Mike didn’t know how long it had been—years, centuries, maybe even longer. Time had become meaningless. All he knew was that the battle had never stopped. Every time he thought he might have a moment’s reprieve, another wave of demons rushed him, their grotesque forms shifting and screaming as they charged. His sword swung tirelessly, cutting through the endless horde, while his magic lit up the darkness around him, turning the twisted landscape into a hellish battlefield.
His body had been torn apart more times than he could count. Claws had ripped his limbs clean off, his bones shattered under the crushing blows of demonic fists, but each time, he regenerated instantly. His flesh knit itself back together, his bones reformed, and his wings unfurled behind him, ready for the next assault. He had become an unstoppable force, his regeneration on par with that of Eckheart, the legendary Pillar of the North, who once stood as humanity’s greatest warrior. But unlike Eckheart, Mike wasn’t fighting for glory or to defend an empire—he was fighting for two people. Altheack and Sophia.
In doing so, Mike had succeeded where even the gods had failed. Merik, the god of humanity, and Anna Sha, the Demon Lord of the lower realms, had once been lovers, twisted together in their ambition to create the perfect vessel for divine and infernal power. They had two children, Eckheart and James. The Pillar of the North, Eckheart, could wield only holy power, while James was bound solely to demonic energy. Both had fallen short of their creators' vision—unable to contain the perfect fusion of divine and infernal might.
But Mike was different. Like Easton von White, the son of the Pillar, who had shown the potential to wield both, Mike had not just inherited these powers—he had mastered them. He was not merely the sum of their strengths; he was an order of magnitude stronger. With Sophia's guidance steering his magic, he had achieved what neither Merik nor Anna Sha could: becoming the true vessel, the ultimate weapon forged in the fires of both Heaven and Hell. He wasn’t just a pawn in their ancient game—he was the one who would rewrite the rules.
The thought of his loved ones was the only thing that kept him from going mad. Without the Shadow Orb that Zaltheral had once used to navigate the depths of Hell, Mike had no choice but to brute force his way through. He was free of the mind traps the demons had set for him, but his body remained trapped in an endless trial of combat. Every strike of his sword, every spell he cast, was fueled by his need to save Altheack and reunite with his sister. He had freed his mind—now he had to free his body.
His wings had grown over time, large and birdlike, giving him the appearance of a fallen angel, a reflection of his transformation. One wing was as black as the abyss, while the other glowed with a radiant golden light, a physical manifestation of the divine and infernal forces warring within him. His body had grown stronger, larger, and more powerful with every passing moment, muscles rippling beneath the partial armor he had only just begun to forge. A single chest piece, blackened and reinforced with divine energy, covered his torso, the first piece of what would become his unworldly gear.
His face was framed by two horns—one dark and jagged, the other glowing with an ethereal light, further emphasizing the duality within him. His hair, long and violet, cascaded down his back, while a thick, majestic beard of the same deep purple framed his jaw. Though his armor was incomplete, the power radiating from him was undeniable, his very presence a force to be reckoned with as the divine and demonic energies surged through him.
Merik’s power coursed through him, an endless font of divine energy. The god of humanity had whispered in his ear, telling him that Mike had surpassed his last champion, Eckheart, and that he had been chosen as the new vessel for divine power. Mike didn’t know why Merik had chosen him, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that he had the strength to survive this hell.
As Mike stood among the remnants of his enemies, Merik’s voice echoed in his mind, resonating with a divine authority.
"Michael, the armor you wear is only the beginning," Merik's voice thundered, yet it felt intimate, as though it reverberated within his very soul. "You have slain many, but there are more Archdemons lurking in the depths. Hunt them, claim their essence, and forge the armor that will make you invincible. Each piece will bind you closer to my power, to the might of Heaven itself."
Mike clenched his fist, the chest piece on his torso pulsing with divine energy. He could feel the truth in Merik's words—this armor would be his shield, his weapon, his salvation.
"Seek them out, Michael," Merik continued, his voice urging with an ancient intensity. "Their power is yours for the taking. With every Archdemon you destroy, you will grow stronger, and with every piece of armor you forge, you will become the champion humanity needs. Hunt them. Forge your destiny."
Mike’s eyes gleamed with determination. "I will find them, and I will take what’s mine," he muttered under his breath, his wings flaring wide as he prepared for the next hunt.
The hunt for the remaining Archdemons had only just begun.
At the same time, Mike had learned to tap into the very essence of Hell itself. With every demon he killed, he absorbed their power using the necromantic skills he had learned from Sophia during their time as Valicar. Each slain creature’s soul was consumed, fueling him with a dark, primal energy that merged seamlessly with the divine power gifted to him by Merik. It was more than just power—it was transformation, a fusion that transcended the mortal and the infernal. He wasn't merely drawing on demonic or divine forces; he was creating something entirely new, something only seen in the purest, most elemental aspects of nature—raw mana, the very essence of creation itself.
