daisy held him firmly.
"If you go… you'll die."
"He's just a kid like us!" Alfred snapped. "Why is he the one carrying everything while we just stand here?!"
Daisy's grip tightened.
"…because he chose to."
Silence fell.
Alfred clenched his fists, watching.
Understanding.
Draven lay still.
His body screamed in pain.
His strength… fading.
"…is this how I die?" he thought weakly.
"I never accomplished anything…"
"Everything I have… was given to me…"
His breathing grew shallow.
"I was never special…"
A pause.
"…Ronan…"
His eyes softened slightly.
"I wonder what you're doing right now…"
"…I guess this is the end."
Footsteps approached.
Varkor stood over him.
"I know you're stronger than this," he said calmly.
"There's something inside you."
His eyes narrowed.
"I can see it."
Silence.
Then—
Light.
A faint glow flickered beneath the rubble.
At first, it was weak.
Small.
Like the final spark of a dying flame.
But then—
The ground began to tremble.
Varkor's smile slowly faded.
The air itself started vibrating violently as waves of radiant energy erupted from beneath the destroyed battlefield.
CRACK.
The rubble exploded outward.
A pillar of blinding white light shot into the sky.
Clouds split apart instantly.
The entire battlefield froze.
Hunters.
Demons.
Everyone turned toward the overwhelming surge of power.
Draven slowly rose from the ruins.
But something was different.
No—
Everything was different.
His body floated slightly above the ground, wrapped in streams of pure white energy that twisted around him like living flames.
His eyes glowed completely white.
Emotionless.
Cold.
Divine.
And above his head—
A crown of light formed.
Not a normal crown.
It looked ancient.
Sacred.
Like something that never belonged in the human world.
The moment it appeared—
BOOOOOOM!!
An enormous shockwave exploded outward, vaporizing the surrounding rubble and sending demons flying across the city.
Even Varkor slid backwards.
For the first time since the battle began—
His expression changed.
Not fear.
Excitement.
Pure excitement.
His grin slowly widened.
"…finally."
The pressure pouring from Draven became unbearable.
The ground beneath him cracked endlessly.
Buildings collapsed from the force alone.
The sky itself dimmed beneath the overwhelming radiance.
Draven slowly lifted his head.
And vanished.
BOOM!!
Varkor barely raised his arm in time before Draven's punch landed directly against his guard.
The impact distorted the air itself.
A crater hundreds of meters wide exploded beneath them.
Varkor was launched backwards violently, crashing through multiple buildings before regaining control midair.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…fast."
Before he could react—
FLASH!!
Draven appeared behind him instantly.
A blade of condensed light formed in his hand—
SLASH!!
For the first time—
Blood spilled from Varkor's body.
The demon looked down at the wound across his chest.
Then laughed.
A deep, unhinged laugh.
"YES!!"
His aura exploded violently.
Black and crimson energy erupted from his body like a storm, swallowing entire sections of the battlefield.
The pressure became monstrous.
Demons nearby were crushed by the force alone.
Varkor lunged forward.
Their fists collided—
BOOOOOOOM!!!
The sky split apart.
Shockwaves tore through England.
Entire streets were erased from the impact.
Draven attacked again.
And again.
And again.
Each movement faster than the last.
His attacks no longer looked human.
It was as though light itself had taken form and started fighting.
Varkor roared with excitement as he swung wildly, destroying everything around him.
But now—
He couldn't touch Draven anymore.
Every strike missed by inches.
Every counterattack landed perfectly.
A punch to the ribs.
A knee to the jaw.
A slash across the shoulder.
Varkor's body began accumulating wounds rapidly.
And for the first time in centuries—
He was being overpowered.
The demon's grin slowly twisted.
Not from joy anymore.
From disbelief.
"What ARE you?!"
Draven said nothing.
His expression remained cold.
Empty.
Almost godlike.
Varkor roared and unleashed everything.
His full power exploded outward in one catastrophic burst.
Black energy consumed the battlefield.
The city shook violently.
But through the darkness—
A single light remained.
Draven.
Floating silently within the storm.
Untouched.
Then—
He raised his hand.
The crown above his head shined brighter than ever before.
The light condensed around his arm.
The entire battlefield trembled violently.
Even the sky cracked apart from the pressure.
Varkor sensed it immediately.
For the first time—
Instinct.
Danger.
Death.
Draven moved.
One step.
And the world flashed white.
SLASH.
Silence.
The storm vanished instantly.
The pressure disappeared.
The battlefield became still.
Varkor stood frozen.
His eyes widened slowly.
A thin line of light appeared across his body.
Then—
His body split apart completely.
Blood scattered across the ruined battlefield.
The mighty demon collapsed.
Defeated.
Silence consumed everything.
Draven stood there quietly.
The crown above his head flickered weakly.
The immense power surrounding him slowly faded away.
The light in his eyes disappeared.
His body trembled.
Cracks of exhaustion spread through him instantly.
Then—
He collapsed forward.
Unconscious.
And for the first time since the war began—
The battlefield around Draven Ashford became completely silent.