-In the infinite white expanse of Lastnine, where all colors were forbidden and only purity and void dared to confront each other, the very fabric of reality trembled under the relentless clashes between divine and draconic forces. The air itself seemed to scream with each impact, a symphony of destruction that echoed through the boundless void, where no horizons existed and the ground stretched eternally in flawless, blinding white.-
Mary gasped for breath, her chest heaving violently as waves of exhaustion crashed over her. Her once-glorious wings of light, vast and radiant like the auroras of forgotten worlds, were now torn and flickering erratically, like thousands of stars on the verge of extinction in a dying cosmos. Golden droplets—divine blood, ethereal and luminous—trickled down her flawless pale skin, leaving glowing trails that created stark, haunting contrasts against the endless white ground beneath her feet. Each drop hissed faintly upon contact, evaporating into sparks of light that briefly illuminated the scars of their battle.
Not far away, Jacob stood motionless and cold, an imposing figure of raw power and enigma. His hybrid form was a mesmerizing paradox, a living contradiction that defied the laws of both dragons and gods: glossy black dragon scales gleamed over rippling divine musculature, elegantly curved horns sprouted from his forehead like crowns of ancient beasts, and his mismatched eyes—one burning molten gold with the primal fury of ancient dragons, the other icy silver radiating the detached serenity of celestial beings—pierced through her with unyielding intensity.
He observed her silently for a moment, his breathing steady and controlled, as if the ferocious exchange had been nothing more than a light warm-up. Then, for the first time in this session, he spoke, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through the white realm like thunder rolling across empty heavens:
"Kid… you're still holding back too much, Mary. For the Archangel of Light to be toyed with endlessly by a disgusting half-breed like me… Get stronger."
The phrase "Archangel of Light" hung heavily in the air, laden with profound meaning, echoing faintly as if the void itself was reluctant to let it fade. Jacob had mentioned it countless times during their grueling training sessions, always with that knowing look in his eyes—as if he alone remembered a truth the entire universe had conspired to hide from Mary, sealing it away in layers of forgotten memories. It frustrated her deeply, stirring anger in her core, while simultaneously igniting a faint spark of buried recognition deep within her soul, a whisper of something ancient and rightful trying to surface.
Mary wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, her expression hardening into one of fierce determination. Light gathered around her arms in swirling vortices, condensing rapidly to form countless weapons: slender swords that hummed with stellar energy, long spears tipped with comet-like brilliance, arrows fletched with photon feathers—all forged from the pure essence of distant stars. With a sharp cry, she unleashed them in a blinding barrage, a meteor storm of radiance that tore through the white space toward Jacob.
Jacob didn't dodge even slightly. He simply stood there, unmoved, taking the onslaught head-on with arrogant calm. With a casual wave of his hand, draconic darkness erupted from his palm like a living shadow, tendrils coiling outward to swallow and nullify every weapon in explosive bursts of black light that devoured the radiance whole. In a single step—shattering the very concept of space and distance—he vanished and reappeared right in front of her, closer than breath. His leg swept upward in a devastating kick, empowered by the raw force of both dragon and god.
The impact hurled Mary hundreds of meters away, her body tumbling uncontrollably across the white plain, carving a deep, jagged trench that scarred the pristine surface like a wound on flawless marble. Pain exploded throughout her body in searing waves, every nerve screaming in protest, but she forced herself to stand, gritting her teeth as her wings flared defiantly, casting erratic shadows in the endless light.
Jacob was upon her again in an instant, showing no mercy, no hesitation. He channeled primal energy into his fist—draconic flames roaring alongside divine lightning that crackled with holy fury, intertwining in a helix of destruction—and drove it straight into her abdomen with earth-shaking force.
Mary reacted instinctively, surging her inner power to erect multiple layers of radiant barriers, shimmering shields that stacked like crystalline walls. The punch connected with catastrophic power. The shields shattered like fragile glass beneath a hammer blow, fragments of light scattering in all directions, and the residual shockwave still slammed into her gut, forcing her to double over in agony as she coughed up more golden blood that splattered across the white ground.
Yet Jacob pressed the attack relentlessly, unleashing a flurry of strikes that blurred the line between martial art and cataclysm: claws raking through the air with lethal precision, fists pounding like meteors, his dragon tail whipping with the accuracy and speed of a divine serpent. Mary blocked desperately, parried with glowing forearms, and countered fiercely—her blades of light clashing against his impenetrable scales in showers of sparkling fire and energy bursts, like fleeting fireworks blooming and dying in the sterile white world.
Mid-exchange, as their blows created ripples that distorted the void around them, Jacob admitted with a grudging tone:
"You're improving, kid."
He blocked a spear thrust with his scaled forearm, the tip piercing flesh briefly before the wound healed almost instantly, knitting together seamlessly thanks to his extraordinary hybrid regeneration that drew from both draconic vitality and godly resilience.