This fusion of divine and infernal energy manifested visibly in his body. His wings, once simple appendages of flight, had become symbols of his transformation. One wing was pure black, shadowed and ominous, radiating the cold, oppressive energy of Hell. The other glowed with radiant light, pulsing with divine strength, its feathers shimmering like shards of heaven. His horns, too, mirrored this balance—one dark and jagged, a twisted mark of his infernal connection, while the other gleamed with a golden glow, smooth and polished like a crown bestowed by the gods.
Even the air around him seemed to bend to his will, a swirling mix of light and darkness that clung to him like an aura. His presence was overwhelming, neither angelic nor demonic but a perfect blend of both. Every step he took left the ground scorched with infernal fire, only for golden light to sprout from the same soil, healing it in an instant. Mike had become something far more than a mere warrior of Heaven or Hell—he was their fusion, a being capable of wielding pure mana, the foundation of all power.
His very existence now bent the laws of nature, creating and destroying with equal ease. Light and shadow, life and death, order and chaos—they all revolved around him, fueling the unstoppable force he had become. He was no longer just Mike. He was a force of creation and destruction, a warrior who had mastered the impossible balance between worlds.
He fought with unbridled fury, casting spells of fire and ice, lightning tearing through the ranks of demons while beams of golden light filled the darkness. Shadow bolts fired by the demons were met with shadow bolts of his own. His voice chanted ancient spells he had learned through Sophia’s memories, his lips forming the words naturally.
“Heasve ma rup!” he shouted, and the sky above darkened as a massive rainstorm of acid and ice materialized. Shards of jagged ice fell from the heavens, shredding through the demonic ranks with ruthless precision, while the acidic rain burned their inky skin, melting flesh and bone alike. Screams echoed across the battlefield as the demons writhed in agony, their forms dissolving under the relentless storm.
“Vuras!” Mike chanted again, his voice carrying over the chaos, amplifying the spell’s potency as the storm intensified, the ice cutting deeper, and the acid devouring everything in its path. The once impenetrable horde was now reduced to disintegrating masses, their bodies succumbing to the elemental onslaught.
For a long time, Mike wielded Blue Dusk, the sword that had seen him through countless battles. But as his power grew, he felt the strain on the blade. It wasn’t enough anymore; the overwhelming force of divine and demonic energy coursing through him was too much for the sword to handle. Cracks began to form along the blade, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it would shatter completely.
Taking a deep breath, Mike called upon Merik’s divine energy and focused it into the sword. The light of the divine merged with the shadow of the infernal, enveloping the weapon in a powerful glow. With a whispered incantation, the sword began to shift and reform, its old shape giving way to something new, something stronger.
As the transformation completed, Mike raised the new sword, its blade now gleaming gold, the hilt made of black ebony, and purple flames of divine and infernal energy danced along its edge. "I name you Demon’s Bane," Mike declared, his voice echoing through the battlefield. This was no ordinary weapon—it was the manifestation of the power he now wielded, a perfect fusion of light and darkness, capable of cutting through even the most powerful demons.
"Heasv ranma!" Mike shouted, his voice carrying over the battlefield as he thrust his hand forward. In an instant, the ground quaked beneath him, and a mountain of ice erupted from the earth, swallowing the demonic horde in its unforgiving embrace. The demons were caught mid-scream, their grotesque forms encased in jagged ice, twisted in eternal agony like frozen statues. The battlefield became eerily still, a chilling monument to Mike's power, their bodies locked in their final, futile attempts to strike him down.
For a moment, silence reigned. The once chaotic landscape, filled with howling demons, was now a frozen wasteland, the air thick with the cold. Jagged spires of ice stretched skyward, trapping the twisted forms of demons within, their dark energy flickering out as they were consumed by the unrelenting freeze. But the respite was brief. The ground rumbled beneath the frozen mountain, and more demons emerged from the shadows, crawling over the bodies of their fallen comrades, their snarls growing louder as they surged toward Mike.
Mike’s grip tightened on Demon’s Bane, the sword pulsing with an otherworldly glow. Purple flames flickered along its edge, a perfect fusion of divine and demonic energy coursing through it. His eyes narrowed, locking onto the approaching swarm, and his lips curled into a sneer of contempt. He could feel the surge of power within him, the fusion of raw mana crackling through his veins, ready to be unleashed.
"Kalu nuyt!" Mike roared, his voice cutting through the air as he raised Demon’s Bane high and brought it crashing down toward the mountain of frozen bodies.
The impact was cataclysmic. The glacier of ice exploded from within, shattering into countless shards that ripped through the battlefield like a storm of deadly missiles. Steam hissed and boiled as the frozen corpses disintegrated, sending jagged ice and gore flying in every direction. The oncoming demons were caught in the blast, their bodies torn apart by the razor-sharp debris. Hundreds fell in an instant, their flesh shredded, their black blood spraying across the battlefield.
