Cain met Meylin's gaze. For a brief heartbeat, the two shared only silence, a silent pact forged through fire and blood. Then they nodded once—no words needed—and launched themselves into battle.

A burst of scarlet flames roared to life around Cain, engulfing both his body and the Sky Devourer in a mantle of annihilation. He lunged toward the fallen seraph, leaving Meylin free to focus her full might against the goddess of lightning.

The Scarlet Reaper's power had grown alongside Cain's cultivation. The flames did not simply burn; they consumed, devouring matter, spirit, and even echoes of energy, and sending all that power into Cain's body. They were an extension of his will, an evolving storm of destruction.

The fallen seraph's eyes turned colder than the void itself as he felt the weight of Cain's presence. His aura surged in response, darker and more suffocating than when he had fought Meylin. With a flick of his hands, he conjured vast tornadoes of flaming darkness, each one spinning like a cosmic maelstrom, and hurled them at Cain from every direction.

Cain's expression sharpened. His instincts screamed of danger. Other than Azazel and Legion, this being might well be the strongest opponent he had ever faced. He knew nothing of the man—no name, no origin, no allegiance. And yet it was clear: Meylin had not been his true target. Cain was.

There were theories swirling at the edges of Cain's mind—suspicions, fragmented ideas—but battle left no room for speculation.

Sky Devourer met the first tornado head-on, its edge screaming with scarlet fury. The impact rattled Cain's bones to the core, pain lancing down his arms, but the maelstrom shattered. He pressed forward, cleaving through a second, a third, and then more. Each cut carried him closer, closer, until at last the towering figure of the fallen seraph loomed within striking distance.

Cain's muscles coiled, every fiber of his being surging as he funneled his cultivation into a single strike. His energy boiled, howling to be unleashed.

"Seventh Stance—Sword of Endborn Silence!"

He roared, unleashing the final stance of the World-Shattering Sword, Sky Devourer slicing through the void with the power to unravel matter, energy, and spirit alike. He did not hold back. Whoever this enemy was, Cain chose to strike with his strongest move from the very start.

The fallen seraph's gaze narrowed. There was no fear in his eyes—only cold determination. His right hand ignited, glowing so fiercely it seemed as though a black sun had been born in his palm. He thrust forward to meet Cain's strike.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

Sword and hand collided. The clash was apocalyptic, a detonation of red flames and searing dark light that rippled across the battlefield, ripping apart the surrounding void. Waves of destruction radiated outward, obliterating stars and swallowing sound.

Locked in deadlock, Cain's blade refused to yield, and the seraph's hand refused to break. Power met power in perfect stalemate, neither able to overcome the other.

Cain's eyes widened. Even his strongest technique was being countered by someone whom he had never met. This was a reality check. He was no longer in the Everstrife Empyrean World. Here, in the Crimson World, he was no longer at the top of the food chain.

And things only worsened.

The seraph's left hand began to glow as well, a second black sun forming, ready to strike Cain from the flank.

Retreat was not an option. If Cain disengaged, the right hand would smash through his defenses and annihilate him. If he held position, the second strike would pierce him from the side. He had been lured into a trap. The enemy had concealed his full strength, feigning weakness, drawing Cain into false confidence.

But Cain Laurifer was not one to fall quietly.

His scarlet eyes flared, blazing with lethal resolve. Within them appeared the image of a phantom scythe—a weapon of annihilation, carrying the essence of death refined to its purest, most merciless form.

Reaper's Touch.

The Sky Devourer pulsed with new power as that aura of total negation flooded through it. The fallen seraph's eyes, moments ago gleaming with the certainty of victory, flickered with shock. The blade's edge cut through his defenses, bypassing his dark suns, and descended with merciless precision.

"—Tch!"

Scarlet light tore through flesh and bone. With a deafening slash, Cain severed the seraph's right hand and forearm in a single devastating stroke.

A howl of agony erupted from the creature. The stalemate shattered, his stance broken, leaving him vulnerable.

Cain wasted no time. His killing intent erupted like a volcanic storm. He struck again, and again, and again. Sky Devourer carved a bloody path across the seraph's chest, splitting armor-like flesh, then through his shoulders, and finally toward his throat.

But the fallen seraph was no ordinary foe. His body was monstrous, forged from something beyond divine flesh. The neck—where weakness should have been—was instead one of his strongest points. Sky Devourer bit deep, but the head refused to sever.

Cain snarled, refusing to relent. His flames intensified, devouring everything, and he pressed on, hacking mercilessly. Blow after blow rained down until, at last, he gathered every ember, every fragment of momentum into a final strike.

"Scarlet Inferno—Collapse!"

His slash detonated, engulfing the fallen seraph in an ocean of scarlet fire. The void itself screamed as the flames expanded outward, swallowing the figure whole and blasting him across the battlefield.

"Serak!"

The goddess of lightning cried out, shock and fear piercing her voice as she saw her companion vanish into the inferno.

But her fear was short-lived.

The ocean of flames ruptured.

With a roar that split the void, the fallen seraph—Serak—burst free. His right hand was mangled, his body covered in gashes, his black flesh torn and burning with wounds that refused to heal. Scarlet fire and corrosive dark energy clung to him like leeches, festering and weakening his strength by the second.

But he was far from defeated.

Serak's eyes locked on Cain, and in them blazed not pain, not hesitation—only murderous intent. It radiated from him like a sun, suffocating, unrelenting.

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