"But you're still fighting like someone who's forgotten who you truly are. The Archangel of Light isn't just a title, Mary. It's the inheritance of one who wants to stand beside a hero. Something that bitch Ahinel can never touch—because she doesn't value love. But you do. You cherish and love Jasmine, and that kid feels the same about you. So get stronger—to fight side by side with Jasmine, to protect the weak and restrain the strong like me and Lastnine, and to have that endless journey you promised each other!"
Once again, the hint was dropped lightly yet filled with layers of shared history, evoking flashes of vague memories in Mary's mind—promises made under different skies, bonds forged in battles long past. Mary faltered for a split second, her guard dropping as emotion surged, and Jacob immediately capitalized, unleashing a powerful palm strike that sent massive shockwaves rippling everywhere, forcing them apart with explosive force.
They pushed apart violently, circling each other warily like predators in an arena without bounds. Mary's wings regenerated slowly at first, then faster—stronger, brighter, feathers of light reforming with renewed vigor. She summoned a massive storm of light orbs, each one a miniature sun pulsing with destructive power that warped the surrounding space, and launched them into a spiraling vortex that howled toward Jacob like a galactic maelstrom.
Jacob roared—a terrifying sound that was half-dragon's earth-shaking bellow and half-god's heavenly decree—and charged straight into the storm without fear. His body erupted in towering black-gold flames that licked the void, his scales manifesting fully in overlapping plates of obsidian armor as he burst through the vortex unscathed, emerging on the other side wreathed in residual energy. In a blur, he seized her throat with one clawed hand, lifting her effortlessly off the ground, his mismatched eyes locked intensely on hers, burning with encouragement and challenge.
Jacob said, his grip firm but not crushing:
"Feel it, Mary. Power can always be honed and improved without limit. There's no ceiling for someone like you."
He released her gently and stepped back, allowing her space. After all, this was training—brutal, unforgiving, designed not to break but to awaken the slumbering potential within.
Mary nodded slowly, her resolve hardening like tempered steel. She closed her eyes briefly, drawing deep breaths to center herself, then opened them blazing with inner fire. The ground cracked and fissured beneath her aura's pressure, spiderweb fractures spreading outward. Her wings expanded to unimaginable size, spanning what felt like the width of constellations, as light poured forth from her in torrents like a supernova igniting in the heart of the void.
Jacob smiled broadly, genuine pride flashing across his usually stoic face, a rare warmth breaking through, and said:
"Now that's more like it."
The true climax began, escalating into a frenzy that pushed the boundaries of existence itself.
Mary vanished in a flash of light brighter than any star, reappearing instantaneously with a greatsword of pure creation—forged from condensed cosmic essence—slashing downward in an arc that could bisect worlds. Jacob parried expertly with his extended claws, the clash birthing a colossal shockwave that warped and distorted the white space around them, bending reality like heat haze over a desert.
They blurred into streaks of light and shadow—faster than thought, faster than sight, their forms becoming afterimages in a dance of annihilation. Mary's staff, now fully transformed into a versatile sword of infinite adaptability, multiplied exponentially in a dazzling display, forming an inescapable cage of light blades that closed in from all directions, each edge humming with the power to sever souls.
Jacob spun with ferocious grace, his tail shattering dozens of blades in sweeping arcs, his fists pulverizing hundreds more in explosive impacts, yet even more blades regenerated and replaced them instantly, the cage tightening inexorably. He laughed wildly—exhilarated, alive in the thrill of true combat—as he shattered the prison from within, countering with a devastating breath attack: black divine draconic fire that roared forth like a void-born inferno, devouring light itself and turning radiance into nothingness.
Mary shielded herself with a dome of compressed photons, then pierced through the encroaching flames with a concentrated spear of light that lanced forward like a laser from the big bang, grazing Jacob's shoulder deeply enough to draw blood. It sprayed outward—black draconic essence mingling with golden divine ichor in a beautiful yet gruesome display.
Jacob's eyes gleamed with approval as he grinned fiercely and said:
"That's it! Fight the way Jasmine inspired you to! Channel that fire, that unbreakable spirit!"
Invigorated, he charged anew, combining draconic ferocity with divine precision in a seamless barrage: claws slashing in unpredictable patterns, energy waves erupting in cascading blasts, spatial distortions folding the battlefield to his will. Mary countered flawlessly, her movements evolving rapidly—instincts long dormant awakening fully, power surging to surpass all previous limits as forgotten knowledge flooded back.
The battle reached its absolute zenith, a spectacle of godlike warfare. Craters dotted the once-pristine landscape in vast numbers, the white ground scarred with deep cracks, molten burns, and shattered fragments of conceptual matter. Explosions of light and shadow illuminated the realm in rapid succession, like warring galaxies colliding in the birth of new universes.
