Rehan's fist tore through the air with the catastrophic roar of a collapsing star.
The concentrated stellar radiance around his knuckles compressed space itself into a singular point of absolute destruction. His blow landed directly dead-center on Morgath's chest core.
BAAAAM—!
A deafening shockwave inverted the gravitational pull of the entire rift, blasting away massive chunks of floating stone for thousands of meters. The force punched a hollow depression through Morgath's sternum, sending dark, viscous ichor erupting from the demon's maw.
Yet, Morgath did not fly backward.
Instead, a chilling, gruesome laughter hissed through his razor-sharp fangs.
"Did you really think a mortal's fist could shatter an absolute armament?" Morgath growled, his bottomless void eyes flaring with malicious delight.
His remaining arm—the upper-left limb gripping the towering Death Scythe—swung downward in a lethal, crushing counter-arc. Rehan reacted instantly, throwing both his aura-coated forearms up to brace against the black-iron shaft to shatter it just as he had crushed the dagger.
CLANGGGGG!
A bone-jarring vibration shot through Rehan's skeleton, cracking the dense armor of compressed golden light shielding his arms. The scythe did not splinter. It did not crack. It bore not a single scratch.
The weapon hummed with an indestructible, primordial density—an immutable manifestation forged from the weight of millions of harvested lifetimes. It was indestructible, refusing to yield to physical force.
"You fools rely on brute kinetic impact!" Morgath roared, his four-armed frame standing towering and unshakeable. "You know nothing of the true mysteries that govern the spirit!"
The green-black mantle behind Morgath flared violently, defying the laws of reality as ancient, forbidden runes ignited along the surface of his skin. The air grew freezing cold, thick with the stench of stagnant graves.
"Awaken, Soul Wielder!"
Morgath didn't merely strike with martial weapons anymore; he wove high-tier necrotic sorcery. From the void beneath their feet, hundreds of ghastly, translucent spectral hands erupted from pools of dark green mist, clawing furiously at Rehan's boots to bind his spiritual vessel.
Simultaneously, Morgath channelled his dark art into the blade of the Death Scythe:
"Soul Reaping Curse: Phantasmal Decapitation!"
The blade of the indestructible scythe turned ethereal, phasing straight through the physical plane to target the intangible fabric of Rehan's soul itself. A cold, suffocating dread washed over the space, threatening to sever Rehan's spirit from his physical body with a single, unblockable stroke.
Rehan's breath hitched as the spectral claws dragged his feet down, the phantom blade descending within inches of his spiritual core.