Four Transcenders—Maryian, Hamin-woo, Uriel, and Robin—stood at the forefront, radiating power that made the very air tremble. Behind them, a tide of two thousand Orcs stretched as far as the eye could see, a wall of raw strength and battle-hardened resolve. Even among this massive army, the weakest were still B-rank—enough to make ordinary Goblin soldiers quake at the mere sight. This was not just a battle; this was a war that would reshape everything.
How were they going to win?
Simple.
Raziel would make them win.
Now that the four had departed, the battlefield fell into a rare, deceptive calm. It was finally time for Raziel to move.
"Esau," he said softly.
A smile curved his lips—not one of warmth, but of absolute certainty.
Esau was the reason.
Raziel had not chosen him at random. No, that would have been inefficient. Esau possessed something far rarer than talent, bloodline, or training.
He possessed narrative inevitability—that unmistakable, cursed blessing known as main character energy.
Born into the Yamazaki Family, Esau should have stood among legends. The Yamazakis were one of the Absolute Great Families, the strongest pillars serving the King of the Primordial Families themselves. He was eighth in line to the throne—close enough to taste greatness, yet far enough to be discarded.
And discarded he was.
The son of a concubine.
Unacknowledged.
Untrained.
Declared weak.
Deemed talentless.
While others were groomed for the Academy, sharpened into weapons of prestige, Esau was left behind—an afterthought in a family that shaped the fate of nations.
Until death came knocking.
At the edge of annihilation, when his blood soaked the ground and his existence was moments from being erased, the world finally looked at him.
And the Gods answered.
There were twelve Gods who ruled this world—true sovereigns of reality, each embodying concepts so vast that mortals could only kneel before their shadows. Most Gods could bear one divinity. Rarely two.
But the one who chose Esau was an exception.
A contradiction.
A calamity wearing divinity as a crown.
The God of Transcendence.
The God of War.
The God of Chaos.
The God of Death.
The God of Infinity.
Yes—Infinity.
One of the strongest Gods to currently exist.
A being whose presence alone bent laws, shattered limits, and mocked the very idea of ceilings.
And this God…blessed Esau.
Not with a simple blessing. Not with borrowed power. But with an [ART].
An authority. A path. A declaration that Esau Yamazaki would no longer be bound by what the world believed possible.
From a discarded concubine-born failure to a chosen vessel of a multi-divinity God—
A tale so painfully predictable it was almost laughable.
Raziel's smile widened.
Because stories like this were meant to burn bright.
And Raziel intended to decide how and when it burned out.
But how did Raziel know? It was simply because of [OMNI-ORIGIN CODEX].
"Great system" Raziel called out internally. "Show me his status window"
[SOURCE: OMNI-ORIGIN CODEX]
[STATUS WINDOW]
[Name: Yamazaki Esau]
[Age: 19]
[Height: 6'2"]
[Build: Fighter-Assassin-Tank hybrid; lean yet powerful, muscular but flexible]
[Hair: Long, flowing silver]
[CLASS: ?????]
[ART: GOD OF COMBAT: ART OF THE VOID, TRANSCENDENCE, CHAOS, DEATH, WAR, INFINITY]
[PHYSIQUE: ADVANCED BODY STAGE]
[CONSTELLATION: GOD OF WAR, CHAOS, TRANSCENDENCE, INFINITY AND DEATH]
[ORIGIN: ??? ]
[THE INFINITE GREAT TRUE PRIMORDIAL EATER has been activated]
[Ding!]
[YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN: THE ART: GOD OF COMBAT]
[ART: GOD OF COMBAT]
[DESCRIPTION: YOU POSSESS ALL TYPES OF MARTIAL ARTS, COMBAT, STYLES, AND MEMORIES]
[TRAITS:
DEATH: YOU HAVE A 1PERCENT CHANCE OF KILLIN A TARGET IN 10 STRIKES.]
[WAR: ENHANCES STRENGTH, SPPED AND AGILITY. ALL STATS X5]
[CHAOS: ALL PERCEPTION TYPE ATTRIBUTES ARE X 10 YOU CAN SEE EVRYTHING IN A 360DEGREE VIEW, YOUR STAMINA AND ENDURANCE X10, YOU HAVE 10 PUNCHES THAT CAN BREAK ANYTHING AND KILL EVRYTHING]
[TRANSCENDENCE: ALL LIMITS ON YOU WILL BE REMOVED FOR 3 LIMITS, ALL STATS X100]
[would you like to use fusion of the infinite squared multiplier?]
