Asher walked forward.
Slowly.
Each step cracked the earth beneath him.
His hair was completely crimson now — not glowing, but burning.
His eyes were like open flames.
There was no emotion in them.
No rage.
No sorrow.
Just destruction given form.
Miasma understood immediately.
This wasn't controlled power.
This wasn't strategy.
Asher's body was moving on something beyond conscious will.
"Interesting…" Miasma muttered.
He moved first.
Black venomous spears formed in the air and launched toward Asher at impossible speed.
They tore through space.
Asher tilted his head slightly.
He stepped once.
The spears missed.
Another wave.
Blades. Needles. Explosive toxins.
Each one capable of erasing cities.
Asher walked through them.
Not blocking.
Not countering.
Simply shifting his body by millimeters.
Every attack missed.
Miasma's eyes narrowed.
He multiplied his assault.
Storms of poison.
Gravity distortions.
Core-powered shockwaves.
The battlefield became unrecognizable.
But Asher kept walking.
Untouched.
Untouched.
Untouched.
"Enough."
Miasma vanished and reappeared directly in front of him.
He drove a concentrated strike into Asher's chest — a blow amplified by a century of evolution.
The impact shattered the ground for miles.
Silence followed.
Dust cleared.
Asher was still standing.
The punch had landed.
It simply didn't matter.
Miasma's expression shifted.
For the first time—
His pulse changed.
Inside his mind, a quiet realization formed.
After one hundred years…
I am feeling fear.
His core trembled.
And then—
A voice echoed within him.
Smooth.
Ancient.
Cold.
Lord.
"Are you afraid… Miasma?"
The world around him dimmed as the voice filled his consciousness.
"Fear belongs to the weak."
"You are the strongest."
"You are Miasma."
"Do not fear."
A shadowed hand manifested in his mind and rested upon his head.
A cold reassurance.
A command disguised as comfort.
Miasma inhaled sharply.
The trembling stopped.
His eyes hardened again.
"Yes… I am beyond fear."
He roared and swung his fist directly into Asher's face.
The blow landed.
Asher's head turned slightly from the impact.
Then—
Silence.
Slowly—
Asher's face turned back.
Unbothered.
Then he moved.
The first punch landed in Miasma's abdomen.
A deep, crushing sound echoed.
The second hit his jaw.
The third his ribs.
The fourth his core barrier.
Then—
It didn't stop.
Asher's arms blurred.
Dozens of strikes.
Hundreds.
Each one heavier than the last.
Each one precise.
Miasma felt it.
Pain.
Real pain.
His body bent under the assault.
His wings tore.
Dark matter splintered from his frame.
He tried to counter.
His arms moved—
But too slow.
Another punch shattered his guard.
Another cracked his internal structure.
Another sent shockwaves through his core.
Miasma's thoughts fractured.
This is impossible—
Another strike.
I evolved—
Another.
I am—
Another.
His body was being overwhelmed.
For the first time in a century—
Miasma could not respond.
He could only endure.
And endure.
And endure.
Asher said nothing.
No screams.
No battle cries.
Just relentless impact.
The sky turned completely red.
And Miasma realized something horrifying.
This wasn't rage.
This wasn't revenge.
This was extinction.