The air was thick with the sounds of destruction—the shrieks of dying demons, the hissing of steam, and the sharp crack of ice splintering. The explosion ripped through the demonic horde, leaving behind a scene of utter carnage. The battlefield was a graveyard of broken bodies, twisted limbs, and scattered remains. Yet, in the center of it all, Mike stood unmoved, his wings unfurling behind him like the wings of an avenging angel, casting a shadow over the devastation he had wrought.
The remaining demons hesitated, their bloodlust dampened by the sheer scale of the destruction before them. They stared at Mike, no longer with mindless fury but with fear, as they realized the overwhelming force they were up against. But for Mike, this was only the beginning.
With a cold, defiant stare, Mike prepared to bring his fury down upon the next swarm, the battlefield beneath him forever scarred by his power.
As Mike tore through the next onslaught of demons, their bodies disintegrating in the wake of his power, a massive silhouette appeared on the horizon. The air around it rippled with dark energy, thickening the very atmosphere with the weight of its presence. An Archdemon, towering above the rest, its body an obsidian mass of twisted muscle and jagged bone, eyes burning with the fires of Hell. Its sheer size dwarfed the smaller demons, but it was the aura of malevolent power radiating from it that truly made Mike pause.
Mike raised his hands, power crackling at his fingertips as he began to chant, his voice echoing through the battlefield with ancient, forgotten words. “Laru nor la!” The wind began to swirl around him, forming into a massive, twisting vortex. A tornado, furious and unstoppable, ripped through the demonic horde, tearing them from the ground like leaves in a storm. The air itself screamed as the whirlwind grew, its force pulling thousands of demons into its maw.
“Bacaru!” Mike’s voice thundered across the battlefield, and the tornado erupted into a blazing inferno, purple flames consuming everything within its path. The demonic whirlwind of fire tore across the landscape, vaporizing the demons caught within, their shrieks silenced in the wake of the storm. The inferno raged, creating a blazing barrier of destruction between Mike and the Archdemon, clearing the battlefield in a sea of purple fire.
Thousands of demons were annihilated in the torrent, their bodies reduced to ash as the infernal storm swept them away, leaving only Mike and the towering Archdemon standing on the scorched earth.
He stood firm, gripping Demon’s Bane tighter as the Archdemon approached, its every step shaking the ground beneath him. This wasn’t the power of just one champion—it was the fusion of divine and demonic might, the essence of light and darkness woven into every fiber of his being. Mike had absorbed the power of countless demons, growing stronger with each battle. He wasn’t just a vessel for divine energy like Eckheart, nor was he solely a conduit for demonic power like James. He was something new—something more than both.
The Archdemon stopped a few hundred feet away, its booming voice shaking the very stones underfoot. "I am Ural, the undaunting mortal... your end has come." Its words echoed across the desolate battlefield, the sound as heavy as thunder, as though the demon had no doubt that Mike would fall before it. Its maw stretched into a jagged grin, blackened teeth glinting under the flames of Hell itself, anticipating the kill.
Mike didn’t respond with words—there was no need. His body moved instinctively, wings unfurling with a single powerful beat, launching him into the air like a streak of light and shadow. As he soared upward, Demon’s Bane glowed in his hand, the purple flames along the blade surging with newfound intensity. His mind focused, and the sword began to grow, expanding with each passing second until it matched the colossal size of the Archdemon before him. The transformation was seamless, the blade crackling with both divine radiance and infernal fury.
In one swift motion, Mike brought Demon’s Bane down with all the force he could muster, the power of gods and demons converging into a single, devastating strike. The sword cut through Ural’s towering form like a blade through water, splitting the massive demon from head to toe in a perfect vertical slice. The force of the blow sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield, flattening the ground and sending the remaining lesser demons tumbling backward in terror.
Ural’s body froze for a moment, the echo of its own name dying in its throat as it attempted to register what had happened. Its massive form trembled, fissures of dark energy spreading from the point of impact, before the creature’s body crumbled into two halves, collapsing to the ground in a cloud of blackened dust and fire. The Archdemon—once thought to be indestructible—had been felled in a single stroke.
Mike landed gracefully amidst the chaos, the Demon’s Bane shrinking back to its normal size, still glowing with the ethereal purple flames that marked his unique power. The demon’s remains smoldered behind him, but Mike didn’t have time to savor the victory. More demons were already charging toward him, the endless horde refusing to relent.
His body burned with exhaustion, but his resolve never wavered. He had only one purpose—to save Altheack and to find Sophia. The thought of them gave him strength beyond measure, fueling his every move. There would be no rest, not until he fought his way through the endless swarm, not until he had freed them both from their fates. With his wings spread wide and his sword blazing, Mike turned to face the next wave of demons, ready to continue the fight.