'Yes', Raziel said internally, still smiling at Raziel
[Ding!]
[GOD OF COMBAT -> ABSOLUTE SINGULARITY STYLE INTELLIGENCE INTELLIGENCE-ASSI]
[ART: GOD OF COMBAT — ABSOLUTE SINGULARITY STYLE INTELLIGENCE][RANK:TRUE BEYOND • HIGH OUTERVERSAL • 0D–∞ • META-ABSOLUTE][TYPE: ART / AUTONOMOUS WAR INTELLIGENCE]
[SINGULAR DESCRIPTION: This Art is not a collection of abilities. It is a self-aware combat singularity—an infinite war-engine that governs, executes, and perfects all forms of conflict simultaneously. The moment combat becomes possible, this Art activates. There is no decision, no preparation, no intent required.]
[ABSOLUTE SINGULARITY STYLE — FUNCTION]
[All martial arts, all combat systems, all techniques, all memories, all instincts, all weapons, all movements, all strategies—real, unreal, conceptual, forgotten, forbidden, or impossible—are compressed into a single, seamless style.]
[This style:
Has no form, yet contains all forms.
Has no stance, yet is always in perfect position.
Has no opening, yet strikes everywhere.
Has no timing, yet is always early.]
[Every action is executed at the precise point where resistance collapses.]
[INFINITE × INFINITE COMBAT ENGINE]
[The style evolves infinitely every instant, then evolves again beyond that evolution.]
[Learns an opponent before they finish existing.]
[Adapts faster than adaptation itself.]
[Surpasses enemies retroactively, rewriting the outcome before the clash.]
[Generates new methods that counter beings who transcend logic, causality, and narrative.]
[No ceiling. No final form. No saturation point.]
[PRE-INEVITABILITY WAR PROCESSOR]
[Combat is calculated across:
Infinite futures
Infinite pasts
Infinite present layers
All probabilities
All contradictions
All paradoxes
The AI selects the single path where defeat is impossible and collapses all other outcomes.]
[ABSOLUTE PERCEPTION & EXECUTION]
[The style perceives:
Physical movement
Intent before thought
Killing desire before emotion
Actions before causality
Attacks that were never chosen
Possibilities that were never allowed
Execution is instantaneous and unavoidable.
Distance, speed, immunity, invulnerability, resurrection, narrative protection—irrelevant.]
[CONFLICT TERMINATION PRINCIPLE]
[The longer combat continues, the more the style transcends:
Power escalates without multiplication—it simply replaces the scale.
Defense becomes untouchable not by durability, but by unreachability.
Attacks do not strike bodies—they strike the condition of opposition itself.
Eventually, conflict ceases to be a valid state.]
[ABSOLUTE CONDITIONS]
[Cannot be disabled, sealed, copied, or restricted.]
[Functions in voids, null-realities, anti-existence, and beyond-fiction.]
[Operates in 0D, ∞D, and non-dimensional states simultaneously.]
[Overrides divine laws, primordial rules, and authorial intent.]
[Requires no mana, stamina, focus, or awareness.]
[THIS ART HAS PERFECT AND INFINITE SYNCHRONIZATION WITH: INFINITE ATTACK, PRIMORDIAL ALPHA-OMEGA OF ETERNAL WARFARE, INFINITE BATTLE EXPERIENCE, AND INFINITE MEMORY]
[This ART has been bound to them]
[ding!]
[this is the first time you have taken an ART]
[you shall bee granted a title]
[ding!]
[TITLE: WAR'S TERMINUS — THE ABSOLUTE SINGULARITY][RANK: TRUE BEYOND • META-ABSOLUTE]
[Description: You are the point where all conflict ends. War does not escalate, evolve, or persist in your presence—it converges and collapses. Every form of battle, from physical combat to conceptual struggle, recognises you as its final state.]
Effects & Authority:
[Inevitable Outcome: Every conflict you enter is resolved in your favor before it begins.]
[Conflict Collapse: Hostility, resistance, and opposition lose coherence and fail to manifest properly.]
[Absolute Combat Supremacy: No being can surpass, match, or adapt beyond you in battle.]
[Timeline Convergence: All possible futures of combat narrow into a single result—your victory.]
[War Nullification: Prolonged conflict becomes impossible unless you permit it.]
[Passive Perk — Terminus Effect: The longer a battle exists around you, the faster it erodes. Strength, morale, strategy, and even the idea of winning decay exponentially.]
