The oppressive darkness of the Iron Grotto finally relented, giving way to a vast, open expanse that stretched endlessly into a void of swirling stars. At its center stood Soketh’s castle, a jagged monolith of black stone pierced with pulsating crimson veins. Its spires twisted unnaturally toward the abyss above, as if clawing at the very fabric of reality. A low, ominous hum reverberated through the air, its vibrations gnawing at the edges of their minds.
Arlan and his Strike Team halted at the edge of the chasm separating them from the castle. The sight before them was unlike anything they had encountered—a structure that seemed alive, its surface shifting and pulsing as though it drew breath.
“By the gods,” Chrysta whispered, her frost-touched hands trembling as she gripped her staff. “This… this place shouldn’t exist.”
Savage hefted his greataxe onto his shoulder, his usual bravado muted by the sheer weight of the scene. “This is where that bastard’s been hiding? Looks like a giant piece of hell itself.”
Marie’s fiery wings flared briefly, illuminating the jagged terrain around them. Her voice was tight, her bravado wavering. “It feels wrong, doesn’t it? Like it’s… watching us.”
“It is,” Akasha murmured, her crimson eyes glowing faintly as she scanned the shifting shadows around the castle. “The castle isn’t just a structure—it’s part of Soketh. A reflection of his power.”
Arlan stepped forward, Starshadow held firmly in his grip. The mithril blade pulsed faintly, absorbing the oppressive dark mana that hung in the air. His eyes, sharp and resolute, studied the castle with unflinching focus.
“Sophia,” he said softly.
Her voice echoed in his mind, calm but laced with unease. “The energy signature is overwhelming, my liege. Soketh’s presence radiates from deep within the castle—it far exceeds anything we’ve encountered before. I would estimate… at least tenth-tier red-core. Soketh has reached the first stages of becoming a God.”
Arlan’s jaw tightened, but he gave a faint nod. “Everyone, Soketh is inside and… Sophia has identified him as a tenth-tier red-core.”
The moment Arlan’s words left his mouth, a heavy silence descended over the Strike Team. The revelation hung in the air like a storm cloud, the weight of it pressing down on each of them.
Marie’s fiery wings flickered, dimming slightly as her expression turned grim. “Tenth-tier… Are we even in the same league as this guy? That’s not just powerful—it’s godlike.”
JD let out a low whistle, his twin mithril blades momentarily still. “So, what you’re saying is we’re about to go up against someone who’s basically a walking demi-god. Great. Just great.”
Savage snorted, though there was no humor in his tone. “We’ve faced monsters, armies, and those damned lesser Naraka Lords. But a tenth-tier red-core? That’s a whole other level. You’re telling me this bastard’s a god now?”
Chrysta’s frost-covered hands trembled slightly, a rare crack in her usually composed demeanor. “God-tier…” she muttered. “This is beyond anything I’ve read about. Even the heroes of old didn’t face something like this.”
Frej tightened her grip on her spear, her golden essence flickering faintly. “So, this is what we’re up against,” she said quietly, her voice filled with an uneasy resolve. “A god who has prepared his domain just for us.”
Akasha remained in the shadows, her crimson eyes narrowing. “No one has even laid eyes on a tenth-tier being,” she said, her voice low and cutting. “But we’re still going to try, aren’t we?”
Lucius adjusted his goggles, his usual analytical demeanor faltering. “It’s insane,” he admitted, shaking his head. “The gap between ninth-tier and tenth-tier alone is… incomprehensible…”
Arlan stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over his team. “We didn’t come this far to back down now,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the enormity of the challenge. “Yes, Soketh is stronger than anything we’ve faced. But together, we’ve done the impossible before—and we’ll do it again.”
Marie’s wings reignited, the fire in her eyes returning. “Damn right, we will,” she said, her voice hardening. “God or not, he bleeds. And that’s all I need to know.”
JD twirled his blades again, his grin returning though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, if we’re going out, we might as well do it with style.”
Savage slammed the haft of his greataxe into the ground, his voice a low growl. “He picked the wrong mortals to mess with.”
JD spun his twin mithril blades, his [Hurricane Regalia] sparking faintly around him. “So, we’re just gonna waltz in there and knock on the door?”
“I suppose that’s our only option,” Arlan said, his voice steady.
Frej, her golden spear glowing faintly with essence, stepped up beside Arlan. “We’re fighting a… Demi-god?!” she said, her tone grim. “What have I gotten myself into…?”
Lucius scanned the castle’s pulsating exterior. “Well the Disk of Absolution is likely inside as well.”