As Mike hovered in the air, his wings a radiant blaze of divine and infernal energy, the battlefield trembled beneath him. Each beat of his massive wings sent waves of scorching heat and shadow across the cursed landscape. But the endless waves of lesser demons paled in comparison to what now gathered around him.
The atmosphere thickened, growing darker as more Archdemons emerged from the abyss. Their enormous, menacing forms cut through the dense steam and smoke, towering over the battlefield's ruins. Black wings, vast and shadowy, stretched wide, casting a deeper gloom across the horde's remnants. Their eyes, burning with Hellfire, locked onto Mike with pure malice and arrogant disdain.
One Archdemon, rippling with obsidian muscles and clad in jagged armor, stepped forward, its voice booming like thunder. "You dare stand against us, mortal?" it growled. "I am Arzath, butcher of gods. You are nothing but a speck before our power."
Another Archdemon, even larger and more grotesque, its body covered in molten, lava-like scales and twisted horns, hissed through gnashing teeth. "I am Zalghor, destroyer of realms. Your power is insignificant before ours."
A third demon, its twisted form pulsating with tendrils of darkness, added, "I am Narvok, consumer of stars. The very heavens weep in my presence. You are nothing but a flicker of light, waiting to be snuffed out."
Then another, cloaked in a shifting mass of black smoke, spoke with a voice like the whisper of death itself. "I am Xorath, the shadow in every corner. I feasted on the souls of dying worlds long before your kind crawled from the dirt."
The others joined in, their voices blending into a cacophony of arrogance, each attempting to outdo the other with boasts of past glories and horrors unleashed during the ancient Creation Wars. "I am Kelzar, breaker of gods!" one roared, its body covered in jagged crystal spikes. "The gods you serve once knelt before me!"
Another, with wings of flame and claws dripping molten blood, snarled, "I am Rekvar, slayer of the Sun Lords. I have extinguished stars and turned galaxies to dust."
Their claims of torn worlds, devoured souls, and crushed gods echoed across the landscape as they circled Mike, drunk on their own inflated egos, believing him to be another victim of their overwhelming might. The battlefield trembled beneath their collective power, each one certain of their own supremacy, their monstrous forms blotting out the hellish sky above.
Mike, however, had had enough. His golden and black wings flared out with a sharp snap, cutting through the air as he tightened his grip on Demon’s Bane, now pulsing with purple flames. His voice cut through the air like a blade, sharp and unrelenting.
“Shut the fuck up.”
The Archdemons paused, their gloating interrupted, and their attention snapped to Mike. He hovered there, eyes burning with divine and infernal power, glaring at the assembled demons with absolute disdain. He was in Hell—he didn’t need to listen to their bullshit.
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“I don’t give a shit about your names,” Mike growled, his voice dripping with contempt and power. “I don’t care what you did in the Creation Wars, or what gods you supposedly crushed. You’re just more demons standing in my way, and all your power will be mine soon enough.”
The arrogance of the Archdemons faltered for a moment, and a flicker of uncertainty crossed their faces. Mike’s words were laced with raw, unshakable confidence—he wasn’t just some mortal stumbling through Hell. He had fused the power of Heaven and Hell itself, wielding it like no being before him.
Mike felt the billions of souls inside of him burning away with each passing moment, fueling the relentless onslaught of his magic. He could sense them being consumed by the millions as he tapped into his limitless reserves of mana. With every spell, every strike, the souls within him were spent like fuel in a raging fire, but he wasn’t worried. Thanks to Merik and the power he had absorbed from Hell, he had an endless supply.
One of the Archdemons lunged at him, claws aimed for his throat, but Mike was already in motion. With a single beat of his wings, he soared higher, Demon’s Bane igniting in his hands. The blade, alight with golden flames and edged with purple, gleamed in the darkness as he twisted in the air, bringing the sword down with brutal precision.
The massive demon beneath him roared in fury as Mike drove Demon’s Bane through its skull, the blade sinking deep into what Mike assumed was its brain. The Archdemon’s scream echoed across the battlefield as its immense body convulsed. Mike twisted the blade, feeling the demon’s life force surging into him as he absorbed its essence through necromancy, drinking in its power.
“Pathetic,” Mike muttered, yanking the sword free as the demon’s body crumbled into ash. The power from the slain Archdemon flooded into him, amplifying his already overwhelming strength. His wings flared brighter, his aura pulsing with the combined might of Heaven and Hell.
As the remaining Archdemons circled him, their confidence shaken, the voice of Merik returned, soft but firm in Mike’s mind.
“Fight, my champion,” the god’s voice whispered, full of ancient power. “You are humanity’s might. The world you came from, long forgotten but found once more.”
Mike didn’t respond, but the divine power surged through him like an electric current, pushing him beyond his limits. He felt the raw fury of Hell at his fingertips, the divine light of Heaven flowing into him through Merik’s endless connection. The battle wasn’t just about survival anymore—he was here to conquer.
