Chapter 181: The Genesis Spear and the Sea of the End of Times (Part 3)
The corpse of Grand Saint Li shone with a red, radioactive luminescence, expanding and deforming grotesquely, like a dying star about to collapse. The Demonic Saint King, cornered and humiliated by a pack of mortals, had made a drastic decision. Realizing that he could not subjugate these forty-five dragons without them destroying his vessel, he decided to detonate his core. His goal was to unleash a shockwave of quantum miasma that would erase the bone labyrinth and the geniuses from the face of existence, dragging them with him to hell.
Kael Morningstar stopped dead in his tracks. Every cell in his body, forged in the abyss, screamed an atavistic warning. His asymmetrical Dragon Eyes pierced through the blinding scarlet light and read the unfathomable amount of apocalyptic energy accumulating in the old man's chest. The air temperature rose, evaporating the blood puddles on the floor. A simple physical slash, no matter how destructive, would not stop a fission of that magnitude. They needed absolute annihilation.
Kael raised Magma Fang. The stellar obsidian blade roared in sympathy, and his voice, heavy with the undeniable authority of the Commander, resonated through the Soul Nexus with a coldness that nipped panic in the bud.
"Alpha Protocol! Collapse Axis!"
The remaining forty-four geniuses did not hesitate for a fraction of a second. They had rehearsed this suicidal maneuver in the darkest training sessions against Samael himself. The deafening chaos of the pitched battle transmuted, in the blink of an eye, into the choreography of a perfect war machine.
[Phase One: The Anchoring of the World]
To contain and focus the overwhelming energy of forty-five mutated cultivators, they needed a physical vessel that wouldn't turn to dust under the colossal pressure of their own laws.
Magnus, Goran, Tormund, and Borg moved at lightning speed, leaving trails in the air as they surrounded the legion, forming a millimeter-perfect outer circle. They forced their physiques beyond the biological limit. Magnus let out a guttural roar as he transformed the entirety of his skeleton into golden Liquid Vajra, reaching the density of a neutron star. Goran knelt violently, plunging his immense hands into the bone floor and transmuting kilometers of fossil calcium into unbreakable Divine Bronze. Tormund gritted his teeth and anchored his tectonic gravity directly toward the planet's core, immobilizing space. Borg, the veins in his neck bulging, planted his absurd battering ram mass as the final pillar.
"Foundations of the Eternal Mountain!" the four colossi bellowed in unison.
Their auras clashed and fused. They created a gravitational field so incomprehensibly dense that the three-dimensional space inside the circle warped downward. They had forged a "bowl" of absolute gravity, a dimensional crucible capable of containing the explosion of a sun.
[Phase Two: The Nervous System]
Within that unbreakable perimeter, Orion, the Void Puppeteer, released millions of microscopic dark silk threads from his glass fingertips. This time they weren't weapons to asphyxiate; they were sutures. The threads crossed the air and physically pierced the Dantians and meridians of his allies. The pain was horrendous, a tear in the soul itself, but no one uttered a complaint.
Cassius and Elowen immediately expanded their devouring jade and healing ironwood roots, sending them like snakes beneath the bronze to intertwine with Orion's threads. In three agonizing seconds, they built an external circulatory system: a pulsating network of emerald and silver. The sound of their heartbeats desynchronized for an instant before uniting into a single, deafening pulse. They were no longer forty-five individuals. They were a single massive organism, breathing as one.
[Phase Three: The Engine of Creation]
With the bowl stabilized, the clan's batteries ignited the spark. Lys spread her wings, forcing her Resonance with the Eternal Dawn until her own eyes poured golden light, channeling infinite light energy into the network.
Ignis let out a shriek and voluntarily immolated himself. His skin cracked and charred, turning his body into an unstable white plasma nuclear reactor, pumping a destructive heat that filled the air with the smell of scorched flesh. Voltar and Maren, eyes rolled back, injected gigawatts of tribulation electricity directly into Orion's synapses, accelerating thermodynamic transmission to the speed of light.
