The aura they feel is beyond anything they expected. Even for Champions, it is unthinkable to fight someone whose aura has reached Peak Diamond Rank. Even though—when guided by Jacob—they can fight Regional Bosses at Early Diamond Rank and possibly a Dungeon Boss at Intermediate Diamond Rank, this is a whole different matter.

Azrakel is not a monster; he isn't a mindless bag of flesh and bones that wants to consume everything. Being an Infernal, and a Royal at that, he's much smarter than any monster they would face in the near future. There's no way for any of them to fight him. Not without revealing their greatest trump cards.

* * *

King Baalrek?

He's Corrupted by Asmodeus's power, Cloud. He's stronger than his sister.

King Baalrek's voice comes low and guttural. There's anger in it—fury I've rarely heard from the Infernal. I suppose that's not unexpected since Azrakel is a traitor to his race.

Azrakel looks around the wetlands. His gaze sweeps past each Champion as if he weighs their worth and finds none. His eyes stop only for a moment on Iskara, then return to me.

Before anyone can move, his voice cuts through the silence.

"Soul Shock."

The words carry power. A wave of Soul Magic bursts out from him, invisible yet crushing. My knees almost buckle, and the air grows heavy in my chest. One by one, the others fall. Their bodies slump to the ground, senseless and without strength.

Only Iskara and I remain standing.

"Oh?" Azrakel looks curiously at me. "Who taught you Soul Magic, Fake Champion?"

King Baalrek? I say inwardly, taking a nervous look at every single body on the ground.

I wrapped your soul in a protective layer of Mana, he says. Worry about the incoming fight, Jacob Cloud. This is going to be your greatest test yet.

I look at Azrakel and take a deep breath.

This is an easy fight—not because it will be easy to defeat Iskara's brother, but because he's so strong and our options are so limited that there's only one solution.

Or at least that's what I think.

"Ugh," I hear someone groan from behind, and I turn to see Orrivane slowly getting up. His eyes are bloodshot, and there's a strange hardness in them.

Orrivane is, without a shadow of a doubt, the laziest, most laid‑back Champion in our group. Even Boomgar has a better work ethic than the Void Mage. He's also the most relaxed—more so even than Asterion. I've never seen Orrivane get bothered by anything—not even when we were fighting a horde of Magma Golems during Rafnov's trial.

"You bastard…" Orrivane's body shakes and spasms as he gets up. "My soul… you don't touch my fucking soul. Never… Never again."

"Oh? You have Soul Magic training?" Azrakel says, almost impressed, yet still bored by Orrivane. "But I don't care for you. Die."

Azrakel waves his hand and a projectile of plasma appears in midair, speeding so fast toward Orrivane I can't even track it.

Orrivane's disheveled blonde hair starts floating upward as a massive amount of power manifests through the young man.

"Event Horizon."

A sheet of darkness appears in front of Orrivane and swallows the attack as if it is nothing.

That is a Rainbow Skill, Jacob Cloud, King Baalrek says slowly. One of the most powerful defensive Rainbow Skills I know.

I look closer and find no residue of Azrakel's attack. It's as if it completely disappeared into nothingness.

Azrakel, clearly not having caught up with what the Skill actually is, sends a barrage of plasma bolts toward Orrivane. Yet they all disappear into the thin sheet of darkness the Void Mage has summoned, without making a sound.

"Princess Iskara," Orrivane says, dispelling the curtain of darkness and walking forward, making a now‑wary Azrakel backpedal. "I hope you won't mind if I kill your brother."

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"Who are you?" Azrakel asks, frowning. "What kind of Skill is that?"

But then, I see a rivulet of darkness appear behind Azrakel's head and pool around his ear.

"A Rainbow Skill?" the Infernal says, disgusted. "You possess a Rainbow Skill just like my sister? Of course."

Orrivane takes out a hairpin and ties his blonde hair up as he looks at Azrakel.

"What Skill is it?" Iskara asks.

But I've already activated the Grimoire.

[Analysis Completed: Event Horizon]

[Event Horizon (Defensive — Rainbow Skill): Event Horizon generates an all‑swallowing, impassable barrier. The size and shape of the barrier depend on the user's power.]

Impassable? I ask inwardly. As in, nothing can break it?

Welcome to the world of Rainbow Skills, Jacob Cloud. Rainbow Skills are named so because they transcend Rank. Your Grimoire can analyze any Skill, regardless of its Rank. That is an ultimate Support Skill. Event Horizon is one of several defensive Skills that transcend Rank themselves.

