The Crown of Solthar burned above his head like a miniature sun, and the air around him shimmered with impossible heat. Slowly, he raised Aethernova, his halberd, and spoke—not loudly, but with a weight that crushed the noise around him.
Zaryon (calm, resolute): "Explosions are but sparks. Let me show you the true breath of fire."
He thrust the halberd forward, and the volcanoes answered his call.
FOOOOOOSH!!!
A torrent of solar fire, hotter than anything Joren had ever seen, erupted across the battlefield. The lava rivers rose like serpents under Zaryon's command, forming a blazing inferno that swallowed Joren's detonations as if they were nothing.
Joren skidded back, his grin faltering for the first time.
Joren (still laughing but strained): "Now THAT'S what I'm talking about!"
He ignited his Explosion Awakening to its limit, his entire body glowing like a living bomb. Detonations rippled out with each step as he launched himself straight at Zaryon, screaming with unhinged excitement.
Joren: "LET'S SEE WHO BURNS FIRST!"
But Zaryon was faster.
Before Joren could close the distance, Zaryon swung Aethernova, and the very ground beneath Joren liquefied into molten magma. The Highlord moved with the precision of a seasoned warrior—one motion, no wasted effort.
The resulting eruption of volcanic force sent Joren flying back like a ragdoll, crashing into a basalt cliff with a thunderous impact.
Elion appeared behind Zaryon in an instant; he condensed fire into a blazing spear of white-hot fire aimed at Zaryon's back.
Zaryon didn't even look.
A single flick of his halberd unleashed a wall of solar flame, blocking Elion's attack and sending him skidding back.
Elion (breathing heavier, eyes narrowing): "His fire… it's different than mine."
Zaryon turned his head slightly, his expression calm yet imposing.
Zaryon: "Two Soul Reapers? It makes no difference. You tread on sacred ground you do not understand."
The Crown of Solthar rose and levitated over his head, and for a brief moment, the battlefield dimmed—even the lava rivers grew still.
And then the silhouette of Solthar appeared in the smoke behind him—a colossal beast of molten obsidian and blazing magma eyes. Its roar shook the entire region.
Joren staggered to his feet, wiping blood from his mouth, still smiling despite the burns.
Joren (coughing, manic): "Heh… finally… someone who can actually SURVIVE me…"
But even his madness couldn't ignore the truth—Zaryon wasn't struggling. Not even close.
Zaryon stepped forward once, and the temperature spiked, suffocatingly hot. The air itself bent around his presence.
Zaryon: "You will leave Pyraxis… or you will perish."
Joren's glow flared brighter, unstable, ready to sacrifice more power than his body should handle. Elion prepared another controlled strike.
But they both knew—they were facing something far beyond a simple ruler.
The ground trembled violently.
Then, with a single, deliberate motion, Zaryon raised Aethernova overhead and slammed its tip into the obsidian ground.
Zaryon (calm, but his voice rolled like thunder): "Solthar's Wrath."
The land responded.
Volcanoes miles away erupted simultaneously, and from the cracks beneath the battlefield came towering pillars of molten rock and solar fire. The lava rivers surged upward like colossal serpents, spiraling into a storm of pure volcanic destruction.
The shockwave was so intense that the entire Emberfall Region shifted, splitting into chasms of molten ruin.
Joren tried to counter, thrusting his hands forward and detonating a chain of explosions to disperse the incoming tidal wave of magma. But Zaryon's power swallowed the detonations like they were nothing—the heat of Solthar's wrath was beyond his Awakening's limit.
The blast hurled Joren through the air, his body smoldering as he crashed into a molten crater. Even his manic grin faltered, replaced by a grimace of pain.
Elion condensed all his fire into a focused barrier, but Zaryon's solar flames pierced through it effortlessly, slamming him backward. His armor cracked, and the impact left him gasping, kneeling amid the burning ruins.
Elion (through clenched teeth): "This… is on a completely different scale…"
Zaryon advanced slowly, his shadow cast long by the blazing inferno. He pointed Aethernova at the fallen Soul Reapers, his gaze unwavering.
Zaryon: "Your strength is meaningless here. Leave Pyraxis—or burn to ash."
But before Zaryon could deliver the final strike, the air shifted.
Everything went still.
The raging lava froze mid-flow. The roaring flames dimmed. Even the oppressive heat of Pyraxis faltered for a brief, unnatural moment.
A new figure stepped onto the battlefield.
Clad in a dark cloak lined with faint golden patterns, his presence was… different. Not oppressive, not chaotic—simply absolute. His eyes glowed faintly with an ethereal light that wasn't fire nor any element Zaryon had ever seen.
Soul Reaper Number 0.
He spoke with a calmness that felt heavier than Zaryon's volcanic fury.
Number 0 (quietly, but his voice echoed everywhere): "Step aside. They've proven their worth."
Zaryon immediately felt it—this was no ordinary opponent.
He tightened his grip on Aethernova, the Crown of Solthar flaring brighter.
Zaryon (lowering his stance): "Who are you?"
Number 0 didn't answer. He simply raised one hand, and for the first time, the battlefield trembled from his power.
A radiant aura spread from Number 0—not fire, not ice, not lightning… but something beyond mortal comprehension. It felt like pure divinity, an overwhelming pressure that even Solthar's essence recoiled from.
Zaryon instinctively attacked, swinging Aethernova with a force that could shatter mountains.
But Number 0 didn't move.
He simply extended a finger—and the halberd stopped in midair, frozen in place by invisible power.
Number 0: "Your fire is ancient. But even ancient flames bow to the divine."
With a flick of his wrist, Zaryon was blasted backward by an unseen force, his Crown of Solthar flickering as if it had been overpowered.
The volcanic titans dissolved into molten streams. The lava rivers stilled. Even Solthar's silhouette in the smoke wavered, its eyes narrowing—not in rage, but in recognition of something greater.
Number 0 finally moved, stepping past Zaryon with a single stride. As he passed, Zaryon felt his entire body lock, unable to move—the Divine Awakening suppressing his will and his bond with Solthar.
Number 0 (softly, almost like a whisper): "I do not seek your death. But your defiance ends here."
In an instant, Zaryon was forced to his knees, not by brute strength, but by the weight of divinity itself. His crown shattered into fragments of golden flame that vanished into the wind.
The entire battlefield went silent.
Even the Crimson Court soldiers stopped. The Flameguard stared, paralyzed by fear.
Joren, still grinning despite his injuries, let out a wheezing laugh.
Joren: "Hah… knew he'd show up… Damn… You're scary, Zero…"
Elion remained silent, his calm gaze fixed on Number 0—recognizing that even he couldn't grasp the full depth of this power.
Zaryon looked up, sweat dripping down his face despite the flames around him. For the first time in his reign, he felt powerless.
Zaryon (hoarse, but still defiant): "What… are you?"
Number 0 finally glanced at him, his expression unreadable.
Number 0: "The one who decides which flames deserve to remain lit."