The interior of the circle began to shine with a painful intensity, eclipsing the Demon King's sickening radioactive light. The energy broke the Stage 2 Grand Saint barrier, shattered Stage 3 in a heartbeat, and continued rising irrationally.
[Phase Four: The Code and the Illusion]
To sustain such a monstrosity was to embrace an atomic bomb. Cedric and Iris levitated in the eye of the hurricane. Cedric's heavy runic claws and Iris's fragile crystal fingers danced in the empty air, processing trillions of equations. They were weaving millions of geometric compression matrices in real-time, rewriting the physics of space to prevent the pressure from disintegrating them. Black blood flowed from their noses and ears from the cerebral effort.
At the same time, Lyra, Darius, Ren, and Selene acted with surgical precision. They enveloped the gigantic formation in a thick veil of gray smoke, infused with cognitive miasma and zero-friction magic. Before the Demon King's perplexed yellow eyes, the immense accumulation of energy and the warriors simply disappeared into a blind spot in reality. They had created an annihilation warhead lurking in the shadows of the god's mind.
[Phase Five: The Tip of the Spear]
All the stabilized energy was violently sent toward the apex. Aion planted himself at the front. Invoking his [Black Hole Shield], he absorbed the cosmic mass of his siblings. His stellar chrome scales splintered under the infinite pressure, weeping thick tears of dark blood that fell upward. Bearing the weight of an entire clan, he let out a scream that tore his vocal cords and transferred the unstable galaxy to his twin.
Aia didn't fire it like a clumsy cannon. Using her Fluid Starlight and her dimensional refraction rapier, she crushed that star-sized energy into a single, hyper-dense shining point the size of a needle, letting it float in front of the final executioners.
Eris and Violeta extended their hands toward the tiny needle. It was a cosmic paradox: Eris injected the Flame of Ruin (the savage entropy that ages and devours), while Violeta injected Absolute Zero (the relentless stasis that freezes time). Under Iris's bloody matrices, the infinite heat and absolute cold did not cancel each other out. They coiled violently, creating a conceptual drill capable of tearing apart the fundamental laws of the universe.
Dante stepped forward from the shadows. His Asura Eyes shed red tears. He didn't draw his daggers. Instead, the Executioner opened his Slaughter System.
"Two million souls. Cut him," he whispered.
He immolated the spoils of his genocide. A suffocating tide of pure True Soul Damage poured over the core, engraving the Execution of Code Zero onto the needle, giving it the horrifying property of ignoring any defense and cutting directly into the target's karma.
Varian drew his immense bow of light, his emerald hawk bloodline shining. He forged the energy into the tip of his ethereal arrow and applied his Authority of Fixed Destiny.
Finally, Kael enveloped the projectile with the crushing Atomic Friction and the tyrannical Nirvana Intent, turning it into the supreme will of Morningstar's annihilation.
The remaining time before their bodies collapsed biologically: three seconds.
They had forged the [Collapse Axis: The Spear of Primordial Genesis].
A needle of chaotic light: black from the void, red from ruin, blue from the cold, and golden from Nirvana. It was so dense that the space around Varian curved inward, birthing a micro-black hole. Its aura pulverized Stage 4 of the Saint Realm and trembled at the omnipotent peak of a Peak Stage 5 Grand Saint.
The Demon King, a hundred meters away, froze. The primitive warning of death roared in his guts, interrupting his own radioactive detonation.
"What the hell are you!?" he roared, panic devouring his millennial arrogance.
Varian released the string.
There was no sonic boom. There was no glorious trajectory of light crossing the cavern. The sacred Authority of Fixed Destiny dictated reality. The Genesis Spear simply ceased to be on the bow and passed into existence, absolutely, buried deep in the center of the Demon King's rotting chest.