Arlan turned to his team, his gaze sweeping over each of them. “We don’t know what’s coming. Stay together and watch each other’s backs.”
Marie smirked, though it lacked her usual fire. “Oh, you know me—I’ve got a few surprises left.”
Savage rolled his shoulders, his towering frame radiating strength. “At least we know one thing, a glorious fight is awaiting us.”
JD spun his blades again, his grin sharp. “Lead the way, General.”
With a final glance at the ominous castle, Arlan tightened his grip on Starshadow. The Strike Team stepped forward as one, crossing the threshold into the domain of the Naraka Lord.
The jagged gates of the castle loomed ahead, creaking open as if welcoming them into its depths. A chill ran through the team as they passed beneath the archway, the oppressive air growing heavier with every step. Ahead, the faint glow of crimson light illuminated the path deeper into the castle—a path that promised no return.
“Be ready,” Arlan said, his voice low but firm.
The Strike Team moved cautiously through the castle’s towering black gates, which groaned and creaked as they swung inward as if on their own accord. The air inside was colder, heavier, and carried an unsettling hum that seemed to resonate in their cores. The grand hall stretched before them, illuminated by a dim crimson light that pulsed rhythmically like the beat of a grotesque heart.
The walls, lined with grotesque statues and warped, fleshy protrusions, appeared alive, writhing faintly as if reacting to the team’s presence. The atmosphere itself seemed to push down on them, the oppressive weight of Soketh’s power palpable even without him in view.
Marie’s voice broke the silence, tight and strained. “This place feels… wrong. Like it’s breathing.”
JD’s usual bravado faltered as he glanced at the warped architecture. “Yeah, I’m officially creeped out. Can we just burn it all down and call it a day?”
Arlan didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed ahead, scanning the crimson-lit throne at the far end of the chamber. Starshadow hummed faintly in his hand, the mithril blade glowing brighter as it absorbed the ambient dark mana.
As they approached the throne, the oppressive hum reached a crescendo. The shadows around the hall deepened, swirling like living smoke. Then, with an otherworldly resonance, a figure began to take form atop the throne—a figure they knew all too well.
Soketh.
The Naraka Lord rose slowly, his towering form emerging fully from the writhing darkness. His twisted, armor-like carapace glinted faintly in the dim light, jagged and asymmetrical, as if forged from the very essence of chaos. Tendrils of dark mana coiled around him like serpents, and his glowing red eyes burned with an unnatural intensity.
Marie’s fiery wings flared instinctively, “He’s… bigger,” she muttered. “Stronger.”
Arlan’s grip on Starshadow tightened, his face grim but composed. “Soketh.”
Soketh’s voice broke the tension, deep and resonant, carrying both amusement and menace. “Ah, Ashra,” he said, his tone rolling like thunder through the chamber. “You’ve come at last. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten our little appointment.”
The Strike Team instinctively formed a loose formation behind Arlan, their weapons ready but their eyes wary.
Soketh descended the steps of his throne, his movements deliberate and unhurried. With each step, the weight of his presence grew, pressing harder on the team.
“You don’t remember, do you?” Soketh said, his voice carrying a mocking lilt. “You’ve come so far, and yet your past remains a mystery to you. Allow me to enlighten you.”
His glowing eyes locked onto Arlan, who held his ground, unflinching.
“You and I, Ashra, are kindred spirits. Two War Gods from otherworlds, destined to clash for an eternity. Two millennia ago, we fought amidst the ruins of another age. It was a battle that shook the High Heavens and tore through the very fabric of this reality.”
Arlan’s jaw tightened, his mind racing as he processed the revelation. Fragments of memories stirred in the depths of his mind, echoing the truth of Soketh’s words. He didn’t speak, letting Soketh continue.
“You’ve spent this pitiful existence seeking peace,” Soketh sneered, spreading his arms wide. “But peace is a lie, Ashra. Battle is our truth. Conflict is what defines us.”
Marie stepped forward, her fiery aura intensifying. “You’ve killed thousands, sacrificed lives for your sick idea of a ‘truth.’ You think that justifies you?”
Soketh chuckled darkly, his gaze shifting briefly to her. “Ah, the Embercaller. Your passion is admirable, but you misunderstand. This isn’t about justification—it’s about purpose. I orchestrated this grand stage so that the Ashra would fight me as he was meant to: with desperation, ferocity, and fire in his veins.”
Arlan finally spoke, his voice steady and sharp. “You’ve slaughtered innocent people just to drag me into a fight?”
