Michael and Vorthak moved beyond speed itself.
They did not travel through distance anymore. Space failed to measure them. The hell grounds beneath shattered without warning, entire layers collapsing into the void as if existence itself could not keep up. Light bent, time fractured, and the plane screamed in silence.
Their swords collided once more.
The impact tore through the infinite hellscape, sending waves of distortion outward. Vorthak staggered, his stance finally breaking. His breathing was heavier now, his movements sharper, more desperate.
"I will not lose to you, Michael," Vorthak roared. "Not to a young boy."
Michael answered without anger.
He drove his foot into Vorthak's stomach.
The force sent the demon lord flying through layers of hell ground, smashing through burning continents of rock before vanishing into the void. The void trembled as Vorthak recovered instantly, rage fueling him as he raised his sword.
A massive blast erupted from him, a hell-born eruption infused with nearly sixty percent of the void's power from that plane. It expanded endlessly, swallowing everything in its path.
Michael's sword began to glow.
The light grew heavier, denser, sharper. When the blast reached him, Michael swung.
The blade cut through the attack.
A deafening rupture tore across the plane. Space twisted violently. The hell ground disintegrated, and even the void seemed to recoil, as if screaming without sound.
Michael rose higher, his cloak floating calmly behind him. Vorthak surged forward again, their swords clashing in midair. This time, Vorthak's eyes burned crimson. His maw split open unnaturally, forming a gaping mouth from which a poisonous serpent erupted, its fangs sinking into Michael's throat.
Michael did not flinch.
His body regenerated instantly.
"You cannot kill me, demon," Michael said calmly. "I am the tenth Sentinel. Ending demons is not my ambition. It is my destiny."
The words struck deeper than the blade.
Vorthak froze.
A memory surfaced. A silhouette from millions of years ago. The ninth Sentinel. The one who defeated him. For a moment, Michael's presence overlapped with that memory, yet felt heavier, sharper, more absolute.
Vorthak's voice trembled.
"He has surpassed the ninth Sentinel."
Disbelief crossed his face.
Michael reached forward, gripping Vorthak's split maw. Energy gathered in his palm, condensed and violent. He released it point blank.
The blast sent Vorthak crashing through distorted space, bending reality so severely that even irrelevance could not properly comprehend it. For a moment, he could not move.
Vorthak ignited his flame propulsion, firing concentrated bursts that stabilized the warped space around him. He rose again, wings spreading wide.
Michael moved.
He vanished and reappeared across the hell grounds, circling the plane with impossible speed. His cloak flowed freely, untouched by the destruction. Sweat ran down his face, but his breathing remained steady. He was not tired.
Vorthak ascended higher. One of his wings expanded grotesquely, reshaping itself into a massive hand formed of burning flesh and bone. The hand slammed downward toward Michael.
Michael surged upward.
His glowing heavy sword released a blade wave. It struck the giant hand, detonating into endless explosions that rippled outward, disturbing other infinite realms beyond the plane itself.
Far away, the Vastyrion Realm trembled.
In Aldervain Kingdom, panic spread. Buildings shook. The air felt heavy, unstable. King Baldrick immediately ordered evacuations. Soldiers guided civilians into massive bunkers prepared for disasters beyond comprehension.
Fred stood with his sister Bella. Fear filled her eyes, but she followed his command and joined the evacuation. Fred remained behind, standing atop the tower beside King Baldrick.
Baldrick's eyes were closed.
Through his vision potion, he saw everything.
He saw Michael.
And he smiled.
"Do not worry," Baldrick told his generals. "There is no enemy here."
They did not understand, but they obeyed.
High above, on the shattered plane, Michael formed a massive soul arm, its presence dwarfing continents. From it, a relentless barrage of laser beams rained down, tearing through the hell grounds.
Vorthak responded by opening his sword.
The blade split apart, forming a grotesque mouth that expelled a colossal black worm. Its presence was suffocating, its stench unbearable, its existence repulsive.
Michael did not hesitate.
"The result of the world is not absolute," he thought. "Even if I reach higher planes, conflict will remain. Peace is never permanent."
His realization deepened.
This battle was not about victory alone. It was about choice. About what power was meant to protect.
The worm opened its mouths, releasing black waves of misfortune.
Vorthak screamed.
"This wave denies fate itself. Any being struck by it will die, erased by concepts beyond you."
Michael's soul arm intensified, beams colliding with the wave in a violent stalemate. Using the opening, Michael rushed forward, sword blazing brighter than before.
Vorthak's eyes widened.
Michael cut him in half.
The plane cracked violently. Hell grounds shattered into dust. The void screamed at last, tearing apart as Vorthak's existence collapsed.
"Have you not realized it yet," Michael said calmly, standing before him. "You will always fail. Killing and ruling through fear will never create what you desire."
Vorthak's immortality unraveled. His soul burned away.
Still, he spoke.
"Michael… you have surpassed me."
His voice weakened, stripped of rage.
"I ruled through destruction. I believed power alone shaped reality. I mocked conviction."
He looked at Michael.
"But your strength comes from belief. From resolve that does not break even when existence does."
A faint, bitter smile formed.
"I do not doubt that you will fall someday. All beings do. But not today."
"There are more demon lords. Greater threats. Crueler minds."
A pause.
"My redemption comes too late. The moment your sword reached my soul, I understood what I lost."
"Become stronger, Michael. Far stronger than this."
"I acknowledge you as my greatest opponent."
Vorthak vanished.
The plane collapsed completely. Hell ground, void, and distortion disappeared.
Michael reappeared in the Vastyrion Realm.
The trembling ceased. The sky cleared. The moon returned to its natural glow.
Michael stood silently, planting his sword into the ground. Bears approached him cautiously. He knelt and gently patted them.
Peace had returned.
For now.
Michael knew it would not last.
But he remained calm.