The moment Strax finished that sentence wasn't accompanied by an explosive surge of energy or any immediate grand spectacle, but by something far more unsettling for any creature sensitive to power: an absolute shift in intent, as if something within him had finally decided to stop measuring strength and simply act without restraint.

Kharzoth sensed this even before seeing any movement.

His demonic blade, forged with effort and concentration, vibrated slightly in his hand, not from its own instability, but as an involuntary reaction to the pressure that now emanated from Strax in a much denser, rawer, more… truthful way.

There was no more restraint.

And this was worse than any direct attack.

"Then come," Kharzoth said, his voice deeper, more charged, as his demonic aura exploded around his body like a black fire fueled by despair itself, shadows distorting around him as he advanced again, this time without any hesitation or refined calculation, just pure force channeled into a single objective.

He closed the distance between them in an instant, his blade descending in a brutal arc that carried not only demonic energy but intent for total destruction, tearing the air with a sharp sound as it sought to split Strax in two.

But this time—

Strax responded.

Not dodging.

Not retreating.

He raised his hand.

And gripped it.

The demonic blade stopped.

It wasn't blocked with effort.

There was no impact.

It simply… stopped.

As if it had encountered a limit it couldn't cross.

Strax's hand was closed around the condensed energy, holding something that should be intangible, unstable, impossible to contain, as if it were just… ordinary matter.

Kharzoth froze.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second.

"...what—"

Strax squeezed.

The blade shattered.

It didn't dissipate.

It didn't fall apart.

It shattered.

Fragments of demonic energy shattered in the air like black glass, evaporating into unstable particles before even touching the ground.

And then came the counterattack.

Without warning.

Without visible movement.

Kharzoth's body was struck by an invisible force directly in the torso, an impact so absurd that the air around him violently compressed before exploding outwards, creating a shockwave that swept across the ground, uprooting roots and hurling earth and debris away.

He was thrown.

But this time it wasn't a simple displacement.

It was crushing.

His body crashed through the ground, ricocheting once before being rammed against a distant rock formation, the impact opening a new crater and causing the stone to crack as if it were made of dried clay.

For a second—

Two—

Silence.

But he wasn't dead. Kharzoth emerged from the wreckage with a roar, his form now partially distorted, the demonic energy around him unstable and aggressive, like a flame that had lost control and was now consuming even what it should sustain. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

Dark blood flowed more freely now.

But his eyes…

Still burned.

"YOU—!" his voice came out louder this time, laden with fury and something deeper, something close to frustration, as he gathered his energy again, this time not to form a refined weapon, but to unleash it all at once.

The sky above them seemed to darken slightly.

Not from clouds.

But from the absurd concentration of demonic energy that began to accumulate around him, forming a dense, pulsating, almost liquid mass that distorted the space around him.

Albedo immediately realized what was happening.

"Strax!" she called, for the first time with real urgency in her voice. "He's going to unleash everything!"

Shura had already retreated a few meters, his body low, muscles tense, instinct screaming to get out of the direct line of attack.

The small creature… didn't move.

Its eyes were fixed on Strax.

Always him.

The connection between them pulsed.

Stronger.

Clearer.

Kharzoth raised both arms.

And then—

He released it.

The energy exploded in a massive beam, a black torrent that surged forward like a deluge of destruction, engulfing everything in its path, distorting the air, burning the very essence of the environment as it charged directly at Strax with enough force to completely obliterate anything within its reach.

This time, there was no ignoring it.

It wasn't a physical attack.

It was an energy collapse.

But Strax…

Didn't move.

He just stared.

And opened his mouth again.

The world held its breath.

And then—

The flames came.

White.

More intense than before.

Much more so.

The fire that erupted from Strax wasn't just a counterattack; it was a complete negation of what was coming towards him, a primordial force that collided directly with the demonic torrent, and for an instant the world seemed to split in two.

Black.

And white.

The two forces clashed with absurd violence, creating an explosion of energy that made the ground tremble, trees uprooted, and the very air vibrate as if about to shatter.

But it wasn't a balance.

Not for long.

The white fire advanced.

Slowly at first.

Then… inevitably.

Kharzoth's energy began to be pushed back, consumed, disintegrated, as if being devoured by something that existed on a higher plane of existence.

His eyes widened.

"No—"

But it was too late.

Strax's flame completely pierced the demonic attack and collided directly with Kharzoth.

The impact was devastating.

His body was engulfed by the white light, his form disappearing within that inverted hell, while the ground beneath him simply ceased to exist, vaporized by the absurd intensity of the attack.

The roar that escaped him was brief.

And then—

Silence.

The flames ceased.

Slowly.

As if they had never been there.

What remained…

Was a line of destruction.

A deep furrow cutting through the forest, the ground completely charred, stones molten, and the air still trembling with the residual heat.

At the end of that trail—

Nothing.

Kharzoth… was no longer there.

Strax remained still for a few seconds.

Breathing normally.

As if it had been… trivial.

Behind him, Albedo watched in absolute silence, his expression finally showing no attempt to hide the impact of what he had just witnessed.

Shura said nothing either.

But his eyes were different.

More attentive.

More cautious.

And the small creature…

Approached.

Slowly.

Fearlessly.

It stopped beside Strax.

It looked at the trail of destruction.

Then… at him.

And, slowly—

It rested its small head on his arm.

The connection pulsed again.

Stronger than ever.

And, this time—

Strax didn't pull away.