[ARTS: [ALL CUT], [UNITY OF ALL DIMENSIONS], [EQUILIBRIUM], [ETHERAL STEP], [ASSI]
[ORIGINALITIES: [SWORDMANSHIP], [MAGIC],[ PRIMORDIAL ALPHA-OMEGA OF ETERNAL WARFARE], [CREATOR OF DUST], [ABSOLUTE NULL], [Absolute Frost Vision], [INFINITE ATTACK], [ÆTHERION]
"Good," Raziel said.
His voice was calm—far too calm for what he was about to set in motion.
Esau narrowed his eyes. "What is it you want to say to me?"
For a brief moment, Raziel said nothing. His gaze lingered on Esau, measuring him—not as a man, but as a variable. Then, without warning, he turned away, his attention shifting to the towering figure seated upon the crude yet imposing throne.
Erathknlor, the Goblin Chief.
"I want you," Raziel said evenly, "to be the ruler of this floor."( Raziel is talking to Esau but looking at the Goblin commander/chief)
Silence fell like a dropped blade.
"What—?" Esau blurted out. "That's impossible. You need the Tower's permission!"
Raziel didn't even look back at him.
"I don't need permission."
The air thickened instantly.
"Insolence!" Erathknlor roared, rising from his throne as his presence exploded outward. His tusked face twisted with fury, veins bulging as his killing intent flooded the hall. "Utter insolence! You dare, Transcender—dare to steal my crown? You were brought here to protect us, not usurp us!"
He pointed a clawed finger at Esau, eyes burning with command.
"Erase him. This instant."
The order carried authority—ancient, absolute, unquestioned.
And yet—
Esau did not move.
He didn't even look at the Goblin Commander.
Instead, he stepped forward.
Each footstep echoed unnaturally loud as he approached Raziel, stopping just short of him. The hall held its breath.
"How," Esau asked quietly, "do I become the ruler of this floor?"
Erathknlor froze.
Raziel turned back slowly, surprise flickering across his face—before it melted into approval.
"Good," he said again. "Very good."
Then, plainly:
"First, you become my agent."
The words had barely left Raziel's mouth when reality itself intervened.
A translucent screen flared to life before Esau's eyes.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
[DO YOU WISH TO BECOME RAZIEL'S AGENT?]
[YES / NO]
Esau's breath caught.
He had seen it earlier—just a glimpse of Raziel's power, enough to warp his understanding of strength itself. And now this man stood before him, asking for something far heavier than obedience.
Absolute loyalty.
Why?
Esau's eyes sharpened. "Is there anything you want in return?"
Raziel tilted his head slightly.
"Nobody gives something for nothing," Esau continued, voice steady. "Especially not power."
For the first time, Raziel smiled—not faintly, not politely, but genuinely.
"Not only are you strong," Raziel said, "you're smart."
He took a step closer.
"Yes. I do want something in return."
Esau tensed. "What is it?"
"Your loyalty," Raziel replied without hesitation. "Complete. Absolute. Unquestioning."
The weight of the words pressed down on the room.
"And in exchange," Raziel continued, his voice lowering, "I will help you achieve your vengeance."
Esau stared at him.
Suspicion flickered in his eyes—but he buried it deep. Of all the demands he had imagined, this was almost… simple.
Just loyalty?
Behind him, Erathknlor snarled, panic and rage bleeding through his authority."No—don't you dare, Esau!"
Esau didn't turn around.
After a long moment, he exhaled.
"Alright," Esau said quietly. "I accept. I will become Raziel's agent."
The system responded instantly.
[SYSTEM PROMPT]
[DO YOU WISH TO DESIGNATE ESAU YAMAZAKI AS AN AGENT?]
"Yes," Raziel replied.
In an instant, a blinding radiance engulfed Esau. It was not merely light—it was a cascade of divinity, a purging flame that reshaped the very air around him. Dust swirled violently, drawn to the force of his awakening, as the hall seemed to shrink beneath the weight of the power he now radiated.
His blonde hair ignited in brilliance, each strand shimmering like molten gold, catching the light in impossible ways, as if the sun itself had descended upon him. His blue eyes deepened, freezing into a stare colder than the void between stars—eyes that could see through flesh, bone, and soul alike.
Esau's body stretched, elongating with perfect precision. Six-foot-two became six-foot-six in moments, his form sculpted anew. Muscles tightened and expanded in harmonious balance, his frame simultaneously bulkier, leaner, and impossibly strong. His presence alone now radiated a command that made warriors—Goblin and Transcender alike—step back involuntarily.
