Manon stood firm before Marquis Thurzos, his presence alone anchoring the chaos around him. His spear trembled—not from fear, but from resonance—humming with the energies of the world itself. The air bent subtly toward him, currents of wind coiling along the shaft as if answering an ancient call.

Power gathered within his body, surging through every fibre of muscle, sharpening his senses as he prepared to face the greatest threat he had ever known. In the absence of Leon, Amon, and Yue, Manon stood at the pinnacle of Eldorin's strength.

There was no one more suited to this role, no one else capable of confronting the most powerful Demon Noble on the battlefield. It was not a matter of choice—it was inevitability.

If Thurzos was to be stopped, it had to be him.

And yet… As the Demon Marquis's presence unfurled, that certainty wavered.

Demonic mana flooded the battlefield like a rising abyss, dense and suffocating, pressing against Manon's senses with an almost tangible weight. It was vast—far beyond the scale of any opponent he had faced before—each pulse of it carrying a promise of annihilation.

The six-eyed demon did not simply stand before him; he dominated the space itself, warping the atmosphere with his existence alone. For the first time in a long while, Manon felt it— not doubt, but something close. A quiet, creeping apprehension, born not from weakness, but from instinct.

'A Demon Marquis is not that much weaker than the Demon Prince that Amon fought… This is going to be troubling.'

Manon had witnessed the battle between Amon and the Demon Prince. He'd experienced every shockwave, every energy surge, and he'd witnessed the aftermath.

A battle of that calibre was something he could never match, even if he had absorbed the Sky Titan's divinity. Fortunately, the Demon Marquis in front of him wasn't at that level quite yet, but his strength wasn't anything to scoff at either.

Manon suspected… that Marquis Thurzos wasn't any weaker than the Apostles that Leon was fighting.

'Then, I'll make the first move!'

Manon moved first. He launched himself forward, his body flowing seamlessly with the momentum of his spear, every ounce of strength and technique converging into a single, decisive thrust. The strike tore through the air with a deafening crack, its force so immense it could have pierced clean through a mountain.

But Marquis Thurzos did not retreat.

Demonic mana surged along his arm, condensing around his forearm into a dense, obsidian gauntlet—an unbreakable sheath of aura that met Manon's strike head-on.

The impact detonated the ground beneath them, shockwaves ripping outward as steel and demonic force collided.

Manon did not falter.

Riding the recoil of his own attack, he transitioned seamlessly—stance flowing into stance, technique chaining into technique with flawless precision.

His spear became a blur, each movement sharper, faster, deadlier than the last.

With every swing, the sky answered him.

Lightning split the air, thunder roared in tandem, and violent winds coiled around his weapon, amplifying each strike with the wrath of a storm.

This was the Sky Spear.

This was the culmination of a warrior who had learned to wield the heavens themselves—his mastery reaching a level few in the world could even comprehend.

And yet… Marquis Thurzos remained unmoved.

His six eyes tracked everything. Each one followed a different vector, dissecting Manon's movements with terrifying clarity, as though the future itself lay bare before him.

Where Manon embodied speed and relentless pressure, Thurzos answered with absolute control.

Every strike was met, deflected, or nullified with minimal motion, his body moving with a quiet, monstrous efficiency that revealed a mastery of martial combat far beyond brute strength.

Manon's relentless assault began to lose its edge, his momentum stalling under the suffocating precision of his opponent.

And in that fleeting moment… Thurzos found his opening.

A single punch.

There was no flourish, no wasted motion—only pure, devastating force.

The impact landed before the sound could follow. Manon's body was launched backwards like a cannonball, the air itself shattering in his wake as he was hurled across the battlefield. He tore through the distance in an instant before crashing violently into the walls of Morzeth, stone erupting on impact as the fortress trembled under the sheer force of the blow.

"Not bad, you're quite skilled for an inferior creature."

"Kah…"

Manon coughed violently as he regained his bearings. The damage from Marquis Thurzos' single punch was extreme, even for an artificial human such as himself. That's when Manon realised how much he'd underestimated the Demon Empire.

Or rather… how much they'd underestimated the Demon Realm.

A Demon Marquis alone could destroy entire cities and was equivalent to a nuclear warhead. And lord knows how many had emerged from the rift between dimensions, allowing their world to be invaded by an untold number of dominating warlords.

But… That was something for Manon to think about later.

Now, the most pivotal thing was to survive this battle.

Manon rose from the shattered stone, breath ragged but resolve unbroken.

With a violent sweep of his spear, he tore the air apart, summoning a raging tempest that spiralled outward from his position. Wind howled, the ground fractured, and the sky above answered his call. He poured everything into it.

