Lightning rippled behind Eryndor, dancing across the fractured courtyard as he rose from the crouched landing.
Asmodeus's eyes narrowed—no, calculated—and even Seraphine's inferno-thick aura flickered with surprise.
Eryndor rotated his shoulder once, then looked toward the headmistress.
"Principal," he said casually, as if he hadn't just lightning-dived into a battle between catastrophes,
"sorry for interrupting… but if you use your full power, you know what happens."
The molten air around Seraphine stuttered.
For a moment, the Solar Witch of Ten Suns looked almost… tired.
She exhaled, her hair flickering like ribbons of plasma.
"Yes," she admitted.
"If I go all-out, this entire academy—and half this region—turns to glass."
Eryndor nodded.
"Exactly. So leave him to me."
Seraphine stared at him.
Her gaze shimmered with disbelief, annoyance… and a faint, reluctant trust.
"Knock yourself out," she finally said.
"But I don't think you can take him as you are now."
Eryndor smiled.
That silent, confident, storm-born smile.
"If I stand my ground," he said,
"let me have a leave once per month."
There was silence.
Then Seraphine snorted lightly.
"Fine. If you survive this, you get it."
The deal was made.
Asmodeus laughed.
A bright, crystalline laugh that cracked the air itself.
"I truly didn't expect you to intervene, Eryndor Nasarik," he said, stepping forward with two halos spinning behind him.
"Though I cannot kill you—"
Eryndor's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Don't try to tie me to your opinions."
Asmodeus paused.
"I assure you," Eryndor continued,
"if I don't kill you… I will deal a detrimental injury."
The laugh vanished.
Just like that.
Asmodeus's smile flattened into a cold line.
The wind stopped moving.
The air condensed.
Light bent.
And then both moved.
They vanished.
A thunderclap split the courtyard.
A shockwave carved a crater into the center.
Two blurs collided again—again—again—every strike meant to kill.
Arcane light blades cutting space.
Storm-blue fists detonating air pressure.
Ether rippling like tidal waves.
Lightning and wind swirling into dark-blue Storm energy—tinged with the mark of the Black Sun.
Seraphine hovered above them, unable to intervene without wiping out the academy.
Far below, students watched the sky crack apart from the force of two monsters clashing.
Rein Clark whispered from his battlefield,
"Bro… this is a spar?"
Kaelus sliced a wyvern clean in half.
"…That's no spar."
Darius shattered a giant's knee and muttered,
"That's a damn war."
Back above—
Asmodeus rotated and sent a spear of arcane light through the air.
Eryndor leaned aside, grabbed it, and shattered it with a twist.
Asmodeus teleported—appearing behind Eryndor with a blade of golden light.
Eryndor's body moved before thought.
Eight-Flow Fold: Reverse Current.
The blade missed by centimeters.
But Asmodeus made a single mistake.
One fatal miscalculation.
For just a fraction of a second—
he appeared too close.
Eryndor's fist moved faster than lightning.
KRAK-BOOOOOOM!!!
Dark-blue storm lightning erupted point-blank into Asmodeus's arm.
There was no scream.
There wasn't time.
The entire right arm of the Arcane Master—
disintegrated.
Not severed.
Not destroyed.
Erased.
A clean, devastating vaporization as storm-blue lightning crawled over the severed point, suppressing all regenerative properties.
Asmodeus staggered back, eyes wide.
He tried—instinctively—to regenerate.
But nothing happened.
No new flesh.
No arcane reformation.
No light reconstruction.
His voice cracked.
"A… dual mastery? Ether and Arcane?"
Eryndor stepped forward, each step sparking the ground.
Storm energy—true storm energy—swirled around him.
Lightning dark-blue, inked with the faintest undertone of the Black Sun's mark.
"Regeneration?" Eryndor asked softly.
"Bypassed."
Asmodeus gritted his teeth.
"Your storm… your lightning… this isn't normal—"
"It's enough to kill you," Eryndor cut in.
He raised his arm, gathering wind and lightning into a spiral of collapsing power.
One strike.
One end.
Seraphine's eyes widened—
He was actually about to kill him.
Asmodeus realized it too.
And teleported.
Instantly.
A burst of light swallowed him, ripping through space as he escaped to a different realm entirely.
The courtyard fell silent.
The monsters still raged in the distance.
Students screamed.
Buildings burned.
But in this moment—
For this brief breath of stillness—
Only Eryndor stood, lightning crackling lightly across his shoulders.
A faltering light appeared above, and Asmodeus's voice echoed through the sky before fading completely:
"The upper realms already know…
that the children of prophecy have awakened."
Eryndor's storm crackled darker.
Everything had changed.