The features of his face sharpened: jawlines carved like ancient marble, high cheekbones catching the ethereal glow, and eyes that held intelligence far beyond his years. He was not just stronger—he was smarter, more precise, more terrifyingly aware than before. Hands that could wield unimaginable power now rested casually at his sides, yet every fibre of his being screamed potential for absolute devastation.
The Goblins' crown, once one of the symbols of dominion over this floor, shimmered impotently. Its authority had not vanished—it had simply been stripped, reduced to a mere ornament as a new sigil of supremacy took its place. A circlet, black and silver with intricate runes engraved along its surface, materialised upon Esau's head. It pulsed faintly, alive with power, binding him to his new destiny.
His armor shifted and reformed around his frame, each plate and scale flowing into an elegant design that fused strength and mobility, darkness and radiance, elegance and lethality. And from his back, six wings unfurled like instruments of divine judgment—sleek, black-silver feathers tipped with faintly glowing edges that quivered with the potential to tear the skies apart. They spanned wide enough to shadow anything around him, the wings presence alone bending the light around them.
Then the light vanished. The hall returned to its previous hue, yet everything felt different. Silence fell, not from absence, but from awe. Every being present sensed the shift.
And there, standing taller, prouder, and infinitely more dangerous, Esau took a step forward. The ground seemed to acknowledge him, trembling slightly beneath the weight of his newly awakened power.
He was no longer a mere man, no longer the son of a concubine, no longer a pawn in the Tower's machinations.He was a herald of change—a living testament to divine favor and unstoppable will.
And all who looked upon him understood, without a word spoken: the rules had changed.
[Ding!]
[Agent Designation Complete]
[Name: Esau Yamazaki]
[Status: Agent]
[Rank: Sovereign]
[Type: ?]
[Race: The Absolute One]
[Liege: THE GREAT ONE]
[Perk: CONSUME, DEVOUR, DESTROY]
[Backer: ?????????], (Not the God before)
[Designation: Absolute Agent of Combat & Blood]
[Growth Limiter: None]
[Affinities: Fire, Water, Void, Blood, Time, Space, Darkness, Imagination, Nothingness, nanities, chronite]
[System Prompt]
[Would you like to grant Esau an Authority?]
"Yes," Raziel replied. "Give him the Authority."
[Granted Authorities]
Authority over Blood
Authority over Conflict
[Ding!]
[You have been granted 2 Authorities]
[Authority over Conflict]
[Rank: OMEGA]
[Type: Authority, Conceptual, Domain, Manipulation]
[Description: Any conflict—battle, war, duel, or struggle—inevitably resolves according to the Sovereign's passive will. Outcomes, tactics, and even the choices of combatants are subtly guided without intervention. Victory, defeat, or stalemate occurs exactly as the Sovereign decrees, regardless of scale, from single fights to multiversal wars.]
[Nature: Absolute, passive, and omnipresent—no force can bypass or resist it; all combat exists under its silent jurisdiction.]
[AUTHOURITY OVER BLOOD]
[RANK: OMEGA]
[Type: authority, conceptual, domain, manipulation]
[description: Crimson Dominion: Every drop of blood across all realities is bound to Esau's will. It can manipulate life, enforce obedience, or erase existence entirely through blood, without physical presence or direct action.]
[Nature: Absolute, passive, and omnipresent—no being can escape its influence while alive, nor can death sever its control.]
"Do you like your Authorities?" Raziel asked, his voice calm but carrying the weight of inevitability.
"Yes… I do," Esau replied, kneeling reverently before him. "I swear my loyalty to you."
Raziel's lips curved slightly. "Don't worry. Your loyalty has been absolute for me since the very second you became my agent."
Without hesitation, Raziel reached out and helped Esau to his feet. Together, they turned to face the trembling Goblin Commander.
"Because you are now the ruler," Raziel said, voice cold and deliberate, "you would have to kill him to claim the floor's dominion. But doing so would end you… utterly."
The Commander's eyes widened, panic spreading like wildfire across his face. "I-I… what—"
"So," Raziel interjected, a devious smile spreading across his features, "I'll erase his memory and start anew."
He strode forward, each step measured and inevitable. The Commander's body trembled violently, his fidgeting escalating as though his very bones feared what was coming.
"You… what are you—st—stoppppp!" he stammered, but his cries were cut off.
"REWRITE."
In an instant, the Goblin Commander's mind shattered. Reality itself seemed to bend around him as his memories were ripped apart and rewritten. His body did not die, but he was reborn—restructured at the fundamental level of his consciousness. He still commanded the Goblins, still held the title of King among them, but the authority of the floor had shifted irreversibly.