Soketh’s grin widened, his jagged teeth glinting in the crimson light. “Of course. You wouldn’t fight me otherwise—not with your full strength. You needed something to lose, something to fight for.”
The room grew colder as Soketh took another step forward, his towering form casting long shadows across the team. “Face it, Ashra. You and I are the same. We revel in battle, in the thrill of the kill, in the glory of victory. That fire burns within you, just as it does in me.”
Arlan closed his eyes, his grip on Starshadow loosening slightly as he steadied his breathing. The room was silent, the weight of Soketh’s words pressing down on everyone.
Soketh tilted his head, his voice turning almost playful. “What say you, Ashra? Do my words strike true?”
The team exchanged uneasy glances, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a blade.
I do enjoy it…
Arlan opened his eyes, his gaze piercing and resolute. “That… I cannot deny,” he said quietly, his tone carrying no hesitation.
Soketh threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing like a thunderstorm through the chamber. “Excellent! Then let us begin. But first…” He spread his arms, and the shadows in the room surged, dark fiends materializing from every corner. Behind them, ten massive figures stepped forward—hulking, armored forms brimming with dark energy. The Lesser Naraka Lords.
“We shall dance with everyone here first!” Soketh bellowed, his voice filled with savage glee. “You and I will have our own personal reverie later, Ashra!”
Arlan raised Starshadow, its light cutting through the encroaching darkness. His voice rang out, calm and commanding. “Form up! We take them down together. Stay focused—this is what we’ve trained for!”
The Strike Team readied their weapons, their resolve hardening as the horde advanced. The battle for Soketh’s throne had begun.
Marie launched forward, her fiery wings cutting through the suffocating darkness like twin blazing suns. She unleashed a torrent of flames with [Wrath of Ignis], incinerating the first wave of fiends in a fiery explosion that painted the jagged battlefield in hues of orange and red. Her laughter was fierce and defiant. “Let’s make this quick!” she yelled, spinning mid-air to hurl another stream of fire at a cluster of enemies charging from the flank.
Below, Savage’s towering frame stood as an immovable bulwark. His greataxe glinted faintly with lingering mana as he slammed it into the ground, unleashing a shockwave that shattered the earth beneath the fiends, sending them flying.
“Stay behind me if you don’t want to get crushed!” he bellowed, swinging his weapon in massive arcs that left craters in the battlefield. Every blow struck with the weight of a landslide, the ground trembling beneath his power.
JD moved like a phantom among the chaos, his twin mithril blades a blur of light and steel. His [Hurricane Regalia] left shimmering afterimages that darted through the horde, confusing the fiends as they swiped at illusions instead of the real JD.
“Come on! Keep up!” he taunted, dodging a swipe and slicing upward to sever a fiend’s arm in one fluid motion. He spun low and struck again, the sharp metallic clang of mithril carving through bone echoing through the battlefield.
Frej and Chrysta moved in tandem, their synergy flawless. Frej’s golden spear, [Aurum Piercer], thrust forward with unerring precision, shattering through the chest of a hulking fiend. Chrysta’s [Frost Nova] followed, freezing its companions in jagged ice, leaving them vulnerable to Frej’s follow-up strikes.
“Keep them contained!” Chrysta called, summoning a shimmering wall of ice to block a secondary wave from advancing. “Frej, strike the core of that big one!”
Frej responded with a nod, her golden spear glowing brilliantly as she launched herself forward, dismantling the fiend with a series of precise strikes.
Lucius held a defensive position, his artifact cannon humming with energy. He fired a barrage of [Arcane Rays], the concentrated mana piercing through the armored hide of a fiend attempting to flank. “Watch the sides!” he shouted, scanning the battlefield. “They’re trying to split our formation!”
Yuna darted into the fray, her movements a blend of agility and arcane might. Her hands and feet shimmered with magic as she activated [Spellbound Strikes], a melee spellcasting technique that infused her blows with explosive on-hit effects. Her fist connected with a fiend’s chest, sending a burst of fiery mana through its body, reducing it to ash.
“This one’s mine!” she shouted, spinning mid-air to deliver a kick infused with [Static Surge]. The electric shockwave stunned a group of advancing fiends, leaving them vulnerable to her follow-up strikes.
Another fiend lunged at her, claws slashing wildly, but Yuna dodged with precision, her footwork fluid and deliberate. She retaliated with a series of glowing punches, each one leaving cracks of shimmering essence across the fiend’s armor.
“You’ll have to do better than that!” she taunted, leaping over it and delivering a devastating mana-infused elbow strike to its back.