Every drop of mana he possessed surged through his body and into his weapon, until the Sky Spear could no longer be called mere steel—it became a conduit of the heavens themselves.

Lightning coiled around it in violent arcs, thunder detonating with each pulse as bolts lashed out and slammed into the earth, turning the battlefield into a storm-wracked domain.

Then… he vanished.

Or rather, he became something faster than sight.

In a blinding streak of light, Manon shot forward, his body and spear unified into a single, unstoppable line. In that moment, he was no longer a man—he was a harbinger of death, a spear of judgment descending from the sky itself, aimed directly at Marquis Thurzos' heart.

Even the Demon Marquis reacted.

For the first time, Thurzos adjusted. His stance shifted, grounding itself with deliberate precision as vast quantities of demonic mana surged into his arm. Darkness condensed around his fist, black and violet energies folding in on themselves until his entire limb became a fortress of raw power.

Then, with perfect timing, he struck forward, meeting the incoming spear head-on.

The collision was catastrophic.

Black and purple energies erupted outward, clashing against blinding arcs of lightning in a violent explosion that devoured everything in its radius. The very air fractured under the strain, creating a space so hostile that survival within it was impossible for any lesser being.

For a heartbeat, the two forces held.

Then… something gave.

Manon's spear slipped.

It carved past Thurzos' guard by the narrowest margin, piercing through the demonic defence and driving deep into the Demon Marquis's chest. The impact reverberated like a thunderclap, the force of it carrying through flesh, bone, and mana alike.

For the first time since the battle began, Thurzos' expression changed.

All six of his eyes flared with violent intensity, the calm indifference replaced by something far sharper.

In response, he lashed out instantly, his fist crashing into Manon with overwhelming force and sending him hurtling away like a swatted insect.

But the damage had been done.

As the spear tore free from his body, something lingered.

A foreign current coursed through Thurzos' form—violent, erratic, invasive. Lightning did not simply strike him; it remained, crawling through his veins, disrupting the flow of his demonic mana and throwing his senses into disarray.

For the first time, his body betrayed him.

Dropping to one knee, the Demon Marquis steadied himself, muscles tensing as he forced control back into his limbs. His six eyes locked onto Manon in the distance, burning with something far more dangerous than anger.

Then his lips curled... Into a sinister, knowing smile.

"How unsettling… You actually damaged me."

For the first time since entering this dimension, the Demon Marquis had drawn blood.

No, for the first time in over a thousand years, Marquis Thurzos had been wounded in battle. Back in the Demon Realm, he had led legions for the Demon King, charging fearlessly across their galaxy while taking over empire after empire. But, no matter how many planets they conquered, the Demon Marquis had barely had a challenge.

Until today, that is.

"Inferior creature, you've proven your worth."

The Demon Marquis had its wounds healed up in a few seconds, before staring down at the fatigued Manon. Demonic mana pulsed in his veins as he created a thick armour of battle aura. And with increasing momentum, Marquis Thurzos was ready to strike with everything that he had.

Unfortunately…

BOOM!!!

Before their clash could reignite, the sky above them fractured.

No—something fractured.

A sharp, crystalline crack split across the heavens, followed by a thunderous shatter that echoed across the entire battlefield.

The glass-like cage that had sealed Leon away with the two Apostles collapsed in a cascade of shimmering fragments, its broken remains dissolving into nothingness as if reality itself had rejected its existence.

And from that rupture, two figures fell.

Dante and Damien plummeted from the sky like discarded remnants of a failed war, their bodies tumoring lifelessly through the air before crashing into the ground below.

The impact sent debris flying in all directions, carving craters into the battlefield.

They did not rise.

Their forms were barely recognisable. Their bodies were mangled beyond recognition. Arms hung at unnatural angles—some shattered, others missing entirely.

Flesh was scorched black, skin torn open, bone laid bare.

Limbs had been severed, their regenerative abilities pushed past their limits. For beings who embodied power and arrogance, they now resembled nothing more than broken husks.

Silence followed.

Then… he came.

Leon descended.

Not as a man, but as a force. He fell from the shattered sky like a war deity given form, his presence alone pressing down upon the battlefield with suffocating authority.

In his grasp, Ascalon gleamed with blinding radiance, its light cutting through the lingering chaos like a divine verdict.

Around him, twin pillars manifested—one of roaring flame, the other of surging water—spiralling downward in perfect harmony as if the elements themselves had bent to his will. With each step he took upon the air, the battlefield trembled.

The message was unmistakable.

The battle above had ended… And Leon had won.