Another Archdemon charged, but this time, Mike didn’t wait. He dove down, Demon’s Bane crackling with energy as he sliced through its torso with one clean stroke. The demon roared in agony as its body disintegrated, its power flowing into Mike like a river of molten energy. His body burned with the influx of magic, but he embraced it, pushing forward with unrelenting fury.
The battle raged on, each Archdemon trying and failing to overpower Mike. He fought with everything he had—lightning crackled from his fingertips, beams of golden light tore through the darkness, and shadows danced around him as he absorbed the essence of the demons he killed.
He could feel the millions of souls within him burning away, each one consumed to fuel the relentless storm of necromantic and divine power surging through him. Every Archdemon he struck down became more than just a victory—it was an act of creation. He wasn’t just ending lives; he was reforging them into something greater, something powerful. Their bones, their hides, their very essence became the raw materials of his armor, piece by piece.
As the final Archdemon crumbled into ash, Mike’s hands moved instinctively, gathering the remains—charred bone, scorched hide, and molten blood. The battlefield trembled beneath him as he channeled his necromantic power, his voice a low chant of ancient incantations guiding the raw materials into their new form. Purple flames flared around his hands, binding the fragments together, while Merik’s divine light intertwined with the infernal mass, sealing the creation.
But then, as the last of the materials took shape in his grasp, he glanced down and noticed something off. His right hand—though fully regenerated—was bare. He had been using his magic, but the gauntlet that had once encased his hand was missing. Mike chuckled to himself. “Of course,” he muttered, scanning the battlefield.
His eyes fell upon the gauntlet a few feet away, still smoking from the molten energy of the battle, gleaming with an unnatural sheen. It was a relic he had taken from a fallen Archdemon and reforged with his own necromantic fire. Bending down, Mike retrieved the gauntlet and slid it over his hand, feeling the familiar weight as it locked into place. The dark metal clinked as it reconnected with his newly regrown fingers. He flexed his hand, smirking. “Now we’re back.”
With the gauntlet in place, he turned his attention back to the final piece of his armor: the right pauldron. The blackened bones and demonic hide twisted in his hands, folding and reshaping as he summoned both divine and infernal energy to complete the process. The pauldron began to solidify, jagged and pulsating with the fused power of the souls he had absorbed. It wasn’t just armor—it was a living testament to the might of Hell and Heaven, bound together in a way that had never existed before.
The pauldron clicked into place on his shoulder, completing his armor set. It gleamed dark as the abyss, with sharp, curling edges that pulsed faintly with golden light. The souls within it thrummed, their power coursing through the entire suit, fusing with him, becoming an extension of his own body.
Mike flexed his arm, feeling the immense strength surging through his newly completed armor. His wings unfurled behind him, casting a haunting glow of black and gold across the battlefield. With the right pauldron now secured, his armor shimmered with the combined power of Hell and Heaven, radiating an otherworldly energy.
This final piece marked the completion of his transformation. He had transcended mortality, forging his armor from the essence of Hell’s mightiest demons, infused with limitless mana. He was more than any warrior that had ever existed—more powerful than the gods during the Creation Wars, more unstoppable than any force Hell could summon.
Standing tall, Mike gazed across the battlefield, his black-and-gold armor a testament to the countless lives consumed to fuel his power. With his armor complete, Mike had claimed the power of Hell and Heaven for himself, and he would use it to save the ones he loved. Altheack and Sophia were out there, waiting for him. And nothing—not even the legions of Hell—would stop him from reaching them.
But just as Mike took a breath, the air around him grew heavy. The oppressive darkness thickened, warping the space around him, as though the very fabric of Hell itself was bending to the will of something greater. Something far more ancient and malevolent.
And then, a voice—familiar, chilling, and all too real—echoed through the broken landscape. It wasn’t in his head this time. No, this voice came from the world around him, cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"Michael..."
It was her.
Anna Sha.
The sound of that voice sent a shiver down Mike’s spine, his wings twitching as he turned toward its source. The ground beneath him cracked and trembled, the air thickening with a suffocating pressure as a figure stepped out of the swirling shadows.
Anna Sha’s mocking laughter echoed through the battlefield as she stepped closer, her dark hair swaying with each calculated step. She was a striking figure—eerily beautiful in a way that defied the horrors around them. Her hair, black as the void, cascaded down her back like liquid shadow, absorbing the light around her. Her skin, pale as untouched snow, gleamed with an unnatural, almost ethereal glow, contrasting starkly against the bleak and violent landscape.
Her eyes, however, were the most unsettling—twin pools of pure darkness, voids that seemed to drink in everything they beheld. They held no warmth, no compassion, only a cold, endless black that seemed to mirror the abyss of Hell itself. Her full lips curled into a mocking smile, a contrast to her otherwise deathly still expression, giving her an aura of both seduction and menace. Despite her almost perfect beauty, there was something undeniably sinister about her—an inhuman quality that made her appearance as dangerous as it was alluring.
