Two hammers tore forward, one golden, one black, one holy, the other drenched in evil. Like twin thunderstorms colliding in the heart of a collapsing world, they crashed into one another with a deafening, cosmic resonance. The instant the clash subsided, both hammers moved again without a moment's hesitation, each carrying the savagery of a natural disaster, each a tempest in its own right. Their swings were not merely attacks; they were declarations of pure madness, raw power, and unrestrained will.
The Galaxy around them flashed alternately gold and black as their light exploded and vanished in rapid succession, flickering violently across the void. Anthony, still clad in his black demonic armor, became a streak of darkness. His hammer soared upward with a wicked chorus, aimed straight for the Angel's chin.