Akasha emerged from the chaos, her crimson eyes glowing faintly as her hands transformed into long, vampiric claws. Her ability, [Shadow Rend], wrapped her in an aura of darkness, allowing her to phase through the battlefield like a specter.
A reaper turned toward her, but before it could attack, she was already behind it, her claws sinking into its neck. She ripped it apart with an almost effortless motion, her voice cold and sharp. “Weak.”
Another reaper charged, larger and faster than the first. Akasha met it head-on, slashing through its armor in a series of swift, precise strikes. She danced through its attempts to retaliate, her movements almost hypnotic.
When it faltered, she delivered a finishing blow, her claws piercing its chest and ripping out its essence core. The fiend collapsed, its body dissolving into the abyssal air.
“You’re wasting my time,” she hissed, her voice carrying an eerie calm as she disappeared into the shadows to stalk her next prey.
From the rear of the formation, Niren stood resolute, his polished silver armor gleaming faintly even in the oppressive darkness of Soketh’s domain. His Archangel Regalia pulsed with divine energy, the six ethereal wings of light flaring behind him, casting a calming radiance over the battlefield. The silver blade of his longsword, shimmered with power as he raised it high.
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“[Aetheric Ward]!” he commanded, his voice a beacon of authority. A shimmering barrier of light surged outward, enveloping the team. The protective aura deflected incoming curses and spells. “Stay sharp, all of you!” Niren bellowed, his tone cutting through the cacophony of battle. “I can only hold this shield for so long!”
Niren’s wings beat with purpose as he charged forward, meeting a group of fiends attempting to flank Frej and Chrysta.
“[Judgment’s Light],” he declared, his voice reverberating with celestial power. His longsword radiated golden brilliance as it carved through the abyssal creatures, their twisted forms disintegrating under the holy energy. The battlefield seemed to brighten in his wake, the oppressive darkness retreating momentarily.
“Niren!” Chrysta called, her voice strained as her [Frost Wall] began to crack under a barrage of fiends’ strikes.
“I see them!” he responded sharply. His wings flared as he took to the air, positioning himself above the fray. “[Sanctified Volley]!” he roared, thrusting his sword toward the ground. Spears of radiant light rained down, impaling the fiends threatening Chrysta and Frej. The creatures writhed in agony before vanishing into smoke.
“You’re clear on that side!” Niren shouted as he descended, his wings folding briefly as he landed. “Frej, press forward with Chrysta!”
Panting but unbroken, Niren landed beside Savage, who was engaged in a brutal clash with another Naraka Lord. “Need a hand?” Niren asked, his tone calm despite the chaos.
“I’ve got this one,” Savage growled, deflecting a powerful swing. “But if you can keep their magic off me, that’d help.”
“Consider it done,” Niren replied as he raised his shield and deflected more incoming spells from nearby dark fiends.
Savage stepped forward to meet one of the towering Naraka Lords, his greataxe colliding with its jagged sword in a thunderous clash. Sparks flew, and the ground beneath them cracked under the sheer force of their strikes. Savage’s raw strength met the Naraka Lord’s ferocity in a brutal contest of power.
“Stay down, you bastard!” Savage roared, delivering a bone-shaking blow that staggered the creature.
From behind, Niren advanced, his Archangel Regalia glowing brightly. “[Divine Smite]!” he declared, thrusting his sword forward. A burst of radiant energy struck the Naraka Lord square in the chest, pushing it back.
As the Paladin’s divine attacks staggered the fiend, Savage capitalized, bringing his greataxe down in devastating arcs. Their combined assault left no openings, forcing the Naraka Lord on the defensive.
JD danced around another Naraka Lord, its twin scythes slicing through his [Hurricane Regalia] afterimages but failing to connect with the real JD. “Let’s see how fast you really are!” he taunted, his mithril blades flashing in the dim light. Each strike was a blur, carving into the fiend’s exposed flank.
Yuna joined the fray, her fists glowing with fiery essence. She struck with [Spellbound Strikes], each blow unleashing bursts of elemental energy that staggered the Naraka Lord. “Focus on its joints!” she called towards JD, her movements fluid and deliberate. A charged uppercut sent a surge of electricity through the creature, leaving it momentarily paralyzed.
“Hell yeah!” JD replied, his twin blades finding purchase in the fiend’s weakened defenses. Together, their relentless assault overwhelmed the Naraka Lord, forcing it to its knees.
Chrysta and Marie worked in tandem against a third Naraka Lord. Chrysta’s [Glacial Fortress] loomed tall, blocking the fiend’s advance as Marie rained down searing flames from above. “[Wrath of Ignis]!” Marie shouted, her fiery wings blazing as she unleashed a barrage of molten projectiles that exploded against the creature’s armor.
