The mountain still trembled.
Barak's body was embedded deep into its surface, cracks spiderwebbing outward from the impact zone.
Dust slowly settled.
Then—
A shift.
Barak's fingers moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His eyes opened wider, sharper than before.
"…I see now."
His breathing steadied.
"…I underestimated you."
A faint pulse of void energy gathered around him.
Not wild.
Not unstable.
Controlled.
Refined through pressure.
"…No more holding back."
Barak raised his hand.
Space warped beside him.
From within the void—
A weapon emerged.
A sword.
Dark.
Dense.
Ominous.
Its presence alone distorted the air around it, as if reality struggled to maintain cohesion near its edge.
"…A relic from my master."
Barak gripped the blade tightly.
"This should be enough to kill you."
He vanished.
Alzwalt stood in the distance, still in the air.
His gaze remained calm.
He observed the void ripples forming ahead.
"…I guess I'll return the favor."
Without hesitation—
He extended his hand into a dimensional tear.
The space around his arm folded inward, light beginning to leak through the cracks of reality.
Then—
He pulled.
A surge followed.
A wave of divine light erupted outward into reality, shaking the surrounding world itself. The sky trembled. The ground reacted. Even the atmosphere seemed to recoil under the presence being drawn forth.
From within the dimension—
A blade emerged.
Golden hilt.
Refined.
Elegant.
On the blade—
A silver dragon was engraved, its form coiling along the metal as if alive within the structure of the weapon itself.
Alzwalt grasped the sword firmly.
He slowly ran his fingers across its surface.
At that moment—
Golden fire ignited along the blade.
Not destructive flame.
Not chaotic heat.
Divine flame.
Purifying.
Absolute.
The air around him shimmered as the weapon resonated with his presence.
Alzwalt's voice was steady.
"…Let me introduce you."
His golden wings expanded slightly behind him.
"The Sword of Divine Light—"
A brief pause.
"—St. Alzwalt Light."
"The Archangel."
Barak's eyes narrowed as he reappeared at high speed, already closing the distance.
Barak attacked relentlessly.
A barrage of sword strikes followed—each one infused with void energy capable of distorting space, cutting through conventional defenses, and disrupting energy flow.
His movements were aggressive.
Precise.
Refined through combat instinct.
A true swordsman unleashed.
But—
Alzwalt met every strike.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Each collision echoed like a divine bell across the battlefield.
Barak pressed forward, his attacks increasing in speed and ferocity.
Alzwalt remained composed.
Deflecting.
Redirecting.
Neutralizing.
Then—
With a controlled motion—
Alzwalt pushed forward.
A sudden shift in force displaced Barak backward several meters.
Not overwhelming.
Just enough to break his rhythm.
Alzwalt adjusted his stance.
Both hands now gripping the sword.
"…Enough."
He raised the blade overhead.
And brought it down.
A massive downward swing followed.
The ground beneath them reacted instantly.
A gigantic fissure split open across the terrain, stretching far into the distance like a wound in the earth itself.
Barak reacted instantly, twisting his body midair to evade.
He barely avoided the main force of the strike—
But not completely.
A portion of his arm was caught in the edge of the divine slash.
It was severed.
Cleanly.
Instantly.
No resistance.
The moment the cut occurred—
Golden divine fire ignited along the wound.
Not spreading.
Not consuming wildly.
But sealing.
Purging.
Barak's eyes widened in shock.
"…No regeneration…?"
He attempted to reconstruct the limb using void energy.
But the golden flame resisted.
Overwriting the void's attempt at restoration.
Nullifying it.
Completely.
"…Impossible…"
For the first time—
Barak felt it.
Fear.
Not hesitation.
Not caution.
True fear.
"…This power…"
He stepped back.
His breathing became unstable.
"…I can't fight this."
Without hesitation—
He turned.
And attempted to escape.
His body began to fade into the void.
Space distorting around him as he tried to retreat into concealment.
But—
A voice stopped him.
"Don't even think about fleeing."
Barak froze.
"…!"
Alzwalt stood still, sword held firmly in both hands.
His presence had already expanded across the battlefield.
Calm.
Absolute.
"Today…"
His voice lowered slightly.
"…is the day you die."
Alzwalt raised his blade once more.
The golden fire intensified along its edge.
The air trembled.
Space itself seemed to anticipate what was coming.
Barak tried to move.
But the void around him had already begun to destabilize under Alzwalt's presence.
He couldn't escape.
Couldn't hide.
Couldn't resist.
Alzwalt swung.
Vertically.
A single, clean motion.
A golden slash of divine light erupted from the blade.
It traveled instantly.
Not bound by distance.
Not slowed by space.
It cut through everything in its path.
The void—
Split.
Reality—
Split.
Barak—
Split.
The surrounding space fractured under the overwhelming force of the strike, as if existence itself momentarily failed to maintain continuity.
But Alzwalt followed through.
His divine light surged outward, stabilizing the environment.
Repairing the cracks in reality.
Restoring what was broken.
Balancing the damage caused by his own attack.
Barak's body fell apart completely.
No regeneration.
No resistance.
No recovery.
His existence had been severed at a fundamental level.
Gone.
The battlefield fell silent.
Alzwalt slowly lowered his blade.
The golden flames around it faded, though the sword itself remained radiant.
He turned away without another word.
The air returned to normal gradually.
The forest, though heavily damaged, began to stabilize under residual divine influence.
Alzwalt disappeared from the battlefield.
Reappearing moments later—
At his mansion.
Far away.
On an undisclosed continent.
Inside a dimly lit chamber—
A bead sat on a pedestal.
It suddenly cracked.
Then—
Broke apart.
A man standing nearby stiffened.
"…Barak is dead?"
His expression darkened.
"…That Alzwalt guy…"
"…is that strong?"
The door to the room opened.
A woman stepped in.
Her tone was calm.
"…Who did Barak go after?"
The man turned slightly toward her.
"…Someone called Alzwalt Light."
A heavy silence followed.
The implications settled in.
Back in Arkion—
Alzwalt entered his mansion.
His expression returned to normal.
"…Kael."
He called out calmly.
"…Let's see how my disciple is doing."