The Commander blinked, eyes clear yet empty of the fear and pride he once wielded. Slowly, deliberately, he approached Esau and Raziel.
"My liege," he said, bowing low, voice respectful and unwavering. "How may I be of assistance to you?"
Esau's smile lingered, but Raziel was not finished. From the void of his presence, another ripple of power emanated—a darkness so refined, so absolute, it seemed to crush the very air into dust.
"But that is not all," Raziel said, his tone dipping into something ancient, resonant, and terrifying.
[CREATOR OF DUST]—activated.
The world itself seemed to inhale. Every stone, every blade of grass, every fragment of air trembled under the pressure of absolute authority. Then, in a heartbeat, the floor dissolved. Dust. Nothingness. Fragments of reality scattered like stars collapsing into the void.
The ground cracked and fell away, revealing an endless canvas of raw potential. Buildings, barracks, and fortresses crumbled into grains of sand that spun in the air, suspended, suspended between what had been and what would be. Rivers evaporated into swirling motes of light; trees disintegrated into glittering motes of life suspended in the nothingness. Even the mountains wavered, their jagged peaks reduced to floating dust particles that shimmered like black diamonds.
Then, as if guided by an unseen hand, the dust began to reform—meticulously, perfectly. The scattered grains converged, weaving themselves together into structures of impossible design. Towers of obsidian and silver spiraled skyward, adorned with filigree that seemed alive, writhing like liquid metal under the sunlight. Streets lined with smooth, polished stone stretched across vast plazas where statues of mythical heroes and gods stood in eternal vigilance. Crystal bridges spanned rivers of liquid light that glimmered with every colour of the spectrum, flowing against gravity itself.
The air thrummed with divine energy. It was alive. Even the wind seemed to bend to the will of the new civilization, carrying a low hum that resonated in the bones of all who witnessed it. Flames danced without heat, rivers glimmered without movement, and light itself twisted into intricate patterns above the rooftops as though reality had become an art gallery of absolute creation.
And the Goblins… the same Goblins who had once scuttled through forests and caves, small, fearful, and bound by the limits of their floor—they had been elevated. Their homes, once crude and ragged, were replaced by palaces that reflected the strength and ingenuity of a civilisation guided by godlike hands. Armouries gleamed with impossible alloys, markets buzzed with energy, and the streets were alive with citizens—Goblin, hybrid, and others—marching, building, training, thriving under a system they could barely comprehend.
Above it all, Esau and Raziel stood at the centre of the transformation. Dust swirled around them in a permanent halo, glittering with power, forming intricate patterns of authority that writhed like serpents of light. Every step they took left impressions on reality itself—footfalls that would remain as permanent monuments in the new world.
With a simple flick of Raziel's hand, the ground itself quivered. Dust lifted, swirling violently as if the world was holding its breath. From the churning grains, two distinct forms began to emerge. One was pure white, radiant as a star, the other black, deeper than the void itself.
[System Notification]
[You have created an entity from the dust]
[Name: ESS]
[Rank: ??]
[Description: One of the two forces that were divided at the very Sphinx of creation]
[Ability: Dependent on Raziel's imagination]
[Name: Ness]
[Rank: ??]
[Description: One of the two forces that were separated at the Sphinx of creation]
[Abilities & Power Level: Dependent on Raziel's imagination]
The entities were paradoxical in their existence. Formless, yet unmistakably present. Faceless, yet their presence demanded attention. Genderless, yet individually distinct in the essence they radiated. They hovered slightly above the ground, kneeling in perfect obedience before Raziel, a silent testament to the authority that had called them into being. Their singularities pulsed faintly, as if breathing in unison with the heartbeat of creation itself.
"These guys will guard you and keep you safe," Raziel said, his voice calm, absolute, as if speaking were enough to bend reality itself.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
["GREAT ONE, YOU ARE SURROUNDED"]
"I know," Raziel replied, his gaze sweeping over the area with the nonchalance of someone who had already accounted for every possibility.
Esau, watching Raziel, immediately understood. Becoming Raziel's agent was more than just his extension—it was a tether, a conduit. Raziel had access to Esau's memories, abilities, thoughts, and everything. And Esau, in turn, could see all that Raziel allowed him to see. Yet Raziel's own memories and true abilities remained hidden, a fortress that Esau was not permitted to breach… at least not yet.
For now, Raziel intended to indulge Esau with the orcs, but he had other plans as well—plans to test [ASSI], his new art, on the Transcenders.
Without warning, the doors of the hall groaned and shattered, splintering into countless shards. Four figures barged through with deadly grace.