Time stood still. The Demon King looked down at the beautiful point of multicolored light protruding from his flesh.
The paradox erupted from within. Entropy and absolute zero went to war, crumbling the atoms of his body. The soul damage cut through his karmic defenses like a scythe. And the friction of Nirvana brutally burned what little remained of his physical existence. The explosion wasn't an expansive blast; it was a silent implosion. The immense corpse of Grand Saint Li was sucked into the point of light, shredded, decomposed, and erased until not a speck of cosmic dust remained in the physical world.
The vessel had been destroyed.
Or so they thought.
Right at the exact microsecond the annihilation began to erase his existence, before his soul was dragged into absolute nothingness, the Demon King made his final decision. If he was going to die, he would drag those mortals into the darkest agony in the universe. Ignoring the collapse of his body, the monster invoked a Grade 5 Law that his vessel could never withstand.
Above the disintegrating corpse's head, an immaterial Crown of the Abyss manifested.
The Demon King activated [The Sovereign Decree].
"Stop."
For the span of a sacred nanosecond, the expansion of the quantum annihilation completely paralyzed. The hearts of the forty-five warriors froze mathematically.
That nanosecond was all the demon needed to tear his own dying soul and invoke his Maximum Ultimate Skill: the [Inner World Projection: Blood Sea of the End of Times]. He wasn't expanding a Domain; he was ripping his immense pocket dimension from the depths of his being and vomiting it onto the real world.
"HAHAHAHA!" the entity laughed, spitting black blood. "You forced me to go this far! Behold the abyss and die under the weight of a Stage 9 Saint King!"
The three-dimensional reality of the cavern fractured like a colossal mirror struck by a sledgehammer. Lines of black void tore through the floor and walls. The physical dimension disappeared completely, and the gravitational shock threw the exhausted legion of dragons into the nightmare.
They fell heavily, crashing against an infinite ocean of boiling blood. It was a thick, viscous sea, of a crimson so unnatural it looked like pitch. Gigantic waves, heavy as liquid lead, crashed violently, releasing a stench of oxidized iron and death that painfully burned the geniuses' lungs.
The firmament was a mantle of matte darkness devoid of stars. At the zenith stood a dead sun: a black disk surrounded by a pale, unstable ring of white fire that gave no heat but absorbed light.
And there, floating majestuously above the center of the ocean, was the Abyssal Deity. From the depths of the blood erupted colossal, blind leviathans forged of corrupt biomass, orbiting around their creator.
The gravity of the place was multiplied a thousandfold. The forty-five youths, with their Qi reserves emptied by the Collapse Axis, fell face-first onto the solid surface of the sea. Their healed bones groaned again under the atmospheric pressure designed to turn them to dust. The divine oppression suppressed their auras; their speed and power were halved.
"Do you see the futility of your effort?" the Demon King's voice boomed in every wave. "No one will save you now!"
But the victorious words died in his throat, replaced by a gurgle of agony. Sustaining a Grade 5 Inner World was absolute biological torture for his weak vessel. In plain sight of everyone, old man Li's skin began to char, becoming porous and brittle. Embers of white fire violently sprouted from his elbows and knees, disintegrating his limbs into gray ash that flew toward the black sky.
A dull, constant heartbeat, like the strike of a gigantic judge's gavel, echoed from the bottom of the blood sea. It was the clock of the universe: he had exactly ten biological minutes left before his body collapsed completely and his soul was expelled into nothingness.
The Demon King swallowed acidic saliva. He knew he had to end this fast. His yellow, desperate sight jumped among the kneeling crowd.
"I need that space girl's body..." he thought feverishly. "Or those two brats controlling formations. And that girl with the miraculous heavenly rays... They all have absurd bloodlines. If I devour the swordsman and the spear savage, I'll be an unstoppable Sovereign."
He increased the gravitational pressure by ten percent. He would no longer play with them; it was time to crush their bones.