Azrakel's eye twitches when the analysis finishes. He looks at Orrivane with a stare that holds more annoyance than fear, but I can see his aura shift. He knows the truth of what he just saw.

"Impassable," Orrivane repeats, almost lazily, as if he heard Baalrek's words himself. His voice is hoarse, but the hatred inside it makes every syllable sharp. "You tried to crush my soul. You don't get to walk away after that."

"Do you think you can stand equal to me?" Azrakel bares his teeth. "You are nothing but a worm with one trick." His hand glows again, molten light building in his palm.

Orrivane does not flinch. The sheet of darkness reforms in an instant and eats a gigantic plasma lance that Azrakel summons.

Iskara watches, her veins pulsing bright. I can see her jaw tighten, but she does not interfere. Maybe she wants to see which one of them falters first.

I look down at the others, still unconscious on the ground, and then back at Azrakel. He wanted to cut us down without effort, but Orrivane's barrier is impossible to break.

Baalrek's voice rumbles through my mind again.

This fight is no longer simple, Jacob Cloud. If you want to win, you'll have to account for the Rainbow Skills of your allies now.

Rainbow Skills transcend Rank, Jacob Cloud. Baalrek's voice grows heavier, as if each word is carved into stone. They are not measured by Iron, Bronze, Silver, or Diamond. They do not belong to those ladders. Rainbow Skills bend the system itself. They draw from concepts that cannot be bound to level or tier. When you face one, you do not measure power the way you do with other Skills. You measure possibility.

I keep my eyes fixed on Orrivane's darkness, which swallows Azrakel's attacks without sound or effort.

A defensive Rainbow Skill means this: the user has a shield that cannot be broken through normal escalation. Rank, Aura, Attribute—even refinement of Mana itself—cannot pierce it. Only another Rainbow Skill, or an authority on the same level, can meet it head‑on. That is why Rainbow Skills are feared. That is why those who hold them are hunted.

I swallow, my throat tight. So they are absolute?

Nothing is absolute, Baalrek answers, sharp. But for mortals, they are the closest thing. Event Horizon consumes, and what it consumes does not return. You see now why the void is feared.

Before I can ask more, the air in the wetlands fills with another kind of pressure.

I turn to see Iskara stepping forward. Her body begins to glow, light surging through her Infernal veins until it outlines every muscle, every tendon.

Her lips part, and a low chant rolls out in the harsh cadence of Infernal. The sound vibrates against the water of the ponds, making it tremble.

The ripples spread across the surface in sharp lines, as if the chant itself carves into the water.

Steam rises from the edges. Drops lift into the air and hover for a moment before bursting into sparks of light. The smell of sulfur thickens, and the whole wetlands feel like they're about to tilt and fold toward her voice.

Azrakel's glare hardens. He recognizes the tongue, and his hands curl into fists.

Iskara does not falter. Her chanting grows louder, her glow stronger. The veins in her arms shine bright red, and the ground beneath her cracks as if it cannot hold the power running through her body.

Orrivane pauses and glances at her, his dark veil hovering but still in place. Even he seems uneasy at the sound of the Infernal words.

What is she doing? I ask King Baalrek. What's she saying?

Those are Skills enhanced by remnants of Primordial spellcasting in the tongue of Devils. Princess Iskara is NOT a Support as she would like you to believe. And you should know this already.

As soon as he mentions Skills and Support, I understand what's happening. I've read the description of Lucifer's Veins before, but it takes me a moment to put the pieces together.

Nonetheless, King Baalrek explains it himself.

That is Lucifer's Veins, Jacob Cloud, Baalrek says, voice weighted. It IS a Rainbow Skill. One of the most feared that ever appeared among Infernals. It voids every debuff—curse, poison, seal. Nothing can weaken her. It is hard to fully integrate in the body without the right knowledge, which is why she had so much buildup of impurities in her veins. But you cleared that for good. And the resistance to debuffs is only the first half of the Skill. More than that, every buff she receives will stack without end, without limit, without reason. Where others reach a limit, she has none. That is why she chose to learn so many support Skills. To others they are scraps, but for her they are the stones of an infinite ladder.

I stare at her body, the light crawling over her skin as her chanting continues, and I finally understand the way she fought in the trials, the way she always leaned on buffs.

It seemed inconsistent with her character that she'd become a Support.

She is not a Support, Jacob Cloud, Baalrek says, his tone sharp enough to cut. She is a Breaker. With that Skill, she can infinitely jump in Rank.

Azrakel lets out a low snarl as the ground shakes under his sister's growing aura. "So you would bare it here, Iskara?"

Her chant only grows louder.

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