Big thanks to Carlos Herrera for becoming a patron on my Patreon!
The ground trembled as Zalario and Guy clashed again, exchanging rapid strikes that shattered the surrounding terrain. Their battle had already carved a massive crater into the landscape—flashes of crimson and white cutting across the battlefield.
Each of Guy's strikes burned with Demonic Flame, a combination of spirit magic and physical dominance. Every hit was meant to break through any defense.
Zalario, by contrast, fought with calm precision. His blade moved with elegance, almost divine, deflecting and countering without wasted motion.
But as Guy intensified his attacks, summoning a massive pillar of crimson flame to incinerate the area, Zalario finally exhaled—and muttered just two words.
"Judgement King: Israfil."
A golden sigil lit up behind him—a circular, radiant symbol that shimmered with intricate patterns. The moment it appeared, the world shifted.
[Spatial Domination Begins]
The air stopped moving. Guy blinked—and for the first time, his confident grin faltered slightly.
"...Huh?"
Around them, the very space shimmered. The ground stopped cracking. Debris that had been floating midair from their last exchange froze—literally suspended in place.
Zalario stood at the center of it all, eyes glowing faintly.
"You're within my domain now."
Guy clenched a fist. "Don't get cocky."
He snapped his fingers, sending a cascade of crimson energy bolts toward Zalario—each one spiraling through the air like living flame.
But as they neared, the space around Zalario twisted.
The bolts bent.
Then turned.
And flew back toward Guy.
Guy dodged one, letting it explode behind him, then vaporized the others with a sweep of his hand.
"Spatial reflection?" he muttered.
Zalario was quiet.
[Complete Battlefield Control]
Now the terrain around them fractured into shimmering panels—reality layered into invisible slices.
Zalario raised one hand. With a flick of his fingers, the ground beneath Guy suddenly shifted upward—tilting like a panel of glass. Guy stumbled slightly before righting himself midair.
Then the space behind him closed, sealing off his retreat.
"Trying to trap me?" Guy growled, flaring his aura.
But Zalario didn't need to speak. His control was complete.
Every movement Guy made was predictable now. Every spell, every attack—delayed, distorted, or redirected. His speed was still extreme, but within the field of Spatial Domination, Zalario had the advantage of structure.
Even light magic, flame spells, or pressure waves bent under the influence of Israfil. Space wasn't just being manipulated—it was being ruled.
[Zalario's Attack—Divine Spatial Edge]
Zalario narrowed his eyes, raising his hand once more.
A long, shimmering blade formed in the air beside him—made not of metal, but of compressed spatial coordinates. It pulsed with energy, humming softly.
"Spatial Edge: Zero Cut."
He slashed.
The attack didn't travel visibly. Instead, a line appeared across the field—thin, perfect, and clean.
Guy barely reacted in time, teleporting a split second before the line passed through where he stood. The area behind him was cleaved in half—not destroyed, not broken—disconnected, as though that space simply ceased to exist for a moment.
[Guy Adjusts—Battle Resumes]
Landing on a distant rock, Guy chuckled.
"Heh… alright. You're better than I expected. You primordial angels really are something else."
He cracked his neck and flared his aura again—pushing against the field.
"But you're not the only one with a card to play."
Crimson light surged around him.
"Let's crank this up a little."
Zalario didn't move.
"You can try. But in this space… you will move only when I allow it."
It was Zalario's domain—a frozen, warped plane of layered space, every movement dictated by the will of Judgement King: Israfil.
Guy Crimson, the Crimson King, the most feared Primordial, floated midair, expression no longer relaxed. His smile had faded.
Zalario stood tall, composed. He wasn't grinning. He wasn't taunting. He was simply executing flawless control—cutting off space, bending energy, and manipulating angles.
Every time Guy tried to launch an attack—
It bent.
It slowed.
It was reflected.
Even teleportation became unstable. He would blink—only to appear inches from where he started.
"Damn it…!" Guy muttered, frustration growing.
He extended both arms, conjuring a massive vortex of demonic flame. The energy swirled violently—capable of melting mountains and vaporizing cities.
He hurled it forward.
Zalario responded with a single motion.
"Spatial Compression."
The vortex folded inward unnaturally—imploding before it could reach its target, disappearing into nothing as though it had never existed.