Kharzoth realized the instant those words were spoken that he had crossed a point of no return, because the change in Strax's presence was no longer subtle or gradual as before, but absolute, overwhelming, and definitive, as if something that had been contained until then had finally been released without any restraint.

The air ceased to be merely heavy.

It became hostile.

Each breath slightly burned his lungs, not from heat, but from the absurd density of energy that now occupied that space, compressing everything around with an authority that accepted no contestation.

Kharzoth did not hesitate.

He attacked.

But this time it was not a direct advance, nor a simple blow, nor even a conventional attempt at combat; his form fragmented into multiple images at once, shifting at impossible angles as his demonic energy exploded around the battlefield, creating blades, shards, and cutting waves that spread in all directions with the intent to annihilate.

It was a saturation attack.

A brutal method.

Inevitable.

Or it should have been.

Because Strax didn't react as an ordinary creature would in the face of something of that magnitude.

He didn't retreat.

He didn't block.

He didn't dodge.

He charged forward.

Straight through the attack.

The demonic blades struck him.

Or at least… they tried.

But upon touching his skin, they simply crumbled, as if lacking the structure to even exist at that level of pressure, dissipating into black particles that evaporated before completing their movement.

Kharzoth's eyes widened.

That wasn't resistance.

It was denial.

As if the very concept of harm was being rejected.

"Impossible—"

He didn't finish.

Strax was already in front of him.

Without warning.

Without transition.

Strax's hand closed around Kharzoth's face with a speed that couldn't be matched even by advanced demonic perception, his fingers sinking slightly into the dark skin as the impact of the movement pushed the demon's body back with increasing violence.

And then he didn't stop.

He continued.

Dragging Kharzoth across the floor. The earth split open.

Stones were crushed.

Roots were ripped out as the demon's body was slammed against the ground with enough force to leave a deep trail of destruction that cut across the clearing like a living scar being etched into that moment.

The sound was brutal.

Raw.

Constant.

Until—

Strax launched him.

Without apparent effort.

Kharzoth's body was hurled high into the air, spinning wildly as it soared dozens of meters above the treetops of the destroyed trees, piercing the air like a projectile launched by a force that shouldn't exist on that plane.

For a brief instant…

There was silence.

Then Strax disappeared.

And reappeared above him.

In the air.

Waiting.

Kharzoth barely had time to react.

His body was still spinning when Strax appeared beside him, and the impact came the instant he tried to stabilize his form, a downward blow that struck his torso directly and hurled him back to the ground with multiplied force.

The fall wasn't a collision.

It was a detonation.

The impact with the ground created an even larger crater than the previous one, an explosion of earth, rock, and energy that spread in concentric waves, knocking down what remained of the nearby trees and raising a dense cloud of dust that completely obscured vision for a few seconds.

But Strax was already there.

Descending slowly.

As if gravity were merely a suggestion.

His feet touched the ground inside the crater softly, a stark contrast to the violence of the previous impact, while his eyes remained fixed on the partially buried figure of Kharzoth.

The demon wasn't dead.

But it was… broken.

His body slowly regenerated, the demonic energy attempting to restore what had been destroyed, but there was a flaw.

Something wasn't working as it should.

The pressure.

The presence.

It was interfering.

"…what…you…" Kharzoth's voice came out distorted, faltering as he tried to rise, his limbs trembling not only from the damage but from the growing instability of his own essence.

Strax stepped forward.

And the ground responded.

It always responded.

"You've spoken too much," he said calmly, his low voice echoing strangely clearly even amidst the surrounding destruction, as if the environment itself carried his words.

Kharzoth tried to react.

His energy exploded again, more desperate now, more chaotic, forming black claws that lunged toward Strax in a final counterattack.

But before the blow even reached him—

Strax opened his mouth again.

And the world trembled.

This time it wasn't an immediate explosion.

It was worse.

The air was sucked away.

As if everything around was being pulled into a single point, concentrating on what was about to happen, creating a momentary vacuum that made even sound disappear for a brief instant.

And then—

The fire came.

More intense.

More dense.

More absolute.

A torrent of white flames erupted directly against Kharzoth at an almost negligible distance, completely engulfing his body before he could even react, consuming not only his physical form but also the very demonic energy that kept him existing on that plane.

The scream that followed wasn't just one of pain.

It was one of rupture.

Of something being undone.

Disintegrated.

The flames engulfed everything within the crater, expanding for several meters before finally beginning to dissipate, leaving behind only residual heat and a heavy silence that seemed to echo the violence of what had just happened.

When the light went out—

Kharzoth was still there.

On his knees.

But barely recognizable.

His body was partially charred, fissures glowing with unstable energy running across his skin as his form struggled to hold itself together, as if on the verge of simply… ceasing to exist.

He tried to lift his head.

His eyes met Strax's again.

And this time… there was no doubt.

No calculation.

No arrogance.

Just one thing.

Fear.

"…this… isn't… over…" he murmured, his voice faltering as his form began to slowly dissolve at the edges, unable to sustain his presence much longer in that state.

Strax watched him for a few seconds.

Without haste.

Without apparent emotion.

Just assessing.

Then he spoke.

"For you?" his voice came out low, almost thoughtful. "It's over."

Kharzoth tried to answer.

But he couldn't.

His body finally gave way.

The demonic form began to collapse upon itself, dissipating into black smoke that was slowly carried away by the air, leaving behind only the echo of his presence and the certainty that this… had not been an ordinary victory.

It was an execution.