Nicolas stumbles to the wall's edge, bracing himself on a fractured section where the steel has peeled like paper. Heat from the crater washes over him in waves, dry enough to scorch the inside of his throat. His eyes lock on the center, on the two figures straining against each other, their auras tearing the battlefield open like a storm cutting down a forest.
"When we contacted Mr. Johns…" Nicolas breathes, voice ragged. "To try and set up that meeting with Mike and King Maymun… he said Mike was pursuing other divine beings to grow his power."
The wind whips his hair back. The sky glows from the spiraling clash of essence.
"How did he grow this strong?"
The others don't answer.
Because there is no answer.
The colliding essence churn around Mike and Abbadon like a miniature sun collapsing into itself. The air screams from the pressure. The earth and soil around the crater rise and swirl into molten spirals.
Lisa presses a hand over her mouth. "He's not the same man we knew."
"No…" Cyra whispers, eyes locked on the storm. "He's something else now."
Pete grips the creaking stone. "And Abbadon's appears to be enjoying this."
Leo mutters, "They both are."
The council watches as the swirling core of black fire and red lightning explodes outward in a wave that vaporizes hundreds more demons foolish enough to inch closer.
On a nearby hill…Mephistopheles stands alone on a rise of scorched, glassy obsidian. His crimson coat flutters like a banner in the chaos. The brim of his top hat tilts slightly from the blast, and he absentmindedly pats it back into place.
He watches the swirling clash of Mike and Abbadon locked together like two colliding stars.
He grits his teeth for a brief moment. Just a flicker of irritation.
A demon commander sprints up behind him, rattling with panic. "M-My lord! What do we do now?!"
Mephistopheles slowly turns his head and stares directly into the commander's eyes.
"…Now?" He pauses. "Get in there and stop them."
The demon commander blinks. "L-Lord… are you sure—"
"Go on," Mephistopheles says sweetly. "Off you go."
The commander gulps once, then sprints toward the swirling vortex of essence where Mike and Abbadon are locked in combat. The moment he takes three steps into the gravitational storm—
BOOM!
Mike's tail wreathed in black fire lashes out like a guillotine. It hits the demon commander mid-stride.
He detonates into a burst of black blood, bone shards, and scattered entrails, splattering across the ground like a dropped watermelon.
Mephistopheles doubles over, laughing so hard his top hat almost topples.
"OH that was beautiful!" He wipes a tear.
He straightens up, exhales deeply, composing himself.
"Whew… that was a good one."
With an elegant shrug, he adjusts his hat, flicks two fingers, and conjures his large obsidian chair with gilded edges. He flops down into it, crossing one leg over the other.
"Well then," he murmurs, hands folded. "Let the performance begin."
Back in the crater Mike and Abbadon shove against each other, their locked arms cracking with energy. The earth beneath them liquefies, then re-solidifies in jagged spikes. The sky above them splits into streaks of inverted lightning, black bolts that descend rather than rise.
Mike snarls through a grin that is almost feral.
"Come on… COME ON!"
Abbadon's eyes flare with intensity, his voice a resonance that vibrates the air across the entire battlefield.
"Show me more… DRAGON!"
They break apart.
Then collide again, fists meeting fists, shockwaves splitting the very air.
Each impact creates ripples that slam into the battlefield, tossing demons and angels alike into the sky like ragdolls. Some curl into balls of twisted metal and flesh before they hit the ground. Others disintegrate mid-air.
A legion of angels swoops downward in formation, spears glowing. Their commander shouts:
"TARGET BOTH ENTITIES! DO NOT ALLOW THEM TO RESHAPE THE REALM—"
Mike's wing clips the air.
A crescent wave of compressed flame pushed by his wind control slices the sky.
The entire angelic formation pops like water balloons, bodies reduced to drifting feathers and white ash.
Mike hears a voice scream "YES! MORE! SHOW ME MORE!" as the ash from the angels rained from the sky.
On the opposite side, demon siege beasts bellow and charge in, dragging rusted chains.
Abbadon shifts one wing.
The beasts implode inward with a wet crunch, collapsing into blobs of black sludge.
It doesn't slow either combatant for even a moment.
Mike darts to the side in a burst of black flames, twisting midair and slamming a knee into Abbadon's face. The blow sends Abbadon hurtling backward through the ground like a meteor. Dirt and molten rock explode into geysers around the impact.
Mike cackles, full, wild laughter echoing like a demon reveling in carnage.
"YES! YES! DON'T SLOW DOWN NOW!"
He dives after Abbadon.
Even the council recoils from the sheer manic delight in Mike's voice.
Jennifer whispers, "He's… enjoying this too much."
Leo mutters, "He's fighting a harbinger of destruction and he's laughing."
Lisa swallows. "He's lost in the power… drowned in it."
Cyra shakes her head slowly. "No. He's found something he can't let go of. Enimies who can fight him at full strength."
Mike slams Abbadon into the crater floor. The impact sends shards of rock and molten earth flying like shrapnel. Mike roars, lifting him up by the throat and hurling him into the sky.
Abbadon stabilizes midair, wings folding open.
But he does not attack.
He stares.
Almost studying Mike.
The amused flame in his eyes dims for a split second.
Mike floats upward, chest heaving with exhilaration.
"What's wrong?! DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE GETTING TIRED ALREADY!"
Abbadon's head tilts slightly.
"You enjoy this."
Mike bares his teeth in a feral grin.
"More than anything."
For the first time since leaving the pit Abbadon hesitates.
It lasts only half a second.
But it's enough.
Mike flashes upward in a burst of black flame, slamming a blazing fist across Abbadon's jaw. The Destroyer is sent spiraling through the air, wings flaring to stabilize.
Mike roars after him:
"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!"
Silence follows.
Real silence.
Even the angels and demons falter, their chaotic battle freezing momentarily as both sides stare upward.
Abbadon's lips curl.
Slowly.
A thin, widening smile.
Then he laughs.
A deep, ancient, rumbling laugh that shakes the marrow of every creature within miles.
Mike hears the voice laugh along with Abbadon.
Mephistopheles sits up in his chair.
"Oho… now THIS is interesting."
Abbadon and Mike crash into each other again, energy exploding in a spiral of black fire and red lightning that launches them through the sky. They ricochet across the battlefield, tearing up the land with every impact.
Demons try to intervene.
A platoon of spear wielding armored demons charges toward the vortex—
They never reach it.
Mike's tail sweeps across the group as they approach. Ten demons explode into dark gore.
Angels try next.
A squadron of twelve dive with radiant spears and swords. Abbadon flicks a hand and they collapse into halos of broken light and scattered feathers.
The armies begin to realize the truth:
Neither side matters anymore.
Only the two beings at the center of the storm matter.
Above the horrified onlookers scattered across the destroyed battlefield Mike tackles Abbadon midair, slamming him upward into the clouds before dropping down with a heel kick that causes a shockwave in the air. Clouds disperse as the crimson sky ripples from the impact. Abbadon retaliates with a downward punch that sends Mike slamming into the ground, creating a fresh crater.
Mike rises from the impact, laughing like a man possessed.
"DO IT AGAIN!"
Abbadon's smile widens.
"As you wish dragon."
He dives.
Mike jumps to meet him.
Their collision creates a shockwave that blasts outward, flattening everything for half a mile, angel and demon alike.
And the voice says "Yes… Dragon…"