The sky darkened.
Not with clouds. Not with smoke. Something else. Something older. The light itself seemed to dim, the sun fading behind a veil of crimson shadow. The air grew heavy, thick with pressure that pressed against the skin, the lungs, the very soul.
Aurelion rose into the sky.
His wings beat against the heavy air, carrying him higher and higher. The shards beneath his skin blazed with light, their energy surging through him like a tidal wave. He could feel it—the power, the ancient, terrible power that had once belonged to Azrathor.
The spell.
The one that had ended kingdoms. The one that had carved canyons into the earth. The one that had boiled seas into steam.
The one that had killed beings akin to gods.
He raised his hand.
Mana gathered around him—not a trickle, not a stream. A flood. It swirled around his palm, condensing, compressing, becoming something beyond mana. The air around him shimmered with heat. The ground beneath him cracked and heaved.
He had the power for it.
He could feel it—the energy, the potential, the raw, untamed force of a king. It was there, waiting, hungry.
But he didn't have the capacity.
His body was screaming, the transformation straining against its limits. He could feel himself breaking, the power too much for his form to contain. The shards beneath his skin blazed brighter, but they were fading, their energy draining.
He couldn't hold it.
He released the spell.
It was half-baked—a fraction of what it should have been. The sphere of crimson energy shot from his palm, its shape unstable, its power erratic. It streaked through the air, aimed at the Demon King below.
It struck him square in the face.
The explosion was immense—a shockwave that rippled across the battlefield, sending dust and debris flying. The ground shook. The sky blazed with crimson light. The human camps were thrown back, their tents flattened, their soldiers scattered.
Aurelion descended slowly, his wings beating, his body aching. He landed in the center of the destruction, his eyes fixed on the crater where the Demon King had stood.
The smoke cleared.
The Demon King was still standing.
His armor was cracked, his body covered in wounds. Ichor dripped from a dozen gashes. His one good eye was blazing with fury.
But he was still standing.
He looked at Aurelion, his expression unreadable.
"I recognize that spell," he said. "It was used on me of course. Once. A long time ago." He paused. "It seems less powerful than I remember."
Aurelion's jaw tightened. "I'm still learning."
The Demon King laughed—a cold, hollow sound.
"No matter." He raised his hand. "I improved on it myself. Took a while, but I perfected it."
He looked past Aurelion, at the human camps in the distance. His one eye blazed with ancient fire.
"Allow me to show you."
He activated the magic.
His voice erupted from his throat—not loud, but overwhelming. It pressed against their ears, their minds, their souls. It echoed across the battlefield, across the camps, across the entire plain.
"MY ULTIMATE MAGIC," he declared. "DOOM."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
A black hole left his hand.
It rose into the sky, small at first, barely visible. But it grew—rapidly, hungrily, impossibly. It swirled with dark energy, its edges crackling with crimson light. Red rays shot from its surface, lancing across the battlefield, carving trenches in the earth.
The human camps erupted into chaos.
Soldiers screamed. Hunters scrambled. The wounded tried to crawl away. The air was thick with panic, with fear, with the desperate certainty of death.
"What in the world—"
"Did he say Doom?"
"Is the world doomed?!"
"What is that thing?!"
"It's a black hole! A black hole!"
"We're all going to die!"
"We're all going to—"
Aurelion stared at the black hole.
It was growing. Expanding. Its pull was immense, drawing debris, dust, even light toward its center. The red rays were carving through the battlefield, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.
The Demon King stood beneath it, his one eye blazing with triumph.
"You see?" he said. "You see what I've become? You see what I've created?"
Aurelion met his gaze.
"I see a broken man trying to destroy everything."
The Demon King laughed.
"Maybe. But I'm going to succeed."
He raised his hand.
The black hole pulsed.
The human camps were in chaos.
Soldiers ran in every direction, their weapons forgotten, their training abandoned. Hunters tried to organize, to form a defense, to fight back. But it was useless. How could you fight a black hole?
Ami pushed through the crowd, her eyes fixed on the sky. The Blackstone was in her hand, its fragments orbiting in a broken ring. She could feel its power, ancient and terrible.
She could feel it responding to the black hole.
But she also felt something else.
Fear.
Not the fear of death. She had faced death before, had looked into its eyes and refused to blink. This was something deeper. Something older. The fear of insignificance. The fear of being small in the face of something vast and unstoppable.
She looked at the black hole.
It was growing, expanding, its pull dragging everything toward its center. The red rays were carving through the battlefield, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The ground was cracking, the sky was bleeding, and the world was ending.
And she couldn't do anything about it.
She raised the Blackstone, her hand trembling. The fragments surged, flowing like liquid obsidian, forming a blade. She aimed it at the black hole.
But she knew.
She was too weak. Too small. Too insignificant.
The black hole would swallow her. Swallow her blade. Swallow everything she had ever been, everything she had ever fought for.
She lowered the Blackstone.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Not her strength. Not her courage. Not her rage.
She was nothing.
She looked at the Demon King standing beneath the black hole, his one eye blazing with triumph. He was beyond her. Beyond all of them.
And then she looked at Aurelion.
He was still standing. Still fighting. Still refusing to give up.
He was the only one who stood a chance.
She had known it before. Had accepted it, even. But now, in this moment of absolute despair, she truly understood it.
Aurelion was the only one who could stop this.
She watched him, her heart pounding, her hands shaking. He was battered, broken, exhausted. His body was covered in wounds, his transformation flickering, unstable. But he was still standing.
Still fighting.
Still refusing to give up.
She wanted to help him. She wanted to fight beside him. She wanted to be strong enough to make a difference.
But she wasn't.
So she would do the only thing she could.
She would survive.
She would watch.
She would believe in him.
"Go," she whispered. "Go and end this."
Meanwhile Aurelion stared at the black hole.
His wings beat against the pull, struggling to keep him in place. The red rays lanced past him, carving trenches in the earth, sending debris flying. He could feel the gravitational force tugging at him, trying to drag him toward the center.
His eyes widened.
A black hole. An actual, honest-to-gods black hole. The Demon King had created a black hole.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
"Man, this is bullshit," he muttered.
He barely dodged a chunk of debris that was sucked past him, its mass spiraling into the void above. His wings strained against the pull, the muscles screaming in protest. The shards beneath his skin pulsed weakly, their power fading.
He looked at the black hole again.
He had seen a lot in his three thousand years. He had fought gods, demons, and things that had no name. He had conquered worlds, destroyed civilizations, and rebuilt empires from ash. He had faced the Chorus, the gate, the endless hunger of the void.
But this?
This was new.
A black hole. In the middle of a battlefield. Because the Demon King had decided to improve on an already devastating spell.
Aurelion shook his head.
"Of course," he said. "Of course he improved it. Why wouldn't he improve it? Why would anything ever be easy?"
He dodged another beam of red light, his wings propelling him sideways. The black hole pulsed, its pull intensifying. The ground below was cracking, chunks of earth rising into the sky.
Aurelion gritted his teeth.
"Alright," he said. "Alright. You want to play this game? Fine."
He raised his hand.
"I'll play."