The battlefield outside the Holy City had long since lost its shape.

  What was once rolling plains and shattered siege lines was now a scarred wasteland of molten earth and blackened craters. At its center stood two figures, separated by a wide distance, yet bound together by an invisible tension so dense it bent the air itself.

  Draculius and Israfel.

  They did not rush toward each other.

  Instead, they unleashed their power from afar—

  Fire colliding with darkness, light crashing into shadow.

  A colossal wave of flame surged forward, devouring everything in its path. Draculius answered with a roaring torrent of abyssal energy, a black storm that swallowed the fire and exploded outward.

  BOOOOM!

  The impact ripped through the battlefield, creating a shockwave so violent it hurled broken weapons, shattered shields, and entire bodies through the air like weightless debris.

  Even the Holy City walls trembled from afar.

  Inside the city, people staggered. Stone cracked. Windows burst.

  The very ground groaned as if the world itself was screaming.

  Israfel laughed, flames dancing wildly around his body as he hurled another blazing arc.

  “You’re holding up well, old man!” he shouted, voice echoing over the inferno.

  Draculius countered with a sweeping wave of shadow, erasing the fire mid-air.

  “You’re not bad yourself!” he barked back.

  They continued like this—

  Firestorm.

  Dark barrage.

  Explosion after explosion.

  Neither gained ground.

  Neither retreated.

  For a long moments, it was a stalemate of annihilation.

  Then—

  they both came to halt.

  The battlefield fell eerily silent, smoke and ash drifting slowly through the air.

  Israfel lowered his burning fists, a broad grin stretching across his face.

  “You’re stronger than I expected, Old man” he admitted while snickering “And I’m glad you are.”

  Draculius snorted.

  “I told you to stop calling me old man. By age, you’re way far older than me.”

  Israfel waved it off.

  “I was worried you’d be a weakling. But you proved otherwise.”

  His smile widened.

  “I had my eyes on you ever since Lumiel mentioned about you... being an Immortal among the others.”

  “With you… I can finally go all out without holding back.”

  He clenched both fists.

  And suddenly—

  The flames vanished.

  Not extinguished.

  Withdrawn.

  The world went silent.

  No wind.

  No dust.

  No sound.

  It was as if reality itself was holding its breath.

  Then—an invisible pressure erupted outward.

  Not an explosion.

  A blazing presence.

  Mana flooded the battlefield, spreading like an endless tide.

  It expanded—past the field of fallen armies, over the broken siege lines, all the way to the Holy City.

  Zero, Vesta, and Arame felt it instantly.

  Their knees buckled.

  Sweat poured from their skin.

  The heat was unbearable—like standing beneath a burning sun, yet there was no sun in the sky.

  Coalition soldiers collapsed, gasping.

  Even Vatican troops who had surrendered fell to their knees, clutching their chests as if an unseen mountain pressed down on them.

  Some screamed.

  Others passed out.

  “This… what is this hot and dense mana!?…it felt like it burning just from breathing” Vesta whispered in horror.

  “It’s him,” Zero muttered. “That Archangel… is finally going all out.”

  Arame clenched his fists.

  “So this is an Archangel’s true power…”

  Eslene and Lucien felt it too.

  They froze mid-run, both turning toward the distant battlefield.

  Heat rolled over them in waves.

  Eslene swallowed.

  “What… is this?”

  Lucien’s expression darkened.

  “That came from where Lilith and Camilia were heading.”

  He grabbed her hand.

  “We can’t waste time. If we slow down now, it’ll be too late!”

  “We need to trust the others to handle whatever it is”

  Eslene still worried but nodded in agreement.

  “Alright, then we need to move faster”

  They sprinted harder to their destination, ignoring the heat and whatever may be obstructing them.

  Above the city walls, Lilith and Camilia came to a sudden stop mid-air.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  From afar, they could see it—

  Two figures standing at the center of the storm of power.

  The closer they flew, the heavier and hotter the pressure became.

  Camilia raised her arm, crimson aura flaring to shield herself.

  “Ugh! What is this heat?!” she hissed. “And that heavy density of mana—!”

  Lilith grimaced, blocking with her own energy.

