The Evil God's expression twisted with fury.

Dark miasma began gathering around him, swirling into his wounds, knitting flesh back together.

"He's trying to recover!" Sun Lihua shouted. "Don't let him!"

The sect masters charged.

But before they could close the distance, an overwhelming aura descended upon them. It was like the sky itself had collapsed. Their bodies slammed into the ground, pressed flat by an invisible force.

Even Zhao Long's massive dragon form crashed down, his claws digging trenches in the earth as he struggled to rise.

"How dare you weaklings touch me," the Evil God roared.

The dark miasma continued flowing into his body. His wounds sealed. His charred skin regenerated. In seconds, he looked as though he had never been injured at all.

But he wasn't done.

Below, Dante crushed another demon's skull - and then it dissolved.

The creature's body broke apart into dark miasma and streamed upward, flowing toward the Evil God.

He looked around him in confusion.

All around him, the same thing was happening. Demons he had been fighting moments ago liquefied into darkness and flew into the sky.

Selene watched the demon she had just punched disintegrate before her eyes. "They're... retreating?"

"No," Ryker said, his face grim. "They're being absorbed."

Li Chen looked up at the massive column of miasma converging on the Evil God. "This doesn't look good."

Even the Demon Lords Lyra had been fighting dissolved.

Mid-swing, her blade passed through empty air as her opponent's body broke apart into miasma and shot toward the sky.

She watched it go, eyes narrowing.

All the miasma - every last wisp from every demon on the battlefield - converged around the Evil God.

It swirled around him like a hurricane, thickening, condensing, pouring into his body. His body began to expand. His muscles bulged. His height doubled, then tripled.

The runes across his skin blazed with crimson light as his aura skyrocketed.

The sect masters could do nothing but watch from where they lay pinned to the ground.

When the transformation completed, the Evil God stood as a titan.

He gazed down at the sect masters.

An even greater aura pressed down.

The ground beneath them cracked. Zhao Long's dragon form was smashed flat, scales cracking under the pressure. The others couldn't even scream - the weight on their chests forced all air from their lungs.

…

From above, Maya looked at the Evil God.

The clock in her eye began spinning faster and faster.

The Evil God seemed to stop.

Maya extended her hand…

And then she paused.

The Evil God... he was gone.

In that instant, he had vanished from her sight.

Where…

A massive fist filled her vision.

She couldn't react. Couldn't move. Couldn't even process what was happening.

Then Lyra appeared.

She materialized directly in front of Maya, catching the Evil God's attack with her sword. The impact created a shockwave that tore the clouds apart.

Maya's eyes went wide. She hadn't even noticed him move.

Lyra's arms trembled as she held back the blow. H

"Fall back," she said through gritted teeth.

Maya didn't wait. She turned and retreated immediately.

Lyra's eyes met the Evil God's.

"Outsider," his voice rumbled. "You don't belong here."

"I could say the same thing about you," she replied.

The Evil God applied more strength.

Lyra's guard shattered. The force overwhelmed her completely, sending her flying like a ragdoll. She flipped through the air - once, twice, three times - before finally angling her body toward the ground.

She stabbed her sword into the earth to slow herself, digging deep grooves that stretched for dozens of meters before she finally came to a stop.

She looked up.

The Evil God was nowhere to be seen.

She moved her sword to the side, blocking at the last possible second.

The impact sent her flying again. She crashed through a rock formation, tumbled across the ground, and slammed into a cliff face hard enough to crack it.

She got up.

The Evil God was already on her.

Lyra ducked under the Evil God's massive fist that pulverized the cliff behind her. She retaliated with a slash across his forearm - the wound healed before she could follow up.

He swung again. She leaped over it, using his arm as a springboard to launch herself at his face. Her blade carved a line across his cheek.

He caught her with a backhand that sent her crashing through three hills.

She emerged from the rubble already moving, circling around him, looking for openings that barely existed.

He was faster than her. Stronger than her. His regeneration made every wound meaningless.

But she was still alive.

Every killing blow missed by inches. Every overwhelming attack was redirected just enough. She twisted, dodged, parried - her body moving on pure instinct honed over years of combat.

The terrain around them was unrecognizable. Craters dotted the landscape. Mountains had been reduced to rubble. Rivers had changed course.

And still…she fought.

…

Lyra floated across from the Evil God, breathing heavily.

Blood dripped from a dozen wounds. Her robes were torn. Her arms ached from blocking attacks that should have killed her.

"You're strong, outsider," the Evil God said.

Lyra sighed.

Then she sheathed her sword.

The Evil God paused, tilting his head. "Are you about to give up?"

She gripped the handle and pulled - but only a small part of the blade emerged from the sheath.

"I guess not," the Evil God said.

But she remained still.

Her breathing grew heavy. Sweat beaded on her forehead, then began pouring down her face. Her skin started showing cracks, thin lines of light appearing along her arms and neck.

She held the sword there - just slightly outside the sheath - her hand trembling.

Then... she pushed it back in completely.

"Aren't you going to make your move?" the Evil God asked.

She exhaled slowly.

"Second Sword."

…

From the Evil God's perspective, the world changed.

No - it wasn't that she wasn't going to make her move.

It was that she already had.

He found himself standing in an endless void filled with blades. Swords stretched in every direction - above, below, left, right, forward, back. Millions of them. Billions. An infinite armory pointing directly at him.

There was no room to dodge.

No space to escape.

The swords moved.

All at once, from every direction, they converged on him.

He tried to regenerate, but the swords cut faster.

He tried to release his aura, but the swords cut deeper.

He tried to scream, but the swords silenced him.

…

In the real world, the sect masters watched in disbelief.

The Evil God stood frozen in place.

Then invisible blades began cutting him apart.

Thousands of wounds appeared across his massive body simultaneously - slashes, gashes, deep cuts that sprayed black blood in every direction. His flesh was carved away layer by layer.

His titan form couldn't sustain the damage.

He began shrinking. His overwhelming aura flickered and faded. His body collapsed inward, compacting, diminishing, until what remained was merely human-sized.

He fell from the sky and hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Across the battlefield, Lyra's eyes rolled back.

Her body went limp and she began falling.

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