Guy clicked his tongue. "You're not even fighting me. You're just turning off my attacks."
Zalario said nothing.
Instead, he pointed a single finger at Guy. A golden sigil appeared above him.
"Gravity Lock—Triple Layered."
An invisible weight slammed Guy downward. The terrain beneath him cracked and cratered, though he resisted the full force.
Still, his body twitched—his pride stung.
He snarled, flaring his aura again. "You think I'm going to bow under some angel's magic trick?"
He launched himself forward, punching at full speed, his crimson aura lighting up the sky. But as his fist neared Zalario—
He stopped.
His body froze in midair.
The space around Zalario distorted once again.
"Spatial Halt."
Guy couldn't move—locked in place like a statue, his muscles frozen in a loop of motion.
Zalario approached slowly, almost sadly.
"Crimson King. You are powerful. But in my space, power means nothing without control."
Then—Zalario struck.
A sharp, clean slash of compressed space energy cut across Guy's chest. Blood sprayed into the air. A shallow wound—but it was the first clean hit anyone had landed on him in centuries.
Guy hit the ground, skidding backwards.
He lay still.
[The Breaking Point—Pride Awakens]
Smoke curled off his wounds. His muscles twitched. Blood stained his jaw.
Zalario landed nearby, watching.
For a moment… silence.
Then—
"...Heh."
Guy laughed. Not a loud, manic laugh—just a quiet, guttural chuckle that grew louder.
He pushed himself up, one hand pressing to the ground. His crimson hair shifted with the breeze.
"You know what this is?" he muttered, voice low.
Zalario tilted his head slightly.
Guy stood fully, raising his head slowly. His eyes burned. Not with chaos. Not with hatred.
But with something older—his pride.
"This feeling... this anger… I haven't felt this in ages."
"This humiliation. This insult to who I am."
His aura flared violently, crimson flames erupting outward—but it was no longer wild.
It was refined. Contained. Condensed to a razor's edge.
A notification rang silently through the world—a divine system's whisper.
[Unique Skill: PRIDE has been granted.]
[Skill: Pride – Awakened]
Pride—a defensive-type unique skill.
As long as the user's will remains unshaken, their body will not fall.
Grants complete immunity to mental and spiritual interference.
Drastically boosts resistance against spatial restraints or positional seals.
Enhances physical performance the more the user is underestimated or looked down upon.
Guy's wounds began to close slowly, not from regeneration but from sheer will.
He cracked his neck and smiled—not like a man who had lost, but a king reclaiming his throne.
"Zalario," he said calmly.
"You pissed me off."
The ground shook again—not from magic, but from Guy's presence alone.
"No more games."
The empty grasslands were no longer calm.
The air shimmered with heat and spatial distortion as Karlos, the Daemon Emperor, clashed with Misery, the Primordial Green.
Karlos's obsidian claws, pulsing with abyssal flame, came down like twin executioner blades—aimed to cleave straight through her midsection.
But—
CLANG!
His strike slammed against an invisible surface—a multidimensional barrier, barely visible, rippling in all directions like a shattered mirror.
Misery hovered just above the ground, her green hair flowing, expression calm as ever. "Reckless."
She vanished in a blink—instant teleportation—appearing behind Karlos in the space of a breath.
"Too slow."
A sharpened construct of green light—like a spear made from space itself—pierced toward his back.
BOOM!
Karlos turned just in time, deflecting it with his elbow, but the impact sent a pulse of destabilizing magic through the air.
[Karlos Adapts—Daemon Emperor Power]
Karlos smirked, the glow in his eye sockets intensifying.
"Cheeky."
His foot stomped into the earth, and dark infernal fire exploded upward in a wave—black and red energy rolling out like a storm. The grassland beneath them was scorched to ash.
Misery flew backward, but not in retreat—she phased through her own folded space portals, reappearing above him with a rain of green daggers made from compressed magic.
"Multi-Point Strike."
The daggers hit like meteorites, detonating in rapid succession. Karlos raised a curved barrier of his own, fire and shadows melding to absorb the brunt.
-----------------------
A/N: If you can, please support me on Patreon.
Link: www.Patreon.com/Gottle
(No spaces btw)
Can read up to 20 chapters ahead.