Arayn and Valen faced each other, the space between them shrinking to nothing. Arayn raised his fists, shoulders squared. His hands hovered near his face, elbows tucked in, every part of him coiled like a spring. His weight shifted, light, mobile, ready to weave and strike in the same breath.

  Valen stood wide, his body rooted like a mountain. One arm extended, fingers curled, while the other rested closer to his core, prepared to counter. His leading foot pressed forward, anchoring him, his back leg steadying his weight. Unlike Arayn’s form, Valen’s stance invited the clash, built not for dodging but for absorbing and overwhelming.

  Valen struck first. His back leg surged forward, his front leg snapping up in a powerful high kick. The air howled with its force—then crashed into nothing. His foot slammed into Arayn’s afterimage, and in the next instant, it detonated.

  Flames erupted, scorching his skin, the heat biting deep. Valen gritted his teeth, but his voice remained calm as he chanted under his breath. The charred flesh mended instantly, raw burns fading into untouched skin. Without hesitation, he pulled his leg back, but before he could fully fix his stance, the real Arayn burst through the smoke.

  A jab shot toward him. Valen’s arm snapped up just in time, absorbing the blow. Another followed. Then another. Arayn pressed forward, his fists flashing like arrows. Valen blocked them all while trying to create an opening.

  Valen’s fingers snapped toward Arayn’s jab, but the punch was too fast, slipping through his grasp like smoke. He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay calm. His heartbeat slowed, his mind cleared, and an idea took shape.

  He dropped his guard.

  Arayn’s next jab slammed into his chin. A sharp jolt ran through Valen’s skull, and for a moment, the world wobbled. His body resisted his commands for a moment, his limbs sluggish. Then came the real strike, a straight punch to his solar plexus. Pain exploded in his core, but he gritted his teeth and endured it.

  As Arayn retracted his fist, Valen saw his chance. He regained control over his body again. His elbow shot up and swung down in a brutal arc, only to strike another afterimage. The explosion ignited at the point of impact, fire swallowing him whole. This time, he refused to be thrown back. His body screamed in protest, his skin blistering, but he pushed through, tearing past the flames.

  Arayn had already moved behind the afterimage.

  Valen laughed and shouted, "You sure are a crafty man!"

  He lunged forward, driving a spear jab straight at Arayn.

  In an instant, Arayn’s stance shifted like a flowing water. One hand slid along Valen’s arm, the other pressed against his wrist. Before Valen could react, his body lifted off the ground, momentum stolen. The world flipped upside down.

  Before Valen could hit the ground, he twisted his body, planting his feet firmly. His hand shot out, gripping Arayn’s coat in a tight fist. Then, with a sharp pull, he yanked himself upright, lifting Arayn along with him.

  Arayn, still airborne, reacted instantly. His leg snapped out, a crushing kick slamming into Valen’s head. The impact sent him crashing down, the ground trembling beneath the force.

  Valen refused to stay down. The moment his head touched the earth, he pushed off with both hands, launching himself into the air. His legs tucked, coiled, then snapped out in a vicious bicycle kick aimed straight for Arayn’s head.

  Arayn twisted midair, his body spinning just enough to let the attack barely graze past him. He landed smoothly, barely a breath wasted, and without hesitation, drove a straight punch toward Valen—who was still upside down midair.

  Valen’s arms crossed in front of him, absorbing the strike. The force sent him flying backward, but he twisted his body in the air, adjusting his stance. His feet touched the ground, sliding back slightly before he came to a stop.

  Silence hung between them. They locked eyes again, their bodies tense, reading each other's next moves.

  Valen prided himself on his hand-to-hand combat skills. He had fought countless opponents, trained relentlessly, and honed his body into a weapon. Yet, he had to admit. Arayn was better in this area. his ability to read and react was almost unnatural. Not to mention, Arayn used and mastered more than one martial arts.

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  Meanwhile, Arayn studied Valen, his mind weighing every exchange. He had landed more hits, forced more reactions, but that didn’t mean he was winning. If this dragged on, stamina and mana would become a problem. Between the two of them, he wasn’t sure he had the advantage in endurance. However, going all out now was a gamble. He didn’t know if Valen had shown everything yet.

  No—he needed to keep up this pace. Keep pressing forward. Deliver more damage. Force Valen to reveal more of his hand before it was too late.

  Valen slowly raised a finger.

  Arayn’s eyes narrowed. He knew what was coming. Without hesitation, he summoned a dozen [Cursed Fangs], red projectiles brimming with demonic energy. With a flick of his wrist, they shot toward Valen like a storm of fangs ready to sink into flesh.