But then, something subtle and cosmically terrifying crossed the dimension, making the deity's ancient heart skip a beat.
In the Mini-World of the Realm of Eternal Dawn, far from the smell of ozone and blood, the atmosphere was one of unwavering serenity.
Sitting in the lotus position in the center of the Palace of Primordial Heritage, Samael Morningstar breathed in unison with the universe. Beside him, his impeccable empress, Seraphina, shared the deep meditation.
Suddenly, Samael slightly opened his eyes. In his Sea of Consciousness, the Passive Skill of his mythical bloodline vibrated with unusual ferocity: the "Legacy of Golden Blood".
Through the Bond of Loyalty embedded in every drop of his disciples' blood, Samael felt the acute, lethal danger suffocating them. He projected his vast concentration through the Soul Nexus, ignoring the barriers of the demon's Inner World. Seeing his proud dragons crushed against a sea of blood by a decrepit mummy, Samael let out a small, icy laugh.
He was not going to intervene personally by massacring the entity. This was the kids' trial by fire. But neither was he going to allow his bloodline to die from a trap.
He established the direct telepathic connection. His voice, arrogant and infinitely comforting, resonated in the forty-five exhausted minds.
"I see you're having quite a good time without me, you little bastards..."
The warriors were stunned. A shiver of massive relief, mixed with the absolute respect they had for him, ran down their spines.
"Don't strain yourselves to speak. I see that dried-up mummy is cheating a bit, playing god. So I'll be a benevolent patriarch and balance the scales. This is your final trial. Prove the destructive weight of bearing the surname Morningstar."
The Patriarch's voice turned dark and sadistic.
"Rise. Make that mummy wish he had never left his tomb. That geezer has an hourglass over his head; he won't be able to maintain this level of power for long. Devour his pride and tear him to pieces... Although, truthfully, I would have loved to break his legs myself, hehehe."
Back in the Palace, Seraphina opened her eyes, her hair falling like moonlight.
"My husband... Did something happen that made you smile so cruelly?"
Samael gave her a precise summary of the suicidal detonation and the Inner World. Seraphina felt a genuine wave of pride for the youths, but a slight frown of concern crossed her face. She knew that facing a Saint King in his own domain was uncharted territory.
Samael, reading her aura, pulled her close and placed a kiss on her lips.
"Do not worry about our little demons, my queen. I will only give them a minuscule and imperceptible technical assist. This is their war."
Samael closed his eyes and communicated with the System in his soul.
"System. I want to activate the 'Rejection of Laws' Authority of the Primordial Blood and project it remotely through the Nexus onto the bodies of my forty-five disciples. Execute it."
"Request accepted," the robotic entity buzzed. "Transmitting nullification code..."
Samael opened his eyes, his pupils turned into a well of absolute void.
"I hand you the key to break your bonds. Go, my little bloodthirsty dragons. Slit his throat."
[Active Effect of the Primordial Bloodline: "Rejection of Laws"]
It wasn't a simple defensive Qi shield; it was pure, blatant blasphemy against the order of the universe. The Primordial Blood emitted a sonic and biological frequency that literally nullified and erased the right of existence of the laws imposed by others.
In the Inner World, the forty-five geniuses felt their blood boil with an arrogant heat. It wasn't pain; it was the sensation of a thousand steel chains breaking simultaneously.
Before the deity's bulging eyes, they stood up. One by one, they rose to their full height, shaking off the viscosity of the ocean. An aura of deep violet color, crossed by crimson lightning and outlined by a silent black band of void, flickered around their bodies.
Cedric reached out his hand toward a huge wave of boiling blood. When the liquid touched the thin black line of his aura, the mass of blood collapsed, lost its magical structure, and fell meekly, evaporating harmlessly at his feet.
"Holy gods..." the architect murmured, his fractal mind calculating the impossibility. "This aura is nullifying the gravitational pressure of that mummy's dimension with ninety percent pure effectiveness."