Chrysta focused on control, her frost magic forming jagged ice spikes that pierced the Naraka Lord’s limbs, slowing its movements. “Keep it pinned down!” she urged, summoning a massive [Frost Nova] to freeze the creature in place.
Marie dove low, her flames concentrating into a spear of fire that she hurled with precision, shattering the fiend’s frozen chest. “Nice setup!” Marie grinned, circling back for another strike.
Frej and Lucius combined precision and tactical foresight against a fourth Naraka Lord. Frej’s golden spear, [Aurum Piercer], struck true, targeting the joints of the creature’s massive arms. “It’s exposed—strike now!” she shouted, her attacks unrelenting.
Lucius, positioned at a distance, used his artifact gauntlet to fire precise [Arcane Rays] at the weakened spots Frej created. “Left knee!” he called, his voice cutting through the noise. A well-aimed blast destabilized the fiend, sending it crashing to one knee.
“Got it!” Frej lunged forward, her spear glowing brightly as she delivered a finishing blow to the creature’s exposed core.
The largest Naraka Lord loomed over the battlefield, its dark mana surging in waves that distorted the air. Arlan and Akasha advanced together, each playing to their strengths. The Naraka Lord launched a massive blast of dark mana, but Arlan raised Starshadow, its [Spell Absorption Rune] flaring as it consumed the energy.
“Redirecting,” Arlan muttered, swinging Starshadow to unleash the absorbed power back at the fiend. The redirected blast tore through its armor, leaving it vulnerable.
Akasha surged forward, her hands transformed into vampiric claws dripping with shadowy essence. “[Shadow Rend],” she hissed, her strikes ripping into the Naraka Lord’s exposed core. She moved like a wraith, darting through its counterattacks with unrelenting speed.
“I’ll crack it open,” she said coldly, her claws finding purchase and tearing through its corrupted essence.
Arlan leapt forward with Starshadow raised high. The blade glowed with the collective resolve of his team as it descended, cleaving the Naraka Lord in two.
One of the Naraka Lords channeled a massive wave of dark mana, the air around it distorting as shadowy tendrils erupted outward. The malevolent energy twisted through the battlefield, seeking to ensnare the Strike Team. The tendrils lashed toward the group with terrifying speed and force, tearing through the ground and disintegrating everything in their path.
Chrysta reacted instantly, slamming her staff into the ground and summoning [Glacial Bastion], a towering ice barrier that rose between the team and the incoming attack. The shimmering wall absorbed most of the mana wave, but cracks spread rapidly across its surface, glowing ominously as the pressure mounted.
Chrysta gritted her teeth, her legs trembling as she poured more of her mana into maintaining the barrier. Her knees buckled under the strain, and blood trickled from her nose as the last remnants of the wave dissipated against the fractured ice.
“Chrysta!” JD’s voice cut through the chaos as he darted toward her. His twin mithril blades flashed as his [Hurricane Regalia] surged to life, sending sparks of lightning flickering across his form. Without missing a beat, he intercepted the advancing Naraka Lord, whose jagged claws were already reaching for the weakened mage.
JD moved like a storm, his blades carving deep into the creature’s hide. He spun and struck again, his afterimages distracting the fiend as he pressed the assault.
“We’re not done yet!” JD yelled, his voice hoarse but determined. He ducked under a wild swipe from the Naraka Lord, slashing upward to tear through its exposed flank. The creature roared, dark mana spilling from its wounds as JD relentlessly pushed forward.
On the opposite end, Frej gritted her teeth, the pain radiating from her shoulder as sharp as the bitter memory that surged unbidden to her mind. Her breathing was ragged, but the battle around her faded momentarily as the weight of the past bore down on her.
She could see her father’s face as clearly as if he stood before her, his expression carved in cold disapproval. Lord Kaelen Aikahn, Patriarch of House Aikahn, was a towering figure in her memory, his steel-gray eyes the mirror of her own but devoid of warmth. His voice echoed in her mind, a deep baritone that carried both authority and finality.
“You would shame our house with this foolish ambition?” he had said, his tone filled with a mix of disbelief and anger. “A gryphon knight? Do you not understand what you’re asking? That title is reserved for the sons of House Aikahn. It is our legacy, passed from father to son for generations. And now you think, as a woman, you can take up that mantle?”
Frej had stood tall in the great hall of their ancestral estate, the banners of House Aikahn—emblazoned with a rearing gryphon—hanging around her like silent witnesses to her defiance.
