The White Death took a slow, steady breath as the power of Entropy flowed through his body. White flames ignited around him, burning with overwhelming intensity.
The air warped as the fire spread, its heat not merely scorching matter but eroding the very fabric of reality. Space distorted. The ocean below recoiled. Even the storm-wracked sky seemed to hesitate.
He was preparing.
The presences he had sensed were drawing closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Then the ground of the Fourth Layer shattered.
The black waters exploded outward as the ocean floor cracked open like broken glass. From the rupture, a towering figure rose, his aura flooding the surroundings with oppressive force.
Beelzebub had arrived.
The Devil Paragon stood fully restored, his power surging without restraint. Every wound he had suffered during his previous battle with the White Death was gone. His body radiated monstrous vitality, and the distortion of time itself rippled faintly around him.
