"Ignis Tempestas Elevatio!" At last, his words, laced with power, unleash a hurricane of raging winds wrapped in blazing flames. Fire erupts around the entity, spewing ash and infernal embers, while the exorcist hovers suspended in the air.
The heat consumes the oxygen, making his skin tingle. The sheer intensity of that power incinerates matter at a rate that could instantly kill any human caught in it.
Unluckily for him, the red dragon is his target. It feels the flames as nothing more than a breeze, reminding it of Mala Domus once again.
Without hesitation, Azaael stomps with full force, shattering the ground beneath his feet. The impact causes tremors and vibrations in the air, scattering the winds and flames just long enough for him to escape the center of the storm.
Time for the counterattack.
With a mighty leap, he creates an even deeper crater and breaks through the wall of fire, emerging from the embers with only superficial burns and a few wind-inflicted cuts. The sound follows late, lagging behind his astonishing speed.
In that instant, he moves like light. His feet are shredded by the force of his motion, leaving behind a trail of boiling blood that vaporizes in the heat. As he closes the distance, he aims a devastating knee strike, one that could rupture the air itself. The exorcist blocks it in a split second—barely—his hands trembling under the force of the blow.
"You're a goddamn nightmare to fight!" he mutters, feeling the crushing weight of the attack in his bones, locking eyes with the demon. "But that just makes it more fun..." With that, he pushes the demon's knee down and gains enough lift to glide for a moment longer, as the entity flashes a savage grin in return.
"Getting all fired up, are you?" he replies, complicit in the feeling, while the storm behind them fades, leaving only destruction in its wake.
That place is slowly being erased from reality.
A deep sigh escapes the entity, and as his feet descend toward the ground, he halts midair—sustained by black wings that unfold from his back like flames.
Adapting this hybrid body is... complicated.
The summoned dragon slithers up his body, wrapping around his arm in a serpentine spiral.
Especially after absorbing the essence of Azadraek, a third being!
Meanwhile, Masaru, caught in a storm of thoughts and outcomes, feels his mind working unlike any other. Or maybe this is how it always works now. He's not sure. He only knows the variables are endless.
But time, unlike possibilities, is not on his side.
"Rugitus Draconis Daemoniaci, Potentia Totalis!" the demon bellows, cursed words accompanying the opening jaws of his dragon.
Black energy surges around him, feeding into the summon. It forms a concentrated sphere that launches with a single shot, aimed directly at the boy, ripping through space with such violence that the air compresses, causing a chain of explosions—each one like a bomb—erupting from the demon's location to where the attack lands.
Masaru feels the crushing pressure of the dark magic closing in—three... two... one meter! Boom!
The echo rolls out, shaking all of Neo Tokyo. In that moment, darkness devours the night sky. The fabric of reality begins to crack. It's a spectacle of destruction expanding outward, an accumulation of black energy so dense that even the oxygen vanishes from the atmosphere.
That power resembles the void itself—a black hole devouring everything nearby.
The devastating strike tears through tens of thousands of meters of wreckage. Even the demon is flung backward by the sheer force, nearly reaching the outskirts of the district—his body hurled by the overwhelming shockwave.
Clouds above the city are torn apart, reshaped and dispersed by the blast, revealing a clear sky. A violent wind erupts—furious gusts reaching up to ten thousand kilometers per hour, stripping the demon's clothing like paper and scattering it into the chaotic air. Blood sprays from his wounds, carried off by the storm.
Gabriel, even from afar, is forced to shield himself. His car disintegrates under the blast, and half the highway leading to the district collapses.
Even his finely crafted spiritual barrier shatters like glass under the pressure of the wind.
What the hell kind of power is this?
The entity turns to him and stares; his eyes shut for a moment, then he descends, his feet regenerating instantly.
A wave of urgency shoots through his body. Despite the wounds inflicted by the brutal winds, he raises his hand—fingers crossed—his resolve blazing.
With that last spell, more exorcists should arrive in a few minutes. I just need to hold him off... But damn it, Masaru, are you dead? You, of all people!? This wasn't how it was supposed to go...
He takes position, concern deepening across his face.
"Not your turn yet!" he yells, his back to the rising curtain of black, toxic dust. A beam of light narrowly misses him, grazing his head and tearing off his ear in an instant, streaking through the battlefield without pause. "This kid really is what he claims to be..." he mutters, turning to see what's emerging.
His eyes lock on...
Masaru—still alive despite missing an arm—feels the fingertips of his right hand burning after releasing the spell. He appears through the fading black mist. After a harsh impact and the chaotic symphony of battle, he lands hard, tearing the ground apart underfoot. He's completely naked, body covered in fresh wounds and deep cuts, burns scorched across his skin from the demon's dark onslaught.
"You bastard! You made me sacrifice my arm, damn you!" he yells, blood gushing from his lips as he supports himself on the ground.
After casting his light spell with the right arm, the exhaustion hits. The adrenaline begins to fade. His eyes glow crimson, reflecting the sheer scale of the blast, while the abyssal black of his burned flesh spreads. Only one arm remains—everything from the forearm down is gone.
"I'm gonna exorcise you with the next hit!" he growls.
The demon is stunned. This battle has escalated beyond all reason—half his face is disfigured, burns cover his body, and his left ear is gone.
And still, the exorcist stares him down—just as destroyed, yet unbroken.
A third of my black energy... wasted on that strike! He may be a powerful exorcist, but he's still just an awakened human...
A bitter lie gnaws at the edge of his mind.
Not even angels have survived my dragon. So what makes this boy so special?
"It all ends with the next move!" he declares, blood pouring down his face as he slams a fist into his chest.
A growing hunger mixes with his rage.
Damn it! When did I start feeling this craving—this hunger? Is it mine... or is it the boy's?
His voice tears through the battlefield as Masaru rises again, pushing off the ground with his one remaining hand, fingers crossing instantly. His aura continues to surge, dancing madly around him, while Azaael makes the tattoos on his body writhe, peeling off skin that is devoured by the ever-growing aura.
"What a demon of faith!" Masaru mocks, a crooked grin forming on his face, still not surrendering to despair.
Which ego will prevail?