She had just returned from her first successful campaign as a squire, her spear still nicked from combat, and the taste of victory fresh in her veins. She had earned the respect of her peers, the admiration of knights twice her age. But none of it had mattered to him.
“I’ve proven myself in battle,” she had replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. “I can fight, I can lead, I can soar. I’ve trained with the gryphons at the aviary—Windclaw already trusts me. All I ask is your blessing to take the trials.”
“Enough!” her father had thundered, his fist slamming down on the arm of his chair. “You disgrace our house by even speaking such words! Do you think this is some fairytale where determination alone will carry you? House Aikahn’s name is built on honor and tradition—tradition that you spit on with this absurdity!”
She had flinched at his anger but held her ground. “Tradition can change,” she had insisted, her voice softer but no less resolute. “I want to fight for our people, to bring glory to our name. Why does it matter that I’m a woman?”
Her father had risen from his chair then, his towering frame casting a long shadow across the hall. “Because our traditions dictate it so!” he declared, his tone low and cutting. “And it will never change. Aikahn women serve the house in other ways—through diplomacy, through alliances, through bearing heirs. You will never ride a gryphon into battle, Frej. Not while I am head of this house.”
The memory twisted like a blade in her gut. She had pleaded with him then, lowering herself to the vulnerability she despised. “Please, Father,” she had said, her voice breaking. “Let me prove myself to you.”
But his response had been colder than the stone walls around them. “You’ve proven enough, Frej. You’ve proven you have no place here. Leave this house, and take your delusions with you.”
Back on the battlefield, Frej’s fingers trembled as they gripped the shaft of her golden spear, [Aurum Piercer]. She forced herself to her feet, the echo of her father’s words fueling a fire deep within her. The Naraka Lords loomed before her, their monstrous forms like the unyielding traditions that had cast her out.
“I’ll prove myself,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with fury and pain. “I’ll prove it to you, Father. To all of them.”
One of the fiends lunged, its jagged claws tearing through the air toward her. Frej spun to the side, her movements fluid despite the pain coursing through her shoulder. Her golden spear flared with light as she channeled her essence into a precise thrust, piercing the creature’s knee joint. It roared in agony, stumbling forward, and Frej leapt back, repositioning herself.
The second Naraka Lord charged from her flank, its dark mana coalescing into a blade of pure corruption. Frej gritted her teeth, summoning every ounce of her focus. She planted the butt of her spear into the ground and activated [Thousand Needles], sending a throne of spear strikes outward. The violent attack staggered both Naraka Lords, buying her precious seconds.
“I’ll show them what I’m made of,” she growled, gripping her spear tighter. “I’ll show them I don’t need their approval.”
Her vision blurred for a moment, and she could almost see her father standing in the distance, watching her with that same cold disapproval. She shook her head, banishing the illusion. “Not this time,” she muttered, planting her feet firmly. “Not ever again.”
With a fierce battle cry, she charged forward, her spear blazing with divine light. The Naraka Lords roared in defiance, but Frej met their fury with her own, striking blow after blow, her golden aura a beacon of unyielding determination.
Frej’s spear found its mark, piercing through the darkened core of the Naraka Lord she faced. With a final, agonized roar, the hulking fiend crumbled into the abyssal mist. Frej staggered back, panting, her golden light dimming momentarily. Around her, the battlefield churned with chaos as the Strike Team fought not only the remaining Naraka Lords but the relentless horde of lesser dark fiends.
Nearby the Gryphon Knight, Lucius crouched low behind the glowing remnants of his artifact cannon, sweat trickling down his brow as he recharged the core. Around him, fiends swarmed, their distorted forms writhing with malevolent energy. “Chrysta!” he yelled, his voice sharp. “I need cover—ten seconds!”
Chrysta spun her staff, a sphere of frost forming at its tip. “[Frost Nova]!” she cried, slamming the staff into the ground. A wave of crystalline ice burst outward, freezing the charging fiends in jagged sculptures. “Ten seconds is all you get!” she snapped, her tone clipped but determined.
Lucius grinned, adjusting his goggles as he slammed his gauntleted hand into the artifact. “Good enough!” he muttered, activating [Arcane Overdrive]. A series of mana pulses surged into the cannon, which hummed with deadly energy. He aimed at the frozen fiends and unleashed a barrage of [Arcane Rays]. The frozen creatures shattered under the precise blasts, their disintegrating forms vanishing into the void.
“Nice aim,” Chrysta said, twirling her staff to block an incoming claw strike before retaliating with an ice spike.
