The battlefield fell into a hushed anticipation, the angels' murmurs a faint whisper against the palpable tension that hung in the air like a suffocating fog.

Each flutter of wings seemed to echo with the weight of impending doom, their hearts heavy with the knowledge of the horrors that had been unleashed upon them.

Zenith's eyes, however, told a different story; they were slits of focus, piercing through the aftermath with a warrior's acumen, searching for any sign of the unseen threat that lurked within the shadows.

"Sir?" The question from one of the angels was laced with uncertainty, the fear in their voice a reflection of the dread that gripped them all.

But their hesitation was swiftly silenced by Zenith's commanding presence, his gaze unwavering as he surveyed the battlefield with a steely resolve.

"Everyone retreat," he ordered, his voice the calm before the storm, a clear signal of an unseen threat that lurked just beyond the edge of their perception.

The urgency in his tone was a warning, a harbinger of the danger that loomed ever closer with each passing moment.

But it was too late.

As if summoned by the very fear in their hearts, blood spears erupted from the ground with a savage ferocity, a forest of crimson death that skewered the angels in their flight.

Their screams echoed through the air, a symphony of agony that pierced the silence with a chilling finality, their bodies falling like broken dolls amidst the carnage that surrounded them.

Then, a roar shattered the silence, a primal declaration of defiance that echoed through the very fabric of existence.

Asura emerged from the dissipating smoke, his shout reverberating across the heavens like thunder rolling in from a distant storm, each word a testament to his unyielding determination.

"This is not enough to stop me!!"

He stood amidst the wreckage, a vision of wrath incarnate, his body a tapestry of wounds that bore witness to the ferocity of the battle.

Blood streaked his skin like war paint, a grim reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of his relentless pursuit of power.

Yet despite the pain, despite the odds stacked against him, his stance remained unyielding, his gaze a blaze of defiance that dared anyone to challenge his authority.

The chains that bound him rattled with his fury, the sound of metal against will a symphony of defiance that filled the air with its cacophonous resonance.

With each breath, each heartbeat, he could feel the strength of his resolve coursing through his veins like molten fire, fueling his determination to break free from the shackles that bound him.

With a snarl of pure determination, Asura flexed his muscles, the chains straining against the force of his will.

And then, with a sound like the world tearing at its seams, the chains shattered, fragments falling away like raindrops as Asura soared into the sky, a freed beast ascending on wings of vengeance.

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A crimson tide surged within Asura, a maelstrom of power that threatened to engulf all in its wake.

It churned within him like a tempest, a torrent of raw energy that pulsed with an ominous glow, casting sinister shadows across the battlefield.

He stood poised at the precipice of destruction, his form a silhouette against the backdrop of chaos, his eyes blazing with an intensity that mirrored the inferno within.

In that moment, he was not just a man, but a force of nature incarnate, a harbinger of annihilation whose very presence sent shivers down the spine of all who beheld him.

With a grim determination etched upon his features, Asura prepared to unleash the dreaded fourth technique—[Asura's Descent]—a cataclysm incarnate that would rend the very fabric of reality asunder.

Zenith, with the resolve of the ages burning bright within him, conjured a barrage of spells in a desperate attempt to halt the oncoming storm.

Each incantation was a plea to the fabric of reality itself, a prayer whispered on the wind in the hopes of stemming the tide of destruction that threatened to engulf them all.

But Asura, with a will as indomitable as the ancient mountains, channeled every fiber of his being into a singular, earth-shattering descent.

The air crackled with anticipation, the very atmosphere thrumming with the weight of impending doom as he unleashed the full force of his power upon the unsuspecting earth.

The very ground beneath their feet screamed in protest, fissures racing across its face like the web of a malevolent spider as it buckled under the weight of Asura's wrath.

The world trembled, a prelude to the impending cataclysm, as if the very heartbeat of the planet had faltered in the face of such overwhelming power.