Kael squeezed the hilt of his sword, a predatory smile appearing on his bleeding face.
The Demon King was absolutely stunned. He blinked his only functional eye. In a fit of hysteria, he increased all the gravitational power of his sea, raising tsunamis tens of meters high. And he could only watch, with a hollow terror settling in his throat, as nothing happened. When the colossal waves tried to crush them, the strange violet and black aura acted like the figurehead of an icebreaker. The boiling sea opened unnaturally, retreating like a beaten dog, flatly refusing to touch the flesh of the geniuses.
The fallen god expanded his divine sense, desperately searching for the greater entity protecting them, but he felt no one. The power emanated from within the youths' own blood.
The Demon King slowly descended, floating a few meters above the waves, clapping in a slow, sarcastic manner.
"Wow... impressive magic tricks," he mocked, trying to hide the terror. "But this whole farce ends here. I will give you the privilege of dying by my hands."
In perfect synchrony, like a symphony of war, the Titans activated their armors; the Artillery drew their bows; the Architects ignited their matrices. Forty-five weapons rose, pointing at the head of the dying deity.
Kael lowered his sword, the magma edge hissing with bloodlust.
"Stop barking and come get your grave, you decrepit old man."
The vein on the Demon King's charred temple bulged. He waited no longer. He immediately activated the [Styx River Step]. His burly body liquefied and dissolved noisily into a puddle of blood and dark mist.
"Kill the weakest ones first," the demon thought in his swift displacement. "Capture the ice girl..."
Almost breaking the very rules of space, the Demon King emerged with a sucking sound directly in front of Violeta, mere centimeters from her pale face. His enormous claws of dead obsidian extended, ready to decapitate her.
But the Morningstar legion, connected telepathically, reacted before the claw finished its arc.
Cedric and Iris did not hesitate. Cedric, activating the Fractal Consciousness Network of his mind, projected intricate geometric networks of solid light from his Matrix-Breaker Gauntlets. Iris crossed her Runic Crystal Fingers, weaving an energy polygon from her Stellar Jade Chessboard. The spherical formations exploded in the demon's face.
They knew the weak formations improvised in milliseconds wouldn't withstand the raw fury of a deity, but they would buy the single window of time required.
The Demon King didn't stop. He activated his lethal [Primordial Extinction Claw]. His arm inflated, transforming into a monstrous five-meter solid miasma claw. Where the disgusting limb tore the air, the surroundings turned black and toxic. He launched the swipe with the weight of a mountain to shred the shields and the mages.
But death arrived from the flank. Kael Morningstar ignored the colossal size of the claw and launched the [Crimson Slash: The Extinction of the Blood Lotus].
The blade of his massive magma sword didn't cut the wind; it vibrated at such an absurd incandescent frequency that matter fell apart before being touched. The majestic Nirvana Intent enveloped the blade, activating the Causality Cut.
When the sword clashed against the lethal miasmatic claw, it didn't block it; it passed right through. The demon's limb simply "disappeared" from visual existence, returned to the void.
Kael's relentless downward arc struck the King's charred chest. The world lost its color, turning ash gray, and the burning trail left a wake of withering lotuses. The opponent's body cracked like old ceramics, exhaling a crimson vapor that was devoured by the Commander's Forge Heart.
To avoid being split in two, the old fox activated the [Coagulated Blood Mirage] in the last microsecond. He abandoned a piece of his own flesh, leaving a fake shell of dead blood. The lethal slash split the shell, which exploded violently, releasing a colossal and blinding spherical cloud of deadly toxic acid and rot directly toward the vanguard's face.
An immense green and black cloud, capable of melting bones, expanded like a corrosive geyser.