“Nice freeze,” Lucius shot back, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Let’s keep this dance going.”
Meanwhile, Niren hovered above the battlefield, his Archangel Regalia casting a divine glow across the platform. His voice boomed with authority, “[Judgment’s Light]!” Golden spears rained down from the heavens, impaling the fiends threatening to overwhelm Savage.
The hulking warrior grunted his thanks, hefting his greataxe. “Don’t need the holy lightshow, but I’ll take it!” he barked, swinging the weapon in a wide arc. The blow cleaved through three lesser fiends, their shattered forms scattering into the void.
“Without me, you’d be neck-deep in curses,” Niren retorted, landing beside him and raising his shield to block a dark blast aimed at Savage.
Savage snorted, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Maybe. But I don’t need wings to swing harder.” He launched himself at a Naraka Lord, his greataxe smashing into the fiend’s blade in a deafening clash.
Niren sighed but followed, his longsword gleaming with divine energy as he targeted the creature’s joints. Together, their strikes synchronized—Savage’s raw power breaking through defenses and Niren’s precision exploiting the openings.
Marie darted through the chaos, her fiery wings illuminating the swirling shadows. “[Inferno Hand]!” she yelled, unleashing a blazing tornado that engulfed a wave of advancing fiends. The firelight reflected off Akasha’s vampiric claws as she emerged from the shadows, phasing through the flames to ambush a hulking fiend.
“You’re enjoying yourself,” Akasha observed coolly, her strikes swift and lethal as she tore into the fiend.
Marie grinned, her fire intensifying. “Can’t help it,” she admitted. “Nothing beats burning these things to ash.”
“Efficient, if reckless,” Akasha said, her crimson eyes flickering as she dodged a retaliatory strike. “Try not to singe me next time.”
Marie laughed, launching another fiery explosion to clear the path. “Then keep up!”
As the Strike Team pushed forward, the Naraka Lords proved relentless. Their massive forms exuded oppressive dark energy, and each strike felt like a storm bearing down on the mortals. Lucius and Chrysta struggled to maintain the tempo as waves of fiends bolstered the Lords’ attacks. Savage took a blow that sent him skidding across the battlefield, his greataxe barely catching his fall.
Niren raised his shield to deflect a devastating curse aimed at Frej. “We’re getting overwhelmed!” he shouted.
Arlan, standing at the platform's center, closed his eyes. He activated his [Monarch’s Regalia]. A pulse of golden energy surged outward from Starshadow, enveloping his allies in radiant light. Their movements grew sharper, their strikes heavier, their defenses bolstered. They were raised by a whole color to their cores.
“We can do this!” Arlan called, his voice firm. “Press forward!”
As Lucius fired another [Arcane Ray], his mind drifted momentarily to the past. He had been a child then, a spell thief scrabbling for survival in the slums of Yura. The nights had been cold, the days colder. Stealing spells from wandering sorcerers was all he had known, a dangerous game that had cost him dearly.
It wasn’t until he stumbled upon Master Thalric, a wandering artificer, that his life changed. Thalric had seen potential where others saw a vagrant. Under the artificer’s tutelage, Lucius learned to channel his cleverness into invention, his desperation into innovation.
Now, as he fired another blast of precision mana, Lucius felt a surge of gratitude. “I’m not that kid anymore,” he muttered, eyes steely. “I’m something better.”
Nearby, Niren blocked another strike, his Archangel Regalia flaring with celestial power. The pressure of his destiny weighed heavily on his mind. He remembered the first time he had failed—the day he had arrived too late to save a village from a dark fiend horde. His [Archangel Regalia] had felt like a mockery then, its divine potential useless in the face of his inexperience.
“Why give me this power if I can’t protect them?” he had whispered to the void that night, his heart breaking with guilt.
Now, as his golden blade sliced through another fiend, Niren clenched his jaw. He would not fail this time. The people depending on him, the comrades at his side—they were his purpose.
Empowered by Arlan’s [Monarch’s Regalia], the Strike Team rallied. Chrysta’s frost magic immobilized the final Naraka Lord, while Savage and Frej dealt crushing blows. Lucius and Akasha coordinated their attacks, dismantling the fiend’s defenses with precision and speed. Niren descended from above, his blade piercing through the creature’s core in a flash of divine light.
As the last Naraka Lord fell, the battlefield grew eerily silent. Soketh hovered above them, his crimson eyes gleaming. “Impressive,” he murmured, his voice dripping with mockery. “But you’ve only just begun to understand my power.”