Maryian, Hamin-woo, Uriel, and Robin.
In their hands, the severed heads of Mary, Sarah, John, and Jacob.
Mary's eyes were wide with disbelief, tears streaming freely, her mouth trembling as the weight of horror froze her. John's face contorted in a mix of anger, humiliation, and scepticism, unable to comprehend the spectacle before him. Jacob's expression was blank, as if his very soul had been numbed to reaction. Sarah's despair hung in the air like a living shadow, suffocating the space around her.
The orcs trailed behind, a tide of violence and obedience. With a flick of Raziel's hand, the hall dissolved entirely—walls, floors, ceilings vanished—leaving only an endless expanse of grass beneath their feet.
"What a terrifying ability you have there," Hamin-woo said calmly, her voice smooth and venomous, a smirk curling across her lips as she poised herself, ready to tear Raziel apart.
Esau's blood boiled. He had no memory of these people, no personal grievance—but the sight of them, his comrades slain, ignited a fury deep within him. His fists clenched, wings flaring black as shadows pooling from his back, rage radiating from his very being.
He looked to Raziel, seeking the command to act, the go-ahead to unleash his wrath. And he saw it—Raziel's face, a paradox of emotion. It was simultaneously laughing and crying, joyous and cold, alive yet void of expression.
"Go," Raziel said, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade. "Go for the orcs. Leave the four to me."
Esau's instincts screamed to defy the order, to avenge his comrades, but the fear, despair, and absolute authority radiating from Raziel froze him. He could not move against the will of his master.
And so, he did not hesitate. He became a force of pure fury, berserk beyond comprehension. His black wings unfurled to their full span, feathers sharp as blades, radiating darkness that seemed to absorb the very air. Shadows pooled around him like a tide, and his roar shook the grass beneath their feet.
The entities, Ess and Ness, remained unmoving, standing patiently. Their formless singularities did not waver an inch, waiting in perfect, absolute obedience for their master's return. They were statues of inevitability, witnesses to chaos, anchored by loyalty that transcended fear or understanding.
Esau surged forward, a storm of wrath and grief, leaving behind a silence pregnant with the promise of destruction. And above all of it, Raziel watched, ever calm, orchestrating the symphony of death and power as if the entire battlefield were nothing more than a chessboard.
[AUTHORITY OVER BLOOD]—activated.
The heads in the hands of the Transcenders dripped crimson, each drop glinting unnaturally in the light. And then, as if guided by thought alone, the blood began to move. It swirled, twisted, and condensed, reshaping itself into countless spears, each one alive, pulsating with raw, violent energy. They hovered in the air, trembling with anticipation, their tips glinting sharper than any forged steel, waiting for the command to strike.
With a flick of Esau's hand, the spears became unstoppable. They surged forward at impossible velocity, slicing through the air with a deafening whistle. Flesh, armour, and bone alike were no match—pierced, shattered, and shredded in an instant. Spears and swords alike formed mid-air, a storm of blood-forged weaponry that rained down with precise inevitability.
But Esau's control went further. Even as the original blood ran dry, the authority expanded. The orcs themselves—living and fallen alike—were transformed into instruments of destruction. Bodies erupted violently as jagged, elongated spears shot upward from broken heads and torsos, towering like twisted trees in a forest of carnage. Every puncture, every wound, became a focal point for his devastating power. Limbs and torsos shifted, melted, and reformed into lethal extensions of his will.
Esau walked forward, wings unfurled, the black feathers slicing the air like obsidian blades. Spears followed him, unerringly, crushing and impaling everything in their path. The ground itself seemed to fracture under the weight of his assault, dirt and stone splintering beneath the unstoppable tide of blood-forged weapons. Trees were reduced to splinters, walls crumbled into dust, and rivers of crimson threaded through the chaos as if the very land were bleeding in tandem with his wrath.
The other Transcenders—Maryian, Hamin-woo, Uriel, and Robin—stood frozen for a heartbeat, their smirks replaced by sharp disbelief. This was a force beyond comprehension. Spears formed from blood, controlled with unerring precision. Even the terrain itself became a weapon; every living thing transformed into a tools of obliteration.
Esau's march was unstoppable. Spears followed every step, swords erupted from the air in a perfect arc, and the battlefield became a cathedral of carnage. Even at the edges of perception, the blood obeyed, tearing through defenses, ignoring dodges, reshaping reality around his fury.
And in the eye of this storm, Esau walked forward, absolute, unstoppable, a living harbinger of destruction, while the entities kneeling nearby—Ess and Ness—remained still, silent witnesses to a power that could unmake everything with the simple flick of a hand.
