The world held its breath…
But hell would not wait.
Aisha advanced.
She did not run—she danced.
She glided through the air with absolute precision. Her feet touched the ground only when necessary, as if gravity were a suggestion, not a rule.
Azaroth responded with a torrent of darkness. His hands tore through the air, and in the space, red fissures opened like wounds in the fabric of the world. From them emerged streams of solid smoke, serpents of shadow trying to seize Aisha.
But she did not see with her eyes.
She saw the flow.
Every vibration in the energy field around her.
Every intention. Every breath. Every lie of the body.
She spun at the last second. Cut through the air with the ethereal sword—the blade disintegrated the chains with a sound of ancient bells shattering.
Azaroth frowned. For an instant. And then he split into five.
Five Azaroths, each a solid mirage, attacking from different angles.
A strike from above. Another from the side. A low kick. A stab from behind.
But Aisha did not hesitate.
With a spin of her heel, the world slowed.
She felt each of their heartbeats—false or not.
And then she responded.
An elbow to one.
A headbutt to the second.
A slash to the third's jugular.
She crouched. Pushed with her legs.
An upward knee shattered the fourth clone's jaw.
Silence.
Only the real one remained.
Azaroth emerged with stellar speed, wreathed in black flames, his fists clenched with pulsating runes—demonic symbols chanting the name of Zepharion.
He struck.
The impact was brutal. The punch to Aisha's abdomen cracked the ground for hundreds of meters. The temple behind her collapsed in a deafening roar.
Aisha flew like a missile. But before hitting the ground, she spun in the air, drove her sword into the earth, and halted her fall with a tear of violet light.
She stood up with blood in her mouth and a smile.
— It hurts… But you missed something.
— Hm? — Azaroth grunted, curious.
She cracked her neck, the bandages over her eyes stained red.
— I am not the same since Dante burned my eyes.
I died.
And what came back feels no fear.
She advanced again, but this time, she sheathed the sword.
Close combat.
It was suicide. Azaroth was a perfect vessel, nearly invincible. But Aisha was the storm hidden behind the mountain.
The blows came in impossible sequences. Elbows, knees, an open palm to the solar plexus, a reverse elbow to the chin.
She manipulated energy like poison.
Every strike was an infection.
Azaroth retreated.
Something was wrong. His arm… failed for a second.
Aisha noticed.
— Feel that?
— What…?
She spun in the air with lethal grace and struck the side of his neck with two extended fingers.
— Your end began when you underestimated me.
His left arm stopped. One eye bled.
Regeneration tried to keep up, but Aisha's spiritual poison spread like the Black Death inside him.
Azaroth roared.
The earth split.
Pillars of black flesh and demonic energy emerged from the ground like columns of hell. He lost control.
— ENOUGH!
His bones cracked. His eyes turned completely black. A wing made of veins and metal sprouted from his back, pulsing like a living larva.
He became the demon.
The form few had seen and none survived.
— Then come — Aisha whispered. — Show me why the world fears your name.
And the sky was swallowed by shadows.
And the light descended through her sword like a final sun.
The darkness enveloping Azaroth pulsed like a second heart—black, alive, hungry.
Every step Aisha took seemed to defy the laws of the world.
She did not see with her eyes—she saw with her soul.
And her soul… was a blade.
The ethereal sword in her hand spun through the air like a sacred comet.
Each of her strikes was not just force—it was a sentence.
And more: it was poison.
Azaroth retreated.
The blood flowing from his shoulder evaporated into black smoke, but something was wrong.
The regeneration did not come.
The pain did not fade.
His flesh… screamed.
-----------------"This poison… burns even my demonic roots."----------------------
Aisha advanced, swift.
Every movement of hers seemed to already know where he would be.
She danced between his strikes, cut through the air, wounded what could not be wounded.
Azaroth gritted his teeth, his pride shattering into fragments.
--------"She is… different. Not just strength. It's design. A lethal creation."---------
He launched himself into a leap, spreading his distorted wings—made of shadows fused with bone.
From above, he fired spears of putrid energy.
Aisha raised her arm. Her aura exploded into a vortex.
The spears disintegrated before touching her.
And then…
The memory came.
An ancient whisper, buried in memories he preferred to forget.
"Lord Azaroth, a strange child was born in the southern territory…"
"She cannot form a pact with any demon."
"They reject her. Flee from her. Some… die just from being near her."
At the time, he had merely waved a dismissive hand.
"Let the fate of that aberration be sealed. Exiled. Or killed."
And now…
He saw.
It was her.
The child the demons hated.
The rejected one.
The living curse.
Aisha.
The perfect demon hunter.
Azaroth staggered, but not from a blow.
It was the terror that invaded his soul.
The realization of what stood before him.
The total opposite of his existence.
He, the perfect vessel for demons.
She, the inevitable ruin of them all.
Aisha spun in the air, stepping on a broken wall and launching herself in a lightning charge.
The ethereal sword in her hand seemed to vibrate with ancestral hunger.
Azaroth tried to block, but the blade tore through his skin, piercing his defense as if it were rotten paper.
Black veins exploded across his skin, and he felt—the poison was spreading faster now.
-------------"She does not fight out of rage… She fights by destiny."----------------
The earth trembled under their feet.
The temple behind Aisha gleamed with forgotten crests, as if the ghosts of ancient warriors were blessing her.
She paused for a second, her chest heaving.
— Azaroth… — she said, her voice laden with truth — you do not understand what I am, because you have never truly needed to feel fear.
She raised her arm. The aura around her formed spirals.
It was not light. Nor darkness.
It was spiritual poison. Pure. Alive.
— But now… you are afraid.
Azaroth roared, his wings expanding like walls of living darkness.
But within the night… he was sweating.
And for the first time in centuries… Azaroth felt cold.
"This girl… is going to kill me."
The battle was far from over.
But the monster was already beginning to unravel.
And Aisha, the aberration denied by demons, finally showed the world why she was born.
To be continued…