Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 648: Azaron Versus Zolthemir-2

Before Azaron could move, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor swung his scythe once again, another surge of energy erupting outwards, but this time, it came with a chilling force as he converted the energies he had absorbed into pure ice energy, refining and compressing it into something far beyond ordinary elemental manifestation.

The battlefield that had been extremely hot, burning, and searing immediately seemed to invert, turning into a sprawling mountain of jagged ice shards, frost spreading with terrifying dominance as the very air crystallized.

Azaron watched the ice race towards him, his gaze steady and unreadable; he didn’t need to be told to know this was not regular ice, as the attack surged forward, stretching for kilometres with endless expansion, he simply snapped his fingers, and in the next instant, space itself froze instantly as though time had been paused, but it hadn’t.

Azaron had simply taken absolute total over the space that surrounded them, stretching for a thousand kilometres, halting the attack mid-motion, locking it in place as though reality itself had been commanded to obey.

With another snap of his fingers, space immediately shattered with sickening ease, the ice energy capable of freezing over every form of life it came across out of existence was instantly erased from reality with effortless supremacy. The void yawned open hungrily as space was destroyed, as though it wanted to step into reality and consume everything, but in the very next instant, space began to repair itself, stitching together to hold the void back and restore the fragile balance.

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed, a rare flicker of disbelief surfacing within them; he couldn’t comprehend the ease with which Azaron was handling his abilities. Any other Crownstar Life Ranker would have been grievously injured from that first shockwave energy burst he had unleashed when his scythe connected with Azaron’s spear, yet Azaron had simply called it "weak."

Then Azaron had casually deflected the plasma attack he had absorbed, brushing it aside as though it were nothing more than a trivial inconvenience, and now, the ice energy, capable of freezing over life forms out of existence, had been completely erased through sheer spatial manipulation.

Initially, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor had believed that he and Azaron stood on equal footing, that their power was comparable, balanced even in their titanic strength, but from what he was witnessing now, that belief was rapidly crumbling, revealing a far more unsettling truth.

Before Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor could even blink, Azaron erased the distance between them as though it had never existed, appearing midair with terrifying immediacy, Ender already slicing forward towards the Emperor’s neck as he swung his spear with lethal accuracy.

Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor’s senses immediately heightened, his perception expanding as everything around him seemed to slow to a crawl, the world losing its color as it blurred into an indistinct smear, as he reinforced himself with his Astra energy. He no longer hesitated; it had become clear that matching the man known as Azaron Wargrave in pure physical force was an impossibility.

With Astra energy boosting his speed, strength, and senses to their absolute limits, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor finally perceived the spear closing in on his neck; he didn’t hesitate, he swung his own weapon to meet the attack head-on. With a piercing screech, metal met metal, bursts of orange sparks exploding outward in drowning waves as they scattered through the air. The sky above split cleanly in half from their collision, the sheer power of their clash twisting the heavens themselves into distortion.

Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor didn’t hesitate; he blurred into motion as he slashed towards Azaron’s neck with ruthless intent. Seeing the incoming attack, Azaron simply blocked it with the shaft of his weapon as though he were facing a child, his expression unchanged, his movements devoid of urgency.

"Have you been on your throne for such a long time that you’ve forgotten how to fight?" Azaron asked with a flat, almost indifferent tone; although his question carried a sharp edge of insult, he meant every word, for Azaron was not a man who wasted speech on mockery without purpose, especially not with someone he did not consider close.

But the truth was not that Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor had forgotten how to fight, but rather that Azaron was simply too monstrous, too overwhelmingly superior, capable of making a man as powerful and absurd as the Emperor, one who could wield and unleash all forms of energy, seem like nothing more than an ordinary individual in comparison.

As the Emperor was about to respond, he suddenly felt space freeze around him as though reality itself had locked him in place, and before he could even comprehend what was happening, a massive fist filled his vision, growing larger and larger the closer it came, carrying with it an undeniable sense of pain.

And with world-tearing might, Azaron’s fist thundered into the Emperor’s face. The moment his fist connected, he released his grip over space. Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor’s head snapped backwards with rocketing force, his neck following as though it might break under the strain, and in the next instant, he was launched downwards from the sky, his body transforming into a blazing streak as he slammed into the earth below with apocalyptic intensity, a vast sinkhole tearing open and stretching deeper and deeper as his body tore through the ground as though he were descending toward Crymora’s planetary core.

But Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor did not hesitate; he immediately rose to his feet and vanished from the depths of the sinkhole. The moment he did, a blur of red motion, Ender, tore downwards like a thunderbolt from the heavens, slamming into the location he had occupied a split second earlier, obliterating everything in its path.

Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor reappeared at another location, his mind racing as he processed the narrow escape; he didn’t need to be told that if he hadn’t dodged that attack, he would have been grievously injured. His thoughts churned continuously as he struggled to comprehend how Azaron was this powerful; even after augmenting his body with Astra energy, pushing himself to his utmost limits, he still failed to match him. And worst of all, deep within himself, he knew the truth, Azaron wasn’t even going all out.

’This is why I’ve always wanted to erase this bloodline,’ Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor thought to himself, yet he did not remain idle. Astra energy surged violently from his body as he unleashed another form of energy, this time manifesting as lightning. The battlefield transformed instantly into a raging thunderstorm, bolts of apocalyptic light crashing down from the sky with ruinous intensity, swallowing everything within hundreds of kilometres, each bolt striking towards Azaron with terrifying speed and precision.

Anyone who witnessed such a scene would believe that some form of Eldritch entity had descended upon the world; the sheer scale of power, the obliterating destruction, the immense energy required to sustain such an attack was nothing short of extraordinary, even by Crownstar Life Rank standards.

Azaron did not think, nor did he hesitate; he simply walked forward into the storm as though he were its creator rather than its target. Hundreds of bolts slammed into him, striking his armor with devastating force, yet they accomplished nothing; he endured them with nothing but his raw physique, every bolt of world-ending lightning that touched him bursting apart into scattered discharges of lesser energy, dissipating harmlessly around him as he continued forward without pause.