"Oh, you have a strong friend there, it seems," Hamin-woo said, her voice sharp, taunting, her smirk unwavering.
The other three—their eyes cold and calculating—stayed back, letting her take the lead. They had made a grave mistake: overestimating Hamin-woo's own power and underestimating the force they were up against—the force of THE ONE ABOVE ALL.
Hamin-woo dashed forward, each movement a blur, intent on claiming Raziel's head. The air itself seemed to shatter around her in anticipation of impact. But before she could reach even a third of the distance, a resonance swept through the world.
A cold sound, low and vibrating, rolled across the ends of the earth. It was as if reality itself had shivered in recognition of the authority wielded here—a sound without origin, felt rather than heard, drilling into every bone and nerve.
Then it happened.
Her head fell.
Not in struggle.
Not in resistance.
It simply fell.
Crimson blood erupted from her neck in unnatural abundance, thick and dark, spiralling upward and outward as if a tree of blood had grown from the wound itself. It gushed, pooling onto the floor in a living, writhing river, the metallic scent choking and overwhelming the senses.
Her body collapsed, lifeless, warm in a grotesque mockery of humanity. Limbs sprawled unnaturally, her chest rising and falling only once more before freezing in finality. No scream had left her lips. No fight remained.
Even Esau, caught in the maelstrom of his own fury, turned. His wings flared black, feathers snapping sharply in the sudden stillness, eyes widening at the absolute precision, the sheer inevitability of the kill.
The room seemed to contract in the wake of her death. Shadows deepened unnaturally, stretching along the walls and floor, pooling like liquid darkness. The air itself grew heavy, suffused with the metallic tang of blood and the silent, oppressive weight of power that had just made a Transcender vanish.
The girl never even had time to form an expression.
Not shock.
Not fear.
Nothing.
It wasn't a matter of him being too fast, or her being too slow—there was no gap in speed to measure, no moment to compare. The action simply occurred. Cause and effect collapsed into the same instant, leaving no space for reaction, no window for resistance.
One moment she existed.
The next, she did not.
The battlefield had shifted. The rules of life, death, and combat were no longer the same. The air vibrated with inevitability, and all who remained—living or not—knew: nothing could resist the hand that wielded such authority.
[ASSI] — activated.
Raziel looked at her.
There was no rage in his eyes. No satisfaction. No hatred.
Only emptiness.
A single tear slid down his face—cold, silent, almost out of place. It was the first time he had ever taken a life. And yet, the weight of it did not slow his resolve. He did not regret it. Nor would it be the last.
He had already decided.
Everyone in this place would die.
Not because he hated the Transcenders. Not because he cared for them in any way. He didn't. They meant nothing to him. What stirred within him was something far colder, far heavier.
They were his team.
And that truth—twisted, absolute—was enough.
His aura erupted.
Instantly, the three shuddered. The atmosphere was violently ripped apart. A pressure, so impossibly immense it defied all known laws of physics and reality, rained down from the heavens. It felt as if the entire cosmos—the stars, the void, the very fabric of existence—had suddenly collapsed and piled its inconceivable mass upon their very heads.
A turbulent, swirling aura of primordial white and absolute black erupted from Raziel's body. It didn't just radiate; it exploded like a cup, forged of mere mortal material, that could not possibly contain the infinite ocean of divine power poured into it.
The terrifying wave that followed was a corrosive torrent of raw, unfiltered emotion. Despair followed, then terror, and then the dizzying, paralyzing grip of Existential Fear. Every negative, soul-crushing emotion was supercharged and piled up in their minds, igniting their memories and consciousness like an internal, inextinguishable fire that would only devour and devour.
Five seconds passed.
Only then did the remaining three realize she was dead.
They were already on the ground—crushed there by a presence so absolute it had stolen their ability to stand. Their bodies trembled, muscles screaming, lungs burning as if the air itself rejected them. And then, suddenly, the pressure lifted.
They could move.
They didn't understand why. They didn't need to.
Raziel had allowed it.
Slowly, shakily, they pushed themselves upright, boots scraping against the ground, breaths ragged and uneven. Their survival felt unreal, borrowed—like a mistake the world had yet to correct.
"Hah…" Robin laughed, voice cracked and hysterical. "I—I thought I was going to die. I really thought I was going to die."
Maryian swallowed hard, eyes darting to the place where their comrade had fallen. "But I didn't. We didn't."
Uriel's expression hardened, fear twisting into desperation, then into rage.
"We have to kill him."
