Crimson Principles of War

The battle between Azriel and Anos was a one sided affair.

The endless white world inside the soul realm trembled under the pressure of their clash. Waves of mana rolled across the empty expanse like invisible storms, distorting the very air with every collision of steel. The sound of swords striking echoed endlessly, sharp and violent, like thunder trapped inside a hollow heaven.

Even though at the moment Azriel was suppressing his power to match Anos, the latter was having difficulty keeping up.

Anos stepped back heavily, his boots carving deep marks into the white ground beneath him. His breathing had become rough. Black and crimson mana coiled around his body like smoke, yet every movement of Azriel still remained impossible to predict.

Clang!

Their swords collided once more.

Anos swung his massive dragon-bone blade downward with overwhelming force, enough power behind the strike to split mountains apart. Yet Azriel merely tilted one of his twin blades slightly.

The dark sword, Chaos, slid across the edge of Anos’ weapon with unnatural precision.

The attack was redirected effortlessly.

A moment later—

Slash!

A thin crimson line appeared across Anos’ chest.

Blood scattered into the empty world.

Anos immediately jumped backward, golden eyes narrowing.

He had not even seen the counterattack clearly.

Every spell Anos used was easily evaded or sliced apart by Azriel’s swords.

"Voidflare Destruction."

A massive black sphere exploded toward Azriel, devouring everything in its path. The spell distorted space itself as it moved.

Azriel simply smiled.

His crimson eyes glowed faintly.

Then he moved.

No—

He disappeared.

The sphere exploded in the distance while Azriel appeared beside Anos without even the slightest ripple of mana.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Twin swords danced like flowing rivers.

Anos blocked desperately, but sparks exploded endlessly around him as Azriel’s attacks became faster and faster.

When it came to fighting a melee Anos was in an even more disadvantageous situation. Azriel’s abilities in close range, could only be described as transcendent. His swordsmanship was literally flawless, as it easily shifted between offense and defense.

It was beautiful.

Terrifyingly beautiful.

Each movement carried a strange elegance that surpassed ordinary skill. There was no wasted motion. No unnecessary power. Azriel flowed naturally between attacks as though battle itself was merely another form of breathing.

Anos gritted his teeth.

He had fought countless enemies during his life as Demon Lord. Dragons. Necromancers. Ancient spirits. Even entire armies.

Yet this—

This felt different.

Azriel was not simply stronger.

He understood combat on an entirely different level.

Clang!

Anos barely blocked another strike before Azriel’s second sword pierced toward his throat from a blind angle.

Anos twisted violently backward.

The blue blade Serenity stopped less than an inch from his neck.

Cold sweat ran down Anos’ face.

Azriel smirked.

"You’re hesitating."

Anos snorted.

"Says the monster casually trying to cut my head off."

Azriel laughed softly.

The sound carried excitement rather than mockery.

"You wanted battle, didn’t you? Then stop thinking and fight."

The moment those words fell—

Boom!

A crimson aura exploded around Azriel.

Anos immediately felt pressure descend onto him from every direction. The white world itself seemed to grow heavier.

Then Azriel vanished again.

Anos reacted instantly.

"Nether King Art: Eclipse Fortress!"

Dozens of black magic circles expanded around him. Thick barriers layered one after another while dark spears formed behind his back.

Yet—

Slash!

Slash!!

Slash!!!

Every barrier shattered apart like fragile glass.

Anos’ eyes widened.

Too fast.

Azriel emerged directly in front of him.

Their faces nearly collided.

The vampire emperor smiled viciously.

"Your spells are powerful. But your casting rhythm still has flaws."

Bang!

Azriel kicked Anos in the stomach.

The impact blasted Anos across the white world like a meteor. He rolled violently before digging his sword into the ground to stop himself.

Blood dripped from the corner of his lips.

Still—

He was smiling.

Not out of madness.

But excitement.

Pure excitement.

"So this is what a top-ranked incarnation feels like..."

Anos muttered softly.

He stood again.