The air in the grand hall shifted violently as Soketh's mocking words faded. The oppressive shadows that clung to the battlefield coalesced around him, wrapping his form in a dark cocoon. The walls of the chamber quaked as waves of abyssal energy radiated outward, forcing the Strike Team to brace themselves.
Marie’s wings flared, their fiery light dimmed against the overwhelming darkness. “He’s doing something—something big!”
“No kidding!” JD shouted, spinning his mithril blades as he stepped protectively in front of Chrysta. “Arlan, what’s the plan here?”
Arlan raised Starshadow, the mithril blade shimmering with the golden light of his [Monarch’s Regalia]. “Hold your ground,” he commanded. “This isn’t over.”
Soketh’s voice erupted from the shadowed cocoon, deep and resonant, reverberating through the chamber. “You think yourselves victorious because my Lords have fallen? You’ve only tasted the edge of my power. Behold the true form of the Prime Naraka Lord!”
The Prime Naraka Lord was engulfed in a torrent of dark mana and then he emerged—transformed. His form had become monstrous, his armor-like carapace now an intricate fusion of abyssal shadows and jagged crimson crystal. Massive wings unfurled behind him, their edges sharp and glinting like obsidian blades.
His hands gripped a colossal greatsword, its blade glowing with a dark purple abyssal energy that seemed to drink the light around it. His eyes burned red like twin suns of malice, fixed directly on Arlan.
Sophia’s voice echoed in Arlan’s mind. “My liege, this is Soketh’s Primal Form. He’s ascended to tenth-tier white-core in this state. His power is… immeasurable.”
Soketh’s laugh rolled through the chamber like thunder. “Ashra, do you see now? This is my domain, my reality. I have crafted this moment for you, for us. Do you feel it—the inevitability?”
Arlan stepped forward, Starshadow held firmly at his side. His team instinctively formed a loose circle around him, their expressions tense but determined.
“What inevitability?” Arlan asked, his voice cutting through the charged air.
“That we are bound,” Soketh said, his tone almost conversational despite the monstrous resonance of his voice. “You and I are two sides of the same coin. War Gods from different realms, born to clash for eternity. When one of us falls, we are reborn, drawn back to this endless dance.”
Arlan’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around Starshadow’s hilt. “Then why don’t I remember any of this? If I fought you before, if I was reborn—why can’t I remember?”
Soketh’s grin widened, revealing jagged teeth. “Because, Ashra, rebirth comes at a price. Each time you return to this plane, you leave behind your memories of all that you’ve accomplished in this world. Althea becomes a blank slate, wiped clean for your next chapter. All you carry with you are the echoes of your first life—your origin, your purpose.”
The Strike Team exchanged uneasy glances. Marie’s fiery wings dimmed as she turned to Arlan. “He’s lying, right? This is just more of his mind games.”
Soketh chuckled darkly. “Mind games? Do you think I need tricks to break you? No, this is the truth, Embercaller. Your beloved Prince, your Ashra, is doomed to this cycle as I am. Every time he falls, he rises again, but at a cost. And I remain here, waiting, always waiting for the next clash.”
Arlan’s chest burned with a mixture of anger and confusion. He stepped closer, narrowing the distance between himself and Soketh. “You’re saying that all of this—my people, my victories, my failures—none of it stays with me?”
“Exactly,” Soketh hissed, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Each time you begin anew, you are a blank canvas, an artist painting the same futile masterpiece. And here I stand, your eternal rival, the only constant in your endless cycle.”
Arlan’s grip on Starshadow tightened as his heart pounded. “What the hell is this!? Why am I bound to this fate?!”
Soketh tilted his head, feigning surprise. “Ashra… ‘They’ have given you purpose. Without them, you are nothing but a wandering shadow, clinging to a life you can never keep.”
“Who is this ‘they’ you speak of?!” Arlan spat, his voice low and venomous.
Soketh’s laugh echoed again, this time louder, darker. He raised the colossal abyssal greatsword, its purple energy sparking with raw, chaotic power. “In time, Ashra. It changes nothing. Our time has come.”
He pointed the greatsword directly at Arlan, the abyssal energy radiating outward in waves that distorted the air. “Let us see who shall stand at the end of our glorious battle. Or will you falter?”
Arlan raised Starshadow, its golden glow meeting the abyssal light with defiance. “If this is our fate, then I’ll break it.”
The Strike Team assumed their positions, their eyes locked on the monstrous figure of Soketh. Around them, the battlefield trembled, cracks forming in the platform as Soketh’s power warped the very fabric of the abyss.
Arlan took a step forward, his voice resolute. “We fight together. We end this—here and now.”