  “It’s denser than the one we faced…in fact it the densest we had ever felt.”

  “Will Father be alright?” Camilia asked in worry.

  And Lilith replied "Our Father is one of the strongest being to ever exist, let put our trust in him...we will act only when it get dire"

  "Until then...we shall not be a burden to him"

  They remained floating above the city wall and spectate from afar to observe the changes of this battle.

  Even for Ancient Ones, it was overwhelming.

  Back on the battlefield, Draculius stood unmoved.

  Not a single step back even when he was the closest.

  Israfel’s grin grew wider as he sensed it.

  “Hahaha! Great! This is so great! It feel so good to finally meet a worthy opponent!”

  Draculius narrowed his eyes.

  “Looks like I’ll have to respond in kind. You’ve shown me respect by not holding back.”

  It had been a thousand years.

  A thousand years since Draculius had gone all out.

  Since his last rampage—

  When he tore apart a coven of Royal Ones and bathed the heavens in shadow.

  Since then, no one had ever force him to unleash everything.

  Until now.

  His mana surged.

  But unlike Israfel’s blazing heat, Draculius’ presence was—

  Cold.

  Bottomless.

  Endless.

  Darkness poured from him like an abyss opening its maw.

  Two forces clashed—

  Sun and void.

  Flame and Darkness.

  Israfel trembled with excitement.

  This was it.

  The first time since their era—

  An Archangel facing an Immortal on equal ground.

  The last time had been against a Shadowborn.

  And it ended in humiliation. A one-sided defeat.

  A wound that never healed.

  This time…

  I will not lose. I will prove that we are still the superior one!

  Israfel roared, power surging.

  For his fallen home.

  For his lost family.

  For every angel that fell.

  His flames erupted—

  Not outward but inward.

  They compressed and condensed.

  As the temperature skyrocketed beyond comprehension. The ground beneath him melted instantly, turning into bubbling magma.

  Draculius’ shadow barriers began to burn.

  Not dispel.

  but Burn.

  Israfel laughed.

  “Beware! My flame doesn’t just burn matter like usual fire!” he shouted.

  “It can burns even mana itself!”

  Draculius’ eyes widened slightly.

  His abyssal energy hissed as golden fire ate through it, slowly but steadily.

  Even darkness was not immune.

  Not instantly.

  But over time—

  It would be consumed.

  A disadvantage in a prolonged fight.

  Israfel pressed forward, flames roaring like a living beast.

  “Your shadows will vanish eventually!” he declared.

  “No matter how vast, they will all burn away!”

  Draculius remained calm.

  Unshaken.

  “So be it,” he said. “Then I’ll just have to end this before that happens.”

  Their powers clashed again.

  Flame devouring darkness.

  Darkness swallowing fire.

  The battlefield was torn apart.

  Cracks spread across the earth like spiderwebs.

  Shockwaves reached the city walls again.

  But still—

  Neither fell.

  Stalemate.

  Israfel panted, grin unwavering.

  Draculius’ cloak fluttered violently.

  A war of endurance.

  And Israfel believed—

  Time was on his side.

  But Draculius smiled faintly.

  Burning mana…it troublesome...but it still not comparable than Kevlar violet flame...

  guess i would had to use that after all.

  He wasn’t worried.

  Because he still had something—

  A trump card.

  One he hadn’t revealed in centuries.

  The battle was far from over.

  Draculius slowly closed his eyes.

  For a brief moment, it looked as if he was surrendering to the pressure—his darkness still burning, still withering under Israfel’s true flame. Black wisps peeled away from his form, disintegrating into glowing embers as if his power was finally reaching its limit.

  Israfel watched closely.

  He’s pooling mana, the Archangel thought. Trying to compensate for the loss… trying to even the scales.

  A grin spread across his face.

  “You are wasting your time, old man!” Israfel shouted. “You will burn through your mana long before you outlast my flame!”

  He raised his blazing arm, flames spiraling violently.

  “Immortal you may be! But my Origin Fire still holds the advantage!”

  But then—

  The burning stopped.

  Draculius’ darkness, which moments ago had been consumed, suddenly stabilized. The blackened edges ceased crumbling. Instead, they thickened. Regenerated.

