Dante and Damien writhed upon the shattered ground, their bodies barely holding together.

Torn flesh split further with every movement, exposing muscle and ruptured organs that spilt from wounds too vast to contain them. Blood pooled beneath them, dark and unrelenting, as their forms struggled to remain intact.

Their regenerative abilities fought desperately to restore what had been lost.

But they were losing.

Each attempt to heal was met with something far more insidious. The flames clinging to their wounds were not ordinary—they lived, pulsing with a will of their own.

Instead of fading, they spread.

They burrowed deeper into flesh, devouring tissue faster than it could regenerate, turning recovery into a futile cycle of destruction. Every second, the damage compounded, overwhelming even the monstrous resilience of the Apostles.

Their bodies no longer belonged to them, caught in a relentless loop of regeneration and ruin. Muscles reformed only to be torn apart again, nerves reigniting agony without end. It was not merely an injury—it was unravelling.

And as they lay there, unable to rise, unable to fight back, it became clear… their world was collapsing around them, piece by piece.

"W-What is this?"

"W-Why are the flames not going away?!"

The two Apostles tried desperately to extinguish the flames, but like an endless tide, it surged. All while Leon watched over them like the peerless demigod that he was. Ascalon was now brimming with liquified fire while Leon descended from the sky. He stared at the two Apostles, seemingly uninterested in their fragile state.

"You've lost… Surrender and I will spare your lives."

Leon didn't hesitate to look straight at the burning duo.

Even though they were his enemies, Leon had half a mind to spare the pair. While compassion was part of it and part of the Knightly conduct, it was mainly because he wished to extract information from the twin Apostles.

Compared to the small grunts that they usually capture, an Apostle was a big fish. It was rare to defeat one, let alone capture them. And more importantly, Leon wished to understand how the Apostles had become so powerful so quickly.

Unfortunately, the Twin Brutes had other ideas.

"Even if you burn us till there's nothing left, we'll never surrender!"

Damien cursed; his demonic mana surging while he mentally recited the mantra of his gospel.

"I admit you've gotten stronger," Dante snorted. "But that's about it."

Just as Damien had before, his demonic mana surged violently, erupting from the depths of his being as the Gospel of Vengeance resurfaced.

The moment it awakened, clarity followed—not of reason, but of hatred.

They remembered.

Every fragment of it.

The father who betrayed them.

The family that abandoned them.

The townsfolk who cast them out with scorn.

The church that condemned them without mercy.

And finally… the world that had stolen their childhood and left nothing in its wake.

All of it returned at once—raw, unfiltered, absolute.

And then… it converged.

That boundless hatred, that unending thirst for vengeance, found a singular target.

It twisted, sharpened, and redirected itself entirely toward one man.

Leon.

Violet and deep purple energies erupted from their broken bodies, intertwining as they rose.

They did not clash—they harmonised.

Like a twisted yin and yang, the two forces rotated around one another before collapsing inward, fusing into something new.

Their forms dissolved.

Flesh, bone, and identity were discarded as the two Apostles merged into a single, grotesque existence—a writhing mass of condensed demonic energy. It pulsed with a density so immense it eclipsed even the presence of the Demon Marquis, its aura distorting the battlefield with every expansion.

At that moment, there were few—if any—who could stand against it. Reality itself began to warp.

Space bent under the pressure of its existence, the air trembling as Leon's divine flames were forced back.

Not extinguished… but suppressed.

Held at bay by sheer, overwhelming malice.

This was not a rebirth. It was defiance.

A final convergence of hatred given form—an existence that should not be, granted a fleeting moment to enact its vengeance before collapsing into oblivion once more.

And yet… Leon simply watched.

As the newly formed Apostle of Vengeance took shape before him, his lips curled ever so slightly, into a faint, knowing smile.

"So this is their trump card… unification."

Leon had suspected as much from the very beginning.

The moment he learned that two Apostles shared a single Gospel, the possibility had taken root in his mind. Add to that the fact that they were twins—bound not only by blood, but by an unusually high compatibility—and the conclusion became inevitable.

Their power was never meant to remain separate.

It was designed to converge.

To become one.

