Black poison seeped into Samuel's veins, spreading like wildfire, its corruption gnawing at his very essence. His Titan Halo flickered, its light dimming as the venom took hold.
For a fraction of a second, silence.
Then—
"RAAAAAGH!"
A golden aura detonated from Samuel's body, an explosion of pure divine wrath. The force of it sent the dark figure hurling backward, their form nearly dissipating from the backlash.
Samuel vanished from the spot, reappearing a lightyear away in the blink of an eye. His hand clutched at the wound in his chest, golden ichor dripping between his fingers.
His smile returned—but it was no longer the smirk of a victor.
It was the smile of a beast cornered.
His voice, when he spoke, was calm.
But beneath that calm was a tempest—a fury so deep it made the void itself tremble.
"Razen."
The name hung in the air like a death sentence.
Samuel's eyes, once filled with the wisdom of eons, now burned with something far more dangerous.
Betrayal.
"I didn't think even you would join this snake."
The dark figure—Razen—straightened, their form solidifying once more. A chuckle, low and mocking, escaped their lips.
"War makes allies of even the most unlikely, Samuel."
Novick, still lying broken on the ground, laughed, the sound wet with blood.
"You were always too arrogant, Samuel. Too sure of your own invincibility."
Samuel's grip tightened.
The golden aura around him intensified, his wounds sealing—but the poison still lingered, a slow, insidious rot.
He exhaled, long and slow.
Then—
"Then let's see how invincible I truly am."
A piercing cry of a phoenix shattered the silence, its haunting echo reverberating across the void like a clarion call of rebirth. Golden flames erupted from Samuel's body, scorching away the last remnants of the black poison that had seeped into his veins. The venom—crafted through centuries of dark alchemy, designed to cripple even gods—dissipated into smoke, curling away from his skin like a defeated serpent.
Novick's eyes widened. His teeth ground together so hard they threatened to crack.
"Impossible..." he hissed.
Razen, ever composed, slowly ran his tongue over his teeth, his smirk fading into something darker. More calculating.
Then—
The air behind Samuel split open.
Seven manifestations materialized in a blinding burst of light, each one a towering avatar of primordial power:
A Dragon, its scales gleaming like molten gold, wings spread wide enough to blot out stars.
A Titan, its mountainous fists clenched, the very air trembling under its weight.
A Phoenix, wreathed in eternal flames, its cry shaking the fabric of reality.
A Nine-Tailed Fox, its eyes gleaming with ancient mischief, tails swaying like a storm of silver.
A Devil, horns curling from its brow, a grin of pure malice splitting its shadowed face.
An Angel, six wings of blinding light unfurled, a sword of judgment clutched in its grasp.
A Cosmic Elephant, its trunk raised in a silent trumpet, the weight of entire worlds resting upon its back.
Novick gasped, his breath stolen by the sheer magnitude of power before him.
Razen's playful demeanor vanished. His fingers twitched, his body coiling like a viper ready to strike.
Behind Novick, reality rippled. A thousand-handed human figure emerged, each palm etched with divine sigils, each finger capable of crushing mountains. The air around him bent, as if the world itself was forced to lend him strength—power that was never his to wield. The void groaned in protest, cracks spreading through the emptiness like shattering glass.
Razen, meanwhile, became formless. A vortex of absolute nothingness swirled behind him, devouring light, sound, even thought itself. The universe seemed to harmonize around him, as if he were the axis upon which existence turned.
But Samuel?
He was beyond them all.
His runic armor shattered, falling away like brittle glass. His silver robes tore apart, revealing a body sculpted by divinity itself—every muscle etched with the perfection of a celestial forge, his skin glowing with an inner radiance.
Then—
Black flames ignited in his left palm.
The fire spread, crawling up his arm, across his chest, until his entire form was encased in an armor of living darkness. The obsidian plates pulsed with an eerie light, their edges wreathed in flickering embers.
His presence was suffocating.
Novick's knees buckled. Razen took an involuntary step back.
The very air rejected his existence, as if the universe could not contain the sheer magnitude of his power.
Samuel exhaled.
The void shuddered.
His voice, when he spoke, was soft.