“You’ve passed the trial of the body, yes," she purred, her voice as smooth as silk, yet laced with poison. "You’ve become something… formidable. But this isn’t just about power. It’s about your soul.”
Mike’s grip on Demon’s Bane tightened, the purple flames along its edge burning brighter. Her words grated on him, especially the way she said his name—so familiar, like she had known him forever. His eyes narrowed, filled with fury. “I don’t care about your damn trials, Anna Sha. I’m done with your games. Give me Altheack, or I’ll fucking end you right here.”
Anna Sha tilted her head, her smile widening as her voice dropped to a more seductive, menacing tone. “Michael, always so eager to fight. You think it’s that simple? You think killing me will solve anything?” She raised her hand, the dark energy crackling around her fingers like a living shadow. “You’ve already proven yourself in the trial of the body, but the trial of your soul is something entirely different. It’s not about how many demons you can kill, or how strong you’ve become. It’s about what’s inside you.”
Mike’s wings flared behind him, his black and golden feathers gleaming as his rage built. He was done with her manipulations, done with her taunts. “You want to talk about what’s inside me, Anna Sha? I’ll show you.” He surged forward, Demon’s Bane blazing in his hands as he swung at her with all his might.
Their blades clashed in a burst of light and shadow, the force of the impact cracking the ground beneath them. Anna Sha was fast, but Mike was faster. His body moved with the fluid grace of someone who had fought through Hell itself, his strikes unrelenting, each one fueled by the divine and demonic powers coursing through his veins.
As their weapons locked, a voice echoed in Mike’s mind, the familiar presence of Merik wrapping around his thoughts like a protective shroud. "Do not listen to her, Michael. She weaves lies into every word. You are not her puppet, nor mine. You are the champion of humanity and the gods. Claim Hell, take the title of Demon Lord for yourself, and you will save Altheack. You will be the one to free her from this torment."
The might of Heaven surged into Mike, merging with the infernal power he had already absorbed. It was a torrent of divine energy, strengthening his body, mind, and soul. With each heartbeat, he felt both forces entwine, making him stronger than ever before.
Mike gritted his teeth, blocking another strike from Anna Sha as her eyes gleamed with malevolent delight. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “You’re just a pawn, Michael. You’re being used by Merik, just like you and your sister were used by me. You’ll never be free.”
Mike pushed her back, his wings beating against the thick air of Hell as he glared at her. “I’m not your puppet, and I’m not Merik’s. I’m here for Altheack and Sophia, and nothing is going to stop me. Not you, not Hell, not Heaven.”
Anna Sha’s dark smile never faltered. Instead, with a flick of her wrist, a portal opened beside her, swirling with inky darkness. Through it, Mike saw Altheack suspended within a large, glowing mana crystal. Her body was encased in shimmering energy, her face peaceful, as if in stasis. Time hadn’t touched her. She looked exactly the same as she had when he last saw her.
Mike’s heart clenched at the sight of her, but Merik’s voice rang in his mind again, a force of divine will. "Michael, you see? Her soul is untouched, preserved for you. She awaits your victory. My holy power flows through you—immortality is already yours, just as it was for Eckheart. But unlike him, you will succeed. You are more than mortal now. You have the power to save her and claim Hell itself."
The weight of centuries pressed on Mike’s shoulders. How many years had he fought? How many eons had passed since he had fallen into this cursed realm? Time had become meaningless, but his love for Altheack had not. She had been his lover across lifetimes, in every incarnation, and that love had only grown stronger with each battle, each moment spent clawing through Hell. He was immortal, yes—Merik’s power had made him so—but immortality without Altheack was a hollow victory.
“You can’t save them both, Michael,” Anna Sha sneered, her voice pulling him back to the present. “You’ll have to choose. Altheack or Sophia. One will live, and one will die. That’s the trial of the soul. Can you handle it? Can you bear the weight of that choice?”
Mike’s heart thundered in his chest, but his resolve didn’t waver. The image of Altheack frozen in time burned into his mind, but so did the memory of his sister, Sophia. He had fought through Hell for both of them. He wasn’t going to sacrifice one for the other. Not again.
“No,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m not choosing. I’ll lose myself before I lose them.”
Anna Sha’s smile twisted into something cruel as their blades locked again. “You still think you can fight fate? You think you can defy the gods and demons alike? Michael, you’ve already sealed your fate. When this is over, you’ll be mine. You’ll become my strongest Archdemon. And when that happens, you’ll beg me for release.”
Her dark energy surged, crackling with the power of Hell itself, but Mike didn’t back down. He could feel the billions of souls inside him burning away, their power fueling his every move. His body, now a fusion of divine and demonic power, pulsed with strength, but it wasn’t just power that drove him forward. It was his will—his unbreakable determination to save Altheack and Sophia, to tear them both from the clutches of Hell and Heaven alike.