A fearsome existence born from perfect synchronisation, where hatred and divinity intertwined into something far greater than the sum of its parts.

And now, standing before that very manifestation, Leon's suspicions had been proven correct. But understanding it… did not mean fearing it. If anything, his expression remained unchanged—calm, composed, almost expectant.

There was no hesitation in his stance, no tension in his grip on Ascalon. The overwhelming pressure radiating from the Apostle of Vengeance pressed against him like a storm, yet… he stood unmoved at its centre.

Because Leon, too, had been holding something back. A final measure. A trump card he had yet to reveal.

"If you could unify… so can I."

The Divine Lion behind Leon's back was absorbed into his core. His body was wreathed in water and flames until a coat of Lion covered him. And then, an explosion of energy. A Dharma, one that looked like a massive, immortal monarch, emerged from Leon's core. And with a single strike, it lashed out at the combined Apostle of Vengeance.

Demonic mana and divinity collided… and the world broke with it.

A shockwave erupted from the point of impact, not merely blasting outward, but erasing everything in its path. The battlefield was torn apart in an instant—earth upheaved, skies fractured, and the very air screamed under the strain of two opposing absolutes clashing without restraint.

The members of Eldorin were forced to retreat, scattering as far as their bodies could carry them, their instincts screaming for them to flee.

Even the remaining cultists and demons abandoned all semblance of formation, fleeing in blind panic from the epicentre of destruction.

Only the three Demon Nobles remained.

And even they… could not hide it.

Their expressions, once filled with arrogance and disdain, were now frozen in something unfamiliar—fear.

Leon was human.

And yet, what he displayed in that moment had long since surpassed the boundaries of what any of them believed a human could achieve.

The same applied to the Apostles.

Though they wielded the power of Gospels, they were still demonic humans—imperfect beings, beneath the notice of true pureblood demons.

The Nobles had always looked down on them, as one would lesser creatures clawing for significance.

But now… that illusion had been shattered.

What stood before them was no longer something they could measure, let alone dismiss.

Even Marquis Thurzos, whose composure had seemed unbreakable, stood rigid. His ironclad expression remained, but beneath it lay something far more turbulent—a silent storm of disbelief, of shock… and something dangerously close to awe, directed toward beings he had once deemed inferior.

The clash itself lasted only a second.

One second that decided everything.

The demonic mana, vast and overwhelming as it was, began to fracture under the pressure.

It buckled, then shattered entirely, unable to withstand the sheer dominance of Leon's newly unveiled divinity.

And just like that… it ended.

The Apostle of Vengeance broke apart, its monstrous form collapsing as the fused existence unravelled. Violet and purple energies dispersed into nothingness, and from within, Dante and Damien were cast back into the world.

Broken. Ruined. Barely alive.

To call them "normal" again would be a lie.

Their bodies had been pushed far beyond their limits—internal organs scorched beyond recognition, bones shattered into fragments, flesh still burning with lingering, inextinguishable flames.

They no longer resembled warriors, nor even Apostles.

They were remnants. Charred husks that clung to existence by a thread.

Only the faint pulse of their demonic cores kept them tethered to life, supplying just enough energy to delay the inevitable. Without it, they would have already faded into oblivion.

Leon stood over the brothers, his eyes devoid of any mercy. Truth be told, he didn't wish to kill the Apostles. But alas, sometimes allowing your enemy to go scot-free was the worst choice. So, with his blade hovering over the Apostles of Vengeance, he granted them one final act of kindness.

"Any last words?"

"..."

"..."

Neither of them spoke.

They couldn't.

Their vocal cords had been burnt to crisps and their bodies were damaged beyond repair. Heck, they were barely able to breathe, let alone speak. So, they didn't answer Leon. All they did was look at each other emptily, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

Dante and Damien stared at each other. In that instant, a million words were spoken. Not through mental transmission, but through sheer heart-to-heart connection. All of their grievances, all of their hate, all of their experiences… all of that didn't matter.

For now, they were just brothers who were witnessing each other's death.

So… Leon gave them one final act of mercy.

His blade swung, and in one stroke, he beheaded the twins at the same time.

And that was the end… of the terror that was the Apostles of Vengeance.