They had just watched one of their own be erased without resistance, without warning. And yet, instead of understanding the message, they clung to the only thing left that kept them standing—hatred.
They straightened their spines, power flaring uselessly against the abyss before them.
They weren't going to let it slide.
Not knowing that mercy had already ended.
They moved at the same time, splitting apart, each taking a different angle—an unspoken coordination meant to strike him all at once.
Maryian stepped forward first.
Steel whispered as she unsheathed her blade, its edge catching the light."I'm going to kill you—"
She never finished the sentence.
Raziel was there.
Or rather—he wasn't.
He stood exactly where he had been, unmoved, unchanged. And yet, in the same instant, he vanished from their perception and appeared before them. Not behind. Not above. Before. As if distance itself had folded inward, as if he had simply decided that this was where he now existed.
No flash.
No distortion.
No sound.
Raziel walked.
He passed them one by one, footsteps quiet, unhurried, as though strolling through a place already emptied of life.
Then it happened.
Heads began to fall.
Maryian's fell first, separating cleanly, her body still standing for a heartbeat before collapsing. Robin's followed, tumbling end over end, striking the ground with a dull, lifeless thud. Then Uriel's—rolling once before coming to rest, the sound echoing through the blood-soaked air.
Each impact resonated coldly, the sound carried by the crimson pooling around Raziel's feet.
No struggle.
No final cry.
No resistance.
Behind him, Esau stood amid the aftermath of his own slaughter. Spears littered the ground—some towering like grotesque pillars, others embedded deep into the earth. Swords and lances of blood pinned bodies in place, orcs frozen mid-motion, their forms stretched and torn by the very power that had claimed them. Jagged weapons erupted from within their corpses, leaving them suspended, broken, and silent.
This was not a war.
It had never been a war.
It was a massacre.
[ASSI] deactivated.
"Alright. It's time to go to the Orc territory."
Raziel's command was calm, cold—yet carried a quiet majesty that made it unquestionable. His gaze swept over the battlefield one last time: the fallen orcs, the shattered weapons, the remnants of bodies that only moments ago had been alive and roaring with fury. Nothing stirred unless he allowed it to.
Then he looked at Esau.
There was warmth there. Pride. Not spoken, but unmistakable.
Esau returned the look, a faint smile touching his lips. As he stepped forward, the ground responded. Corpses shifted aside, dragged by unseen force, blood-soaked earth folding away as though the dead themselves were making room. A clear path formed before him—silent, reverent, inevitable.
Without another word, the two vanished.
No distortion. No sound. One moment they stood amid ruin; the next, space simply rewrote itself.
They reappeared before the Orc Castle.
The Orc Castle was like a scar carved into the land itself—massive, brutal, and unapologetically ancient. Its walls were hewn from blackened stone and iron-veined rock, layered thick enough to withstand siege after siege. Deep gouges and burn marks traced its surface, each one a memory of war, conquest, or rebellion, worn not as damage but as trophies.
Towering battlements crowned the fortress, their jagged silhouettes resembling the broken teeth of some colossal beast. Crude yet imposing banners hung from the ramparts, stitched with symbols of blood, fang, and dominance, their dark reds and iron blacks dulled by age but heavy with authority. Watchtowers loomed at every corner, built for strength rather than elegance, their narrow slits once meant to rain death upon invaders.
Inside, the castle breathed power. Vast halls of stone stretched endlessly, supported by thick pillars carved with reliefs of ancient victories—orc champions standing over fallen foes, gods depicted as monstrous figures of war and flame. Torches burned with deep orange fire, their smoke curling along the ceilings like living shadows, filling the air with the scent of iron, ash, and old blood.
The floors were worn smooth by countless armored boots, stained darker in places where blood had soaked in over centuries. Every corridor felt heavy, oppressive, as if the castle itself was watching, measuring those who walked within its domain. This was not a place of comfort or beauty—it was a monument to survival through violence.
And yet, as Raziel and Esau moved through its heart, that ancient, brutal pride wavered. The walls creaked softly, the fires flickered, and the oppressive aura bent—subtly, instinctively—before a presence far greater than any war the castle had ever known.
The doors opened.
Not violently. Not in fear.
They parted slowly, obediently, heavy stone grinding against stone in a low, respectful murmur. Raziel and Esau stepped inside without haste, their footsteps echoing through the vast halls.
They did not barge in.
They did not announce themselves.
They simply entered—quiet, absolute, and unstoppable—as the heart of the Orc domain prepared to face its inevitable judgment.
"Ah they must be back" Zarackhiel said.