But Jareth, the Priest of Poison, emerged from the shadows with a deranged smile. With his purple robes billowing, he walked directly into the center of the acid cloud. He activated his blasphemous Miasma Basilisk bloodline: [Immunity to Life]. His own biology was so incomprehensibly toxic that the demon's mystical bacteria died upon entering his bloodstream. Jareth inhaled deeply, absorbing the deadly corrosive gas into his blackened lungs in three seconds, enjoying the taste.
Immediately behind, Lys levitated closer and slammed her staff to activate the immense [Sanctuary of the Eternal Dawn: Dome of Absolute Grace]. A majestic dome of golden solid light fractals enveloped the legion, purifying any toxic residue and bathing the exhausted soldiers in a sacred light that closed their burns. Beside her, Elowen, deathly pale, handed over the last golden drops of her Universal Elixir Blood, forcing her biology to stabilize the cracked bones of the vanguard.
Everyone recovered from the superficial physical damage, but they faced a terrifying reality: due to the monstrous expenditure of the Collapse Axis, their spiritual reserves were in the red. Most retained barely fifty percent of their Qi, while the Titans hovered around forty. However, their morale was unshakeable. They knew that if they held out in a war of pure attrition, the demon's body would disintegrate under its own biological paradox.
The Demon King, infuriated and humiliated at being forced to flee with a smoke trick, reappeared several meters high above the waves. He stiffly raised his fleshless arms to the black sky and, with an animalistic shriek, invoked his massive punishment: [Lances of Corrupt Marrow].
He no longer needed the calcium of the labyrinth; he possessed the infinite sea of his own blood. The ocean beneath the legion's feet parted, and from the depths, tens of thousands of immense, sharp crimson crystal lances solidified, ready to rain down on them and inject a lethal parasite that would devour their Dantians from the inside.
With a brutal flick of his wrist, the scarlet deluge fell.
Lys burned her vitality to maintain the golden dome. Cedric and Iris pushed their runic deflection networks to the limit. The first thousands of lances disintegrated into sparks of light, but the continuous physical punishment began to generate microscopic fissures in the magical shields. They were giving way to the overwhelming Grade 5 power.
It was in that precise instant that the colossal Titans of the Vanguard took control. The walking castle of the Morningstars erected itself in all its monstrous majesty.
Magnus took the first step, his Liquid Vajra skeleton shining in metallic gold.
"[Eternal Mountain Stance: The Shield of Vajra]!" he roared. His immense Vajra-Annihilator gauntlets expanded magnetically, forging a three-meter solid light tower shield. He generated a suffocating dome of extreme gravity that crushed the blood lances into the ground before they touched the mages, sinking them by sheer atomic pressure.
Borg emerged beside him, planting his feet and crossing the thick arms of his Organic Bronze Dermis.
"[Bronze Bastion Stance: The Laughing Mountain]!" he bellowed. His dense, rusted scales absorbed the inertia of the field. He anchored himself with infinite mass, acting as an immovable breakwater that shredded the kinetic force of the crimson deluge without yielding a single millimeter.
Goran sealed the center. He buried his heavy Shield of the Northern Black Turtle into the roots of the boiling sea, activating the fearsome [Transmutation of the Armored Earth]. He connected the immense elemental power of his bloodline directly into the corrupt blood beneath them. In a microsecond, he forced the boiling waves to harden, transmuting over five hundred square meters of the viscous sea into a solid, invulnerable plaza of gleaming Divine Bronze. The falling lances clashed ridiculously against the armored runway, denting without penetrating the defensive shell.
Korg planted his iron boot. He opened the runic slots of his Gauntlets: Crucible of the Tyrant King. The pyroclastic valves screamed like hell's boilers and expelled the [Iron Steam Shield]. A thick, suffocating mist of superheated liquid iron particles at hundreds of degrees enveloped the barrier, instantly evaporating the remaining lethal lances and melting any external threat into harmless hot drops.
Finally, Draven completed the impregnable fortress. With his cold, impenetrable Blue Crystal Scales flashing, he slammed the heavy shield of The Glacier's Scale into the metal.