Mary, drawing from the depths of her soul, channeled everything into her final, awe-inspiring strike: "Divine Judgment: Eternal Verdict of Light." A colossal pillar of light, wider than mountains and brighter than a thousand suns, descended from the nonexistent sky above, engulfing Jacob in an overwhelming torrent of purifying radiance that sought to erase all impurity.
He responded without hesitation, unleashing his ultimate technique: "Hybrid Apocalypse: Dragon-God Eclipse." A massive sphere of fused black-gold energy expanded rapidly from his core, a perfect balance of destruction and creation, clashing against the pillar in a cataclysmic standoff that shook the foundations of Lastnine to their core.
The white space of Lastnine nearly shattered completely. Platonic concepts—the ideal forms underpinning all existence—began collapsing one by one in a chain reaction, ideals of light, power, immortality crumbling until no platonic ideal remained to sustain the concepts, information, and laws of the world of Lastnine. The realm itself began to crumble, its rules unraveling as it was forcibly rewritten by the sheer magnitude of their clash.
And in that precarious moment of perfect, fragile balance… betrayal struck without warning.
A cold, mocking laugh sliced through the chaos like a blade of ice:
"Enough of this farce."
Jacob's eyes widened in shock and realization. The pillar wavered, its stability disrupted.
From the void directly behind him, Ahinel emerged suddenly—the Empress of Light in all her terrifying, absolute glory. Tall and ethereal beyond mortal comprehension, with long silver-white hair flowing like liquid moonlight in an unfelt breeze, golden eyes devoid of any emotion or mercy. Her mere presence alone suppressed and dimmed Mary's light, casting an oppressive pallor over the battlefield. In her hand gleamed the Spear of Absolute Purity, a weapon forged from the origin of light itself.
The spear pierced Jacob's back in a flash too swift for reaction, protruding gruesomely from his chest in a violent spray of blood that painted the white ground in mixed black and gold.
Time nearly froze, the world holding its breath.
Mary's scream echoed endlessly, raw with horror and despair:
"JACOB!!!"
Ahinel twisted the spear cruelly for emphasis, then withdrew it smoothly only to thrust again—this time directly through his heart with pinpoint, merciless accuracy. Two strikes, each infused with the supreme, unchallengeable authority of light's primordial origin. They did not merely wound the flesh; they negated existence itself. Every form of immortality Jacob possessed—the eternal, unyielding life force of ancient dragons, the indestructible grace of divinity—was systematically overwritten, erased from reality, utterly denied and nullified.
Jacob staggered forward, collapsing heavily to his knees as blood poured freely in rivers, no longer regenerating, no longer defying death.
Ahinel regarded him with pure disgust, her voice dripping contempt as she said:
"Filthy hybrid. You dared to keep living."
Jacob coughed up thick blood, his vision blurring, but he turned his head with great effort to look at Mary—trapped helplessly in a sudden cage of impenetrable light constructed by Ahinel's mere will.
His smile… soft, reassuring, filled with unspoken affection… filled Mary with overwhelming self-reproach and grief.
He said weakly, voice steady despite the pain:
"Don't… cry… kid. Be stronger and achieve your dreams with that will…"
With his last remaining strength, Jacob reached out a trembling hand. His entire essence—centuries upon centuries of accumulated power, cherished memories, the core of his immortal soul—surged forth in a magnificent river of black-gold light, flowing straight and unerringly into Mary. It healed her wounds instantly, empowered her beyond imagination, and shattered invisible chains she never knew had bound her true potential.
His final words, whispered with fading breath:
"Take it all. Become… the true Archangel of Light who grows without limit… I'm sure Jasmine and Lastnine will be proud of you."
His body dissolved gradually, turning into countless shimmering black-and-white particles of light that drifted upward gracefully into the endless white sky, scattering like fallen stars in reverse.
He was gone. Forever.
Mary collapsed to her knees amid the now bloodstained white ground, heart-wrenching sobs escaping her as uncontrollable waves of grief overwhelmed her. Yet simultaneously, the new power flooded her being—immense, liberating power mingled inextricably with profound pain, burning rage, and a profound awakening of her true self.
Ahinel stepped forward confidently, spear raised high and gleaming with deadly intent, her voice cold and commanding as she said:
"Now… it's your turn, follower of the 'Judge.'"
Mary lifted her head slowly. Tears streamed down her cheeks in rivers, but her eyes—once uncertain—now burned with a light purer, fiercer, and more resolute than ever before, a flame kindled by loss and inheritance. Mary said firmly:
"No."
She whispered, voice growing stronger:
"Never again."
The entire white realm trembled violently, as if alive and aware, sensing the birth of a new era—one of rebellion and renewal. The war between the new generation of light, born from love and sacrifice, and the corrupted light of tyrannical purity was about to begin, destined to reshape the cosmos itself.
-to be continued-