  Like flesh knitting back together.

  Israfel’s grin faltered.

  Draculius opened his eyes.

  “Then,” he said calmly, “I would just need to devour it… all of it.”

  His shadow erupted.

  From behind his shadow.

  A monstrous claw burst forth—formed entirely of abyssal darkness. It expanded at a terrifying speed, growing larger and larger, until it swallowed the sky above them.

  Day turned to night.

  The battlefield drowned in shadow.

  Israfel’s eyes widened.

  For the first time—He leaped back.

  The claw slammed down where he had been standing, crashing into his flames. The impact shook the earth, sending shockwaves rippling across the wasteland.

  As Israfel retreated, the suffocating heat suddenly dropped.

  Cool air rushed back in.

  He stared at the ground.

  And notice his flame—

  The one that could burn even mana—

  Was being wrapped by darkness.

  Coiled.

  Swallowed.

  Dragged into the abyss and erased from sight.

  Israfel laughed again, forcing his confidence back into place.

  “Impressive!” he exclaimed. “Even while my flame burns away your darkness, you still managed to form such a massive offensive spell!”

  He clapped his hands once, mockingly.

  “Hahaha! And it took all that effort just for you to try and extinguish my fire!”

  He made it sound as if Draculius had barely achieved anything.

  As if he hadn’t even struck yet.

  But Draculius replied calmly—

  “Extinguish?”

  A faint smile touched his lips.

  “I believe you are mistaken.”

  Israfel narrowed his eyes.

  “Then how do you explain what you just did?”

  Draculius slowly raised his palm.

  A flame ignited in his hand.

  Golden and pure.

  Israfel froze.

  He felt it immediately.

  That flame—

  It was his.

  The same origin fire he had summoned and used moments ago.

  There was no mistaking it.

  As the bearer of the Origin of Fire, he could sense every flame in existence.

  And this one—

  Belonged to him.

  “I merely devoured it,” Draculius said, “and made it mine to control.”

  For the first time in a very long while—

  Israfel felt unease.

  But he hid it with bravado.

  “So what if you devour it?” he scoffed. “You think using my flame can defeat me?”

  He slammed his foot into the ground.

  “Don’t forget—I possess the Origin of Fire! All flames bow before me! They are mine to command!”

  Draculius extinguished the flame in his palm effortlessly.

  Unbothered.

  “Hmm,” he murmured. “Then what if I devour all of it…”

  He lifted his gaze and pointed at him.

  “…including that origin of yours?”

  Israfel laughed loudly.

  “HAH! With your meager darkness? No power can contain an Origin! Unless you possess another—”

  His words cut off.

  His eyes widened.

  A realization struck him like lightning.

  No…

  This can’t be…

  What are the odds…?

  But—

  It made sense.

  That was why his darkness could devour the origin fire.

  And also why his darkness started regenerating and become stronger.

  Israfel’s voice lowered.

  “I now see where your confidence comes from, Immortal…”

  His expression darkened.

  “So you happen to possess the same power domain as mine…”

  He whispered—

  “An Origin…The Origin of Darkness.”

  Draculius did not deny it.

  “You should know the law of this world,” he replied. “Only an Origin can stand against another Origin.”

  “Everything else… is merely a copy.”

  Israfel clenched his fists.

  “You hid it really well, old man. You had me tricked.”

  Draculius sighed softly.

  “I was never fond of using it,” he admitted. “It has brought nothing but demise.”

  His eyes hardened.

  “But that does not stop me from using it against those who threaten to harm others.”

  Israfel’s playful demeanor vanished completely.

  His flames condensed, forming armor around his body—

  Brilliant, radiant, terrifying.

  A sword of compressed fire and mana appeared in his grasp, radiating unbearable heat.

  Draculius in respond let darkness pour out from him, engulfing his surroundings like a living abyss.

  It devoured the light it touches regardless on the land or above the sky.

  He spoke—

  “Your flame lost its shine eons ago.”

  His voice was cold.

  “Let’s keep it that way.”

  The world held its breath.

  Origin against Origin.

  Flame against Abyss.

  The conclusion of the battle—

  is about to be decided.