"[Prison of the Frozen Horizon: Guardian's Stasis]!" he intoned with a frigid voice.
A beautiful, blinding dome of Absolute Zero thermodynamic exclusion bloomed. The brutal cold froze the airflow and atomically stopped the kinetic energy of the disgusting bloody projectiles mid-flight, leaving them suspended and immobilized in frost, like pathetic insects in amber, far from the vulnerable flesh of the healers.
They had forged the ultimate wall: unbreakable flesh, absolute inertia, incandescent iron, divine bronze, and perpetual stasis. Seeing the Titans absorb the apocalypse as if it were a spring drizzle, Cedric, Iris, and Lys wisely powered down their fragile rearguard formations to conserve their precious Qi.
The Demon King, suspended in the dead sky, watched with humiliating despair as his maximum massacre effort shattered harmlessly against the armored shells. Breathing froth of red bile, he understood that the attrition bombardment was completely futile. Worse still, the dull heartbeat in his eardrums reminded him that his biological time was running out. He had less than seven miserable minutes left before the paradox shattered his vessel into a thousand blind, inert pieces.
Maddened by the darkness of the tomb, he decided to employ his final and most blasphemous killing card. He would go down, break that defensive wall, and crush their heads with his own hands.
The viscous infernal sea beneath them convulsed. The putrid blood began to swirl in furious currents, forming the colossal suffocating wall of a macabre tornado that hid the demon's figure.
Kael, with a cold, bestial smile; Eris, wielding her black halberd of annihilating fire; Dante, with his daggers of the fallen asura; and Violeta, materializing her rapier, leaped without hesitation over the wall of the Titans. They charged forward to finally decapitate the deity in a definitive destructive clash.
But their impetuous homicidal charge was painfully interrupted by a grotesque revelation.
Barely twenty meters away, the boiling clouds of the miasma cyclone opened abruptly and macabrely.
The immense, repulsive figure of the old man was no longer bare-handed. With sadistic arrogance, he wielded a blasphemous, colossal manifestation of ancient energy: the [Scepter of the Exiled King]. A High Saint-Grade Magna Weapon, a grotesque monstrosity that rivaled a dead star in density.
The weapon was not forged of shining metal. Its repulsive structure faithfully imitated the immense, rigid, bloody, and broken spine of an ancient humanoid dragon, with the jagged vertebrae protruding like dirty obsidian blades in raw flesh. It was composed of blood crystal so dark and viscous that it swallowed light. And inside its boiling interior, hundreds of tiny golden flashes swam frantically—the pitiful soul fragments of kings murdered eons ago, weeping silently and striking their red prison uselessly, serving as fuel rubble for their captor's personal apocalypse.
The Demon King took a heavy step forward, distilling acid fire, cracking the indestructible smooth bronze shield beneath his feet.
He didn't cast a complex spell. He simply raised the heavy Scepter with his rotting hand and swung it brutally. He traced a colossal horizontal arc in front of him.
The absurd, oppressive absolute pressure of the weapon shattered the spatial fabric. The pure, mundane gravitational force generated by the sweep created a solid shockwave. Without even grazing the weapon's lethal serrated edge, Kael, Eris, Dante, and Violeta were struck by the crushing distortion.
The brute force of the assassin god swept the front line like a hurricane scatters insects, smashing them violently into the air and sending them rolling, crunching dryly with pain, to brutally impact against the unbreakable bronze floor of their own rearguard, stopping their furious murderous charge dead in its tracks.
The Demon King, slowly lowering the giant Scepter into an execution stance, drew an evil sneer on his charred face that was about to crumble. His voice, wet and cruel, boomed like heavy rocks splitting at the bottom of the abyss.
"Good," the dark deity purred, looking at the young Morningstar dragons who were already rising, ignoring their pain, with sharp red pupils aiming at his impending death. "Now then, arrogant human scum... let's end this miserable, pathetic, stupid game forever."