Time resumed its flow, but the world felt heavier, denser, as if still recovering from the divine stasis Lucifer had imposed.
The balcony was a chaotic ruin: jagged shards of the fortress floated midair, purple and golden fire crackled in suspended motion, and the very air hummed with the residue of divine energy.
Lucifer hovered above Zerathis's faceless form, the ruby glow of the Carnage Core infusing his longsword with violent, searing power.
His breathing was steady, his mind focused. Every muscle screamed from the effort of the previous battle, yet he was untouched by doubt.
The Avatar of Zerathis, the god whose fury had shattered his companions and twisted the air itself was within his grasp.
Below, the halo of dark fire around the god's head pulsed ominously, ready to explode, ready to destroy everything in its vicinity.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed. This was the climax. One strike, one perfect cut through the divine essence, would decide the fate of the battle.