“I’ve already made it through Hell,” Mike snarled, his wings flaring wide. “What else can you throw at me? I’ll take everything you have, Anna Sha, and I’ll still win.”
Anna Sha’s eyes gleamed with malice as she circled Mike, the air thick with a palpable tension. With a flick of her wrist, another portal shimmered into existence. It revealed a horrific scene that made Mike’s heart lurch in his chest. His gaze locked onto the sight within the portal—Sophia, his sister, his only family, in her true dragon form.
Her majestic blue scales, once glistening with a sprinkling of vibrant red, were now dulled and slick with blood. Her massive body lay ravaged by battle, her strength fading with each passing moment. One of her colossal arms had been torn clean off at the shoulder, jagged bone protruding from the wound, exposed to the cruel air. Blood flowed in relentless streams from the gaping wound, pooling beneath her and turning the ground into a sea of dark crimson. Her once-proud wings, now tattered and shredded, hung limply at her sides. Every breath seemed a struggle, and her glowing eyes, normally filled with fierce determination, were dulled with pain and exhaustion.
A massive black spike jutted from her back, the dark energy radiating from it causing her to writhe in agony. Her wings, once glorious and proud, were now shredded to tatters. The air around her shimmered with the last remnants of her strength, her massive frame trembling as she struggled to breathe. Her glowing eyes, dulled by pain, barely lifted from the scorched ground. Every twitch of her body seemed to send shockwaves of torment through her, her strength fading with each agonizing moment.
But it wasn’t just the sight of her suffering that shattered Mike’s heart—it was the shadow that loomed behind her. A massive red dragon, its eyes black as voids, moved with purpose, its jaws slowly opening to strike the final blow. Its intent was clear: to finish Sophia once and for all.
The sight of his sister, so broken, so near death, sent a surge of fury and despair through Mike. His grip on Demon’s Bane tightened, the flames along its edge roaring to life as his anger burned hotter than ever.
Anna Sha’s mocking voice slid through the tension like poison. “Look at her, Michael. She’s dying. You may have passed the trial of the body, but the trial of the soul is far more difficult. You can’t save them both. You will fail.”
The familiar voice of Merik cut through his turmoil, calm and commanding. "She lies, Michael. The trial of the soul is not a choice between those you love. It is a test of your strength and will. You are more than this. You can save them both. Believe in your power."
Mike’s heart clenched as he looked between the two portals—Sophia, on the verge of death, and Altheack, trapped in stasis. The weight of the moment pressed down on him, almost paralyzing, but Merik’s words rang true. He had fought for too long, given up too much, to let either of them fall.
He would not choose. He would save them both.
As the red dragon’s jaws closed in on Sophia, ready to tear her throat out, Mike acted without hesitation. Channeling the dark necromantic energy he had mastered, he thrust his hand toward Anna Sha’s portal before she could react. Dark energy surged from him, crossing through the portal in a flash, striking Sophia with a burst of necromantic power. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was enough to buy her time.
Sophia’s strength surged in that moment, her broken body filled with a sudden rush of power. The red dragon’s jaws came within inches of her neck, but she reacted, her eyes flashing with renewed fire. With a mighty roar, she reared up, slamming the red dragon away with a column of ice that burst from the ground beneath her.
Mike’s heart swelled with pride and relief as he watched his sister rise to her feet, her eyes flickering with recognition. Even across dimensions, through the chaos and pain, Sophia’s gaze found Mike’s. Their connection was undeniable. Her eyes, wounded and weary, met his for a brief second, but there was a spark of hope—of renewed strength.
Mike called out, his voice cutting through the roaring battle. “Sophia!”
She heard him, her massive head turning slightly, eyes dull with exhaustion yet filled with a flicker of recognition. Her torn throat trembled as if trying to respond, but no sound came out at first. Her strength was waning, her body barely holding together, but that fleeting connection sparked something deep within her.
She struggled to speak, her throat still slashed and bleeding, but the look in her eyes said everything. Sophia knew he was there. She knew he hadn’t abandoned her. Her lips parted, and with a voice barely a whisper, filled with surprise and emotion, she rasped, “Mike…”
As the necromantic energy coursed through her, the souls burning to save her ravaged body, the gaping wound at her throat began to close, healing slowly but surely. Her voice, weak but alive, echoed with that one word—a reminder that, even on the brink of death, she still recognized him.
Anna Sha’s voice twisted with malice as the portal shut, her snarl cutting through the air like a blade. Dark power swirled around her, thick and suffocating, as the realization of Mike’s defiance sank in. “You pathetic, insolent wretch!” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “You think you can save them? You couldn’t even save yourself! You are nothing here—nothing but a broken, desperate fool. This is my domain, my kingdom, and in it, I am God! I will tear you apart, piece by piece, and your precious Altheack and Sophia will suffer for your arrogance!”