And then, in the deafening silence that followed, came the sound—a single, ominous 'thud' that reverberated through the air like a death knell, a somber bell tolling for the end of all that was.

In an instant, the surroundings succumbed to ruin, a once-vibrant tapestry reduced to dust and despair beneath the relentless onslaught of Asura's descent.

At the epicenter of destruction, Asura stood, a dark deity amidst the carnage.

His form was a silhouette against the backdrop of devastation, a figure of malevolent power that loomed over the shattered remnants of the world he had torn asunder.

A grin, as chilling as the void itself, played upon his lips - a silent testament to the chaos he had wrought, a cruel mockery of the suffering he had inflicted upon the unsuspecting earth.

And finally, with a gesture of finality, he executed his last move - the 5th technique, [Wrath's Tempest]

He extended both his hands, and as if answering his command, the blood that had nearly submerged everything in its crimson tide began to swirl, forming a vast tempest of swirling darkness that engulfed the landscape in its malevolent embrace.

The whirlpool of blood grew ever larger, its hunger insatiable as it devoured everything in its path with an unforgiving ferocity.

Trees, buildings, even the very earth itself was consumed by the voracious maw of the tempest, disappearing into its depths without a trace.

Asura watched with satisfaction as the world around him was consumed by the tempest he had unleashed.

But even as he reveled in his victory, he could feel the toll it was taking on his mortal vessel.

Such power was too much for Ethan's fragile body to bear.

Asura's vessel, the mortal coil that housed his boundless fury, began its sacrifice.

His legs, once pillars of strength, now dissipated into crimson particles, a grim harbinger of his own unraveling.

Piece by piece, his form succumbed to the very power he wielded, a poignant reminder of the thin line between dominion and destruction.

Yet, amidst the cacophony of alarms and the relentless countdown, a smile graced Asura's face - a smile of victory, of a mission fulfilled.

It was a smile that spoke of triumph in the face of adversity, of the inevitable march of fate, and of the undeniable power unleashed upon the world.

[Error! Error!]

The words blared, a digital dirge foretelling the end.

The Abyss, that insatiable void, grew ever more ravenous, its hunger uncontained.

[Portion of Abyss is increasing]

[Overriding Guardian's authority]

The system's voice, cold and impersonal, announced the usurpation of Zenith's dominion, the guardian's hold now slipping like sand through fingers.

[Resuming disintegration sequence]

[15...14....13...12...]

The countdown resumed, each digit a hammer strike against the anvil of fate, forging a future of annihilation.

[5....4...3....2...1!]

[Starting the disintegration sequence]

A hush fell, a breathless, suffocating silence as the world began its final descent into oblivion.

The very essence of reality started to unravel, a tapestry coming undone.

People, buildings, the living and the non-living—all were reduced to mere shadows before succumbing to the inexorable pull of disintegration.

A world once vibrant and teeming with life now crumbled to dust, a silent testament to the power of the Abyss and the tragedy of Asura's triumph.

Zenith beheld the unfolding end with an unwavering calm, his expression was still unchanged as if he had witnessed this many times.

"Let's go," he commanded, his voice a gentle yet unyielding force that cut through the chaos.

With a turn of his hand, he signaled the departure.

He, along with the celestial host of angels, took to the skies, their forms slicing through the turmoil as they soared away from the dying world.

Their flight was a silent vigil, a somber procession through the stars.

After traversing the void for a time, Zenith's voice broke the silence, addressing one of the winged messengers at his side.

"Did you get any update on Greed?" he inquired, his tone carrying the weight of urgency.

"No sir. We are still trying to find his location," the angel replied, the flutter of wings punctuating each word with solemnity.

"Try to find him quickly," Zenith urged, his directive echoing the gravity of their quest.

"Okay sir," the angel responded, acquiescence in his voice, a testament to their shared resolve.

Together, they journeyed across the cosmic sea, a constellation of hope against the dark tapestry of space.

Their destination: a portal, a gateway to realms unknown, their passage marked by the light of countless stars.