  Valen was prepared. A faint shimmer surrounded his finger, and in an instant, a light buckler materialized in front of him. This barrier was designed to block long-range attacks.

  Arayn expected this. He wasn’t aiming for Valen.

  The fangs struck the ground instead, erupting into a violent explosion. Debris shot into the air, smoke billowing out, obscuring everything.

  Before it cleared, Arayn acted. A small, glowing fang formed beneath his shoe—then shot into the air, aiding him upward with a burst of momentum.

  Rising above Valen, he caught sight of him looking up, a grin stretched across his face.

  White beams fired.

  Arayn reacted instantly, conjuring a crimson barrier to shield himself—but the moment a single beam struck, the barrier shattered like fragile glass.

  "His holy spell is strong!" Arayn exclaimed. His mind raced. No time to waste.

  He dove, twisting and weaving through the barrage. The beams streaked past, searing the air, but some found their mark. Pain flared across Arayn's body, but he had already adjusted his position—none of them struck anywhere vital.

  Arayn landed before Valen, burning pain coursing through his body. His legs, arms, and torso were riddled with holes—wounds left by Valen’s devastating beams. Blood dripped onto the cracked ground beneath him.

  Valen grinned, raising his arm high. His muscles tensed, mana surging into his hand. Then, with all his might, he brought it down in a powerful chop meant to finish Arayn off.

  At that moment, Arayn’s body ignited with a deep crimson glow.

  His form twisted, shifting, growing. Black armor consumed his body with red patterns glowing across its surface.

  Valen’s grin faded.

  Arayn raised his arm, blocking Valen’s chop effortlessly. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the ground, but Arayn remained unmoved.

  Valen’s eyes narrowed in caution. Without hesitation, he leaped back, but Arayn’s hand shot out like a vice, grabbing his heel mid-air.

  He slammed Valen into the ground with a bone-rattling crash. Again. And again.

  The earth cracked beneath each impact, dust and debris flying with every brutal strike. Finally, Arayn hurled Valen across the street like a broken doll, but he wasn’t done.

  He leaped high, his massive armored frame descending like a falling meteor, his foot aimed to crush Valen where he lay.

  At the last moment, Valen rolled, narrowly dodging the impact. The ground trembled as Arayn’s foot shattered the spot where Valen had been.

  Without pause, Valen sprang to his feet. His gaze locked onto Arayn’s new form.

  This fight had taken a dangerous turn. It turned out Arayn still had another card in his sleeve. However, this could be his trump card. That meant it was safe for him to use his own as well.

  Valen's fingers twitched as he prepared to unleash his trump card. The power was there, coiled within him, waiting to be set free, but a nagging hesitation held him back.

  He had always been cautious. He never played his best hand unless he was certain of victory. Right now, despite the overwhelming strength his Heavenly Demon class granted him, something felt off.

  Arayn was still hiding something.

  Valen couldn’t shake the feeling. If he committed now, if he revealed his full power, and Arayn still had more to give, he would be the one at a disadvantage.

  His instincts told him to wait. Then, a voice sneered in Valen’s mind.

  "What are you waiting for? Use [Demonic Ascension]."

  Valen stiffened. His heart pounded as his eyes darted around, searching for the source. It wasn’t Arayn. The voice had come from within.

  "The Second?" Valen asked, his thoughts racing.

  A deep, knowing chuckle echoed in his mind.

  "Yes," Azael Crimsonstar, the Second Heavenly Demon, confirmed. His voice carried urgency.

  "I recognize that form," Azael continued. "That’s the Conquest Demon."

  Valen’s fingers curled into a fist.

  "If you take this lightly," Azael warned, "you won’t win."

  Arayn shot forward like a streak of black and red, his movements so fast they left afterimages in his wake. Each one erupted into an explosion, forcing Valen to stay on the defensive. Even with his sharpened senses, even after stripping Arayn of his invisibility, he could barely react.

  "He's even faster now!" Valen exclaimed.

  Valen barely managed to raise his arms as a fist came crashing toward him,, but then, an explosion bloomed. The force sent a sharp pain through his arm, forcing him to pull back.

  That was when he saw them. Arayn’s eyes. Deep red, swirling with magical patterns.

  Valen’s breath hitched. "Corlust Eyes?"

  His voice tore out in disbelief. "Corlust Eyes? Since when did you have it?!"

  Arayn didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Instead, his fists came down in a flurry, each one detonating on impact. Valen barely had time to register the pain before he was sent hurtling through the air, his body crashing through the street like a broken comet.