Her power flared violently, a storm of shadow and fury. “No one defies me and lives, Michael! You’ll watch them die slowly, screaming your name, and you will beg for death long before I grant it to you!”
But Mike didn’t care. He smiled, his heart filled with hope, as he turned and rushed toward Altheack’s portal, wings flaring as he pushed his body to the limit. Time was running out. The portal to Altheack was closing fast, but he would not be stopped. Not now.
He could still feel the warmth of Altheack’s presence, so close yet so far. The portal was shrinking, the space between them vanishing, but Mike knew this was his moment. He would reach her. He had to.
As the portal began to seal, Mike’s hand shot through, grasping at the shimmering edge. For a brief, precious second, he felt her—felt the connection between them—and he knew she was waiting for him.
The portal snapped shut, but not before he had touched her. That small, fleeting contact was enough to renew his strength, to remind him that he could not stop now. He would tear Hell apart if that’s what it took to free her and Sophia.
Anna Sha, consumed by rage, unleashed a torrent of dark energy, her voice a venomous hiss as it echoed through the battlefield. "You dare defy me, Michael? You think you can save them both?" Her eyes blazed with fury as her magic surged, crashing toward him like a tidal wave of shadow and despair. "You are nothing! A fool clinging to hope in a world of death and agony. But soon, you will be mine—body and soul! I will break you, and everything you love will be consumed by the darkness!"
But Mike, filled with the power of Heaven and Hell, turned to face her one last time, his wings blazing with divine and infernal energy. Demon’s Bane pulsed in his hands, the blade alight with purple flames.
“I will save them both,” Mike growled, his voice a deadly promise. “And I’ll fucking kill you.”
With a roar that reverberated through the infernal depths, shaking the very foundations of Hell itself, Mike surged toward Anna Sha. His wings flared wide, his sword, Demon’s Bane, blazed with divine and demonic energy, each strike a storm of fury. The clash of their weapons echoed like thunder across the cursed landscape, shaking the realm as their final battle began.
Mike's movements were relentless, his strikes fueled by an unwavering resolve. Every swing of his blade was more than just power—it was a testament to his love for Altheack and Sophia. The sheer force of his will drove him forward, his sword carving through the dark air like a beacon of hope. With each clash, sparks of golden light and shadow erupted, lighting up the battlefield.
Anna Sha fought back with all her might, her power immense, her magic ancient. But Mike had surpassed anything he had been before. He wasn’t just a vessel for divine or demonic power—he was the culmination of both, a force beyond either realm. A warrior forged in the fires of Hell, tempered by the strength of his love and guided by Sophia’s magic.
Their blades locked again, the clash sending shockwaves through the air. But this time, Mike pushed harder, his strength surging beyond anything he had known. With a powerful swing of Demon’s Bane, his blade cut through the darkness, aiming for Anna Sha’s hand.
The tip of his sword grazed her fingers, and in a flash, three of them were severed, black blood spraying from the wound. Anna Sha howled, her voice a mixture of fury and agony, the air around her distorting as her power lashed out in response. But Mike didn’t stop. He swung again, this time cutting deep into her side. Her glamor, the carefully crafted illusion of a seductive and beautiful woman, began to falter.
Another swing—this one caught her across the face. The sharp edge of Demon’s Bane sliced through her cheek, the skin peeling away to reveal something far more grotesque beneath. Pieces of her face fell like shattered porcelain, revealing a nightmare—twisted flesh, jagged bone, and empty sockets where eyes should have been. Her true form, a horror beyond comprehension, slowly emerged from the mask she had hidden behind for so long.
The sight was monstrous. Her once-perfect features crumbled, replaced by a hideous visage that defied reason. Tendrils of darkness writhed beneath her skin, her mouth a maw of jagged teeth, her eyes—now exposed—glowed with an unholy fire, hollow and endless, like the abyss itself.
Mike didn’t flinch. He had seen horrors before, had fought monsters in every realm. This was no different. If anything, seeing her true face only fueled his determination.
“This ends now,” Mike growled, his voice steady, calm, carrying the weight of absolute certainty.
Anna Sha’s face twisted in rage, her true form fully revealed as the last vestiges of her disguise fell away. She lunged at him, but Mike was ready. He parried her strike with ease, the sheer force of his will overpowering her. The ground beneath them trembled under the weight of their power, the air crackling with energy.
But Mike was relentless. With each swing of Demon’s Bane, he chipped away at her defenses, carving through her ancient magic, her once-impenetrable strength faltering. His blade struck again and again, cutting through her dark essence, her form unraveling before his eyes.
The battle had escalated into something far beyond anything Mike had ever faced before—far beyond even the Pillar of the North or a hundred like him. This was a clash between gods and demons, a storm of light and darkness, a battle that would decide the fate of Hell itself.
And Mike knew, with every fiber of his being, that he would win.