Mana exploded outward once more.

"Come again!"

Azriel narrowed his crimson eyes before grinning wider.

"That’s more like it."

The two clashed again instantly.

Shockwaves erupted endlessly.

Anos unleashed spell after spell.

"Abyss Monarch Flame!"

"Dark Star Collapse!"

"Graviton Ruin!"

Each attack possessed enough power to erase kingdoms from existence.

Yet Azriel either avoided them by the smallest margin possible or cut through them directly with his blades.

At one point, Azriel suddenly raised his left hand.

Blood flowed from his fingertips.

Not ordinary blood.

Crimson runes floated inside it.

The liquid twisted unnaturally before transforming into hundreds of razor-sharp crimson spears.

Anos froze slightly.

The aura behind those attacks felt ancient.

Cold.

Predatory.

"Blood Dominion Art," Azriel spoke calmly. "Crimson Funeral Spears."

The blood spears shot forward.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Anos blocked desperately while explosions swallowed the battlefield. Even his regeneration struggled against the damage those attacks caused.

Anos’ eyes shone brightly.

"So this is vampire combat..."

Azriel tilted his head slightly.

"You’re interested?"

Anos swung his sword and pushed away another spear before laughing.

"How could I not be? That attack was beautiful."

Azriel’s smile deepened slightly at those words.

"Most fear vampire arts."

"They’re idiots then."

Azriel chuckled.

For a brief moment, the battle slowed.

Crimson blood floated around Azriel like living serpents.

"This is possible because my body possessed true vampire blood," Azriel explained while casually blocking another attack from Anos. "Our race specialized in blood manipulation, regeneration, life force domination, and spiritual corruption."

Anos listened carefully even while attacking.

"So if I want those techniques—"

"You’d need compatibility."

Azriel sliced apart another spell.

"Without vampire blood, your body would reject most blood arts. At best, you’d only imitate the surface."

Anos clicked his tongue.

"What a waste."

Azriel laughed loudly this time.

"You really say the strangest things. Most people would be relieved they couldn’t use techniques that dangerous."

Anos snorted.

"Dangerous techniques are the best kind."

"Hah! Good answer."

The battle continued again immediately after.

Anos charged forward with renewed intensity, his sword coated in black destruction mana.

"Demon Sovereign Art: Oblivion Crescent!"

A massive black slash tore through space itself.

Azriel crossed Chaos and Serenity calmly.

"Blood Moon Reflection."

A crimson moon-shaped barrier appeared before him.

The collision shook the entire soul realm violently.

Then—

The black slash reflected backward.

Anos barely avoided his own attack, though part of his shoulder exploded from the remaining force.

He stared at Azriel in disbelief.

"You can reflect attacks too?"

Azriel shrugged casually.

"Only some."

"That’s absurd."

"We’ve lived many lives. You think absurdity stops at this level?"

Anos could not even argue against that.

Minutes passed.

Or perhaps hours.

Time felt meaningless inside the soul realm.

Their battle never truly stopped.

Still, the difference between them remained painfully obvious.

Anos couldn’t do anything to retaliate as he was outclassed in every way. Still the battle was enjoyable for the two who loved battle.

Eventually—

Clang!

Anos’ sword was knocked away again.

His body was covered in cuts and bruises. His mana fluctuated violently. Meanwhile Azriel stood calmly nearby, not even breathing heavily.

Anos stared at him silently for several moments.

Then he laughed.

A genuine laugh.

"So ridiculous..."

Azriel raised a brow.

"Giving up?"

Anos picked up his sword slowly before shaking his head.

"No. Just acknowledging reality."

The black dragon-bone sword slowly dissolved into particles of mana.

When it was finally obvious that no matter what he did Anos wasn’t going to win, he spoke to Azriel.

"Azriel, I admit that I have reached my limit in this battle. So I hope you can grant me a favor." Anos spoke as his sword faded into nothingness. Azriel looked at him in interest, he could pretty much guess what Anos wanted from him.