But it carried the weight of a thousand dying stars.
"Shall we finish this?"
Novick roared, his borrowed power flaring like a dying sun.
Razen smiled, his vortex spinning faster, hungrier.
And Samuel—
Moved.
The battle that followed would be remembered—not in legends, not in myths, but in the silent screams of the cosmos itself.
The void screamed as Samuel launched forward, his movement so devastating it left reality itself in tatters—space fracturing behind him like broken glass, the fabric of existence weeping luminous tears in his wake.
Novick and Razen moved as one.
Novick's twin swords materialized in a flash of prismatic fury, each blade humming with the raw essence of creation—swirling storms of fire, ice, lightning, and shadow coiling around the steel like serpents. Razen ascended, arms outstretched, as the dying light of distant stars was ripped from the cosmos and funneled into their palms, condensing into a singularity of obliteration.
Samuel was a tempest incarnate.
Each punch he threw shattered against Novick's swords, each clash birthing supernovae of force that scorched the void. Razen's star-forged projectiles rained down, and Samuel erased them with contemptuous swipes—but the onslaught was endless.
Then—
Razen struck.
Nine dying stars blinked into existence around Samuel, their colossal forms locking him in a cage of celestial inevitability. The gravity alone would have crushed a lesser being to paste. The heat should have vaporized him.
Yet Samuel...
Grinned.
It was not the smirk of a warrior, nor the cold amusement of a strategist.
It was the madness of something far older.
His armor dissolved, the runic plates unraveling into threads of raw existence—and where they touched the stars, reality itself dissolved. The stellar prison warped, its light dimming as if drained by an unseen maw.
Then—
Darkness.
Absolute. Suffocating.
Samuel's vision blackened—not from unconsciousness, but from something far more profound.
When sight returned, he stood in a realm beyond realms.
Before him, three pairs of eyes gazed down—each set vast as galaxies, brimming with the weight of epochs. They regarded him first with indifference...
Then surprise.
Samuel turned.
To his left, a pitch-black orb pulsed hungrily, whispering of endings.
Before him, a blood-red divine orb thrummed with the heartbeat of a forgotten god.
To his right, a flickering, half-formed orb sputtered weakly, its light dying.
And Samuel understood.
His grin—once manic—softened into something almost peaceful.
Without hesitation, he plunged his hand into his own chest.
Flesh tore. Ribs splintered.
And with a final, shuddering breath, he ripped out his own heart—a still-beating mass of golden ichor and celestial fire—and hurled it into the abyss.
The hole in reality screamed as it swallowed his sacrifice.
Back on the shattered platform, Samuel's bloodied form reconstituted—but he was no longer whole.
White flames erupted from his skin, consuming him from within. His body dissolved into motes of light, each ember carrying a fragment of his will.
Novick and Razen lunged forward—too late.
Samuel's voice was a whisper, yet it echoed across infinity:
"Wait... for my revenge."
Then—
He was gone.
The void fell silent.
The war was not over.
It had only just begun.
****
The soft, wet sounds of fervent kisses filled the opulent silence of the study, a private symphony against the backdrop of crackling fireplace embers.
Celastine, perched on Aelion's lap, her silk dress pooled around her, was a vision of desperate affection.
Her fingers were tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer as if she could fuse their very beings together through the meeting of their lips.
Aelion's hands, strong and calloused from a life now past, slid from the small of her back down to the generous curve of her ass.
With a firm, possessive grip, he pulled her forward, grinding her body against his own, a silent, physical promise that momentarily made her forget the world outside this room.
Celastine gasped as she finally broke the kiss, a thin strand of saliva briefly connecting them before she pulled away.
Her chest heaved, her lips were swollen and glistening, and her pupils were blown wide with a dark, consuming fire.
She looked down at Aelion, her gaze not just one of love, but of pure, unadulterated obsession.
"Now," she breathed, her voice husky and intimate, "My confidence and your energy have both been completely recharged."
Aelion offered her a faint, almost imperceptible smile, a ghost of the rakish grins he was once known for. He didn't speak. Instead, he simply showed her his hand, holding it steady in the air between them—a silent request she knew all too well.
____
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