Lightning struck where he'd been standing a fraction of a second earlier. Ice shards stabbed through empty air. Binding spells wrapped around nothing.

And while dodging everything thrown at him, The Reaper counterattacked.

His sword moved in arcs that seemed almost lazy, but each cut found a target. Not killing blows—he was deliberately pulling his strikes—but disabling ones. A wing shredded, forcing a succubus to crash-land. A leg slashed, dropping a warrior to the ground. An arm cut, making a mage drop their staff.

Within thirty seconds, half the first wave was down. Not dead, but out of the fight.

"Fire magic," The Reaper said conversationally as he casually sidestepped another barrage. "Lightning. Ice. Binding curses. Pretty standard elemental suite. Let me show you how it's really done."

He raised his hand, and fire erupted from his palm—not normal fire, but flames identical to what the demon mages had been using. Except stronger. More controlled. Perfect in execution.

The fire washed over three attacking warriors, and they screamed as their own element was used against them.

"Adapted," The Reaper explained unnecessarily. "Your fire magic is now my fire magic. But better, because I've been collecting fire techniques for three hundred years. Thanks for the warm-up."

He gestured again, and lightning arced from his fingers—the exact same spell one of the mages had used, but amplified. It chained between multiple targets, dropping them instantly.

"Lightning too. This is fun. What else you got?"

The first wave tried to regroup, tried to coordinate a retreat, but The Reaper was already moving through them like a force of nature. Not cruel or sadistic—just efficient. Methodical. Each movement served a purpose. Each strike was precise. No wasted motion. No unnecessary violence.

He wasn't fighting them so much as dismantling them.

A succubus dove at him from above, claws extended. The Reaper caught her wrist mid-strike, used her momentum to spin her around, and sent her crashing into two of her allies. All three went down in a tangle of wings and limbs.

"Nice try," he said cheerfully. "But I've fought dragons with better aerial tactics."

An orc warrior—one of the few male fighters in Seraphine's forces—charged with a massive warhammer. The Reaper didn't dodge. He caught the hammer with one hand, stopping the charge dead. The orc's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Good power behind that swing," The Reaper observed. "Unfortunately, I've adapted to kinetic force about ten thousand times. Your strength is cute, though."

He yanked the hammer away, then tapped the orc gently on the forehead with one finger. The warrior collapsed, unconscious from the precisely applied force that had rattled his brain without causing permanent damage.

The first wave was breaking. Warriors who'd trained for centuries, who'd faced countless battles, were being taken apart by one person who wasn't even trying hard. They could see it in his posture—relaxed, almost bored. This wasn't a challenge for him. It was barely a warm-up.

"Fall back!" Veronica's voice rang across the battlefield. "First wave retreat! Second wave, engage!"

The surviving members of the first wave fled, dragging wounded comrades with them. In less than three minutes, The Reaper had disabled or defeated over a hundred warriors without killing a single one.

And he looked disappointed.

"That's it?" he called out. "Come on, that was just getting started! Send me something challenging!"

The second wave emerged—three hundred warriors, all veteran fighters, all with specialized abilities meant to counter different enemy types. They spread out, using the vertical terrain of the Fallen Spires to attack from multiple elevations simultaneously.

The Reaper yawned.

"Okay, this is better. More numbers. Different tactics. I can work with this."

What followed was carnage disguised as casual exercise.

The Reaper moved through the second wave like someone taking a leisurely stroll through a park, except the "park" was filled with warriors trying to kill him. He'd dodge an attack, absorb the technique, and then use it against someone else. He'd adapt to a magical ability and immediately demonstrate superior mastery of it.

A mage hit him with a disintegration curse—rare dark magic that should have aged him rapidly. The Reaper felt it take effect for perhaps two seconds, then his body adapted. The aging reversed, and then he pointed at the mage. The same curse, but stronger, turned the attacker to dust before they could scream.

"Oh," The Reaper said, sounding actually regretful. "That one was lethal. Sorry. Should have pulled that more. But disintegration magic is tricky—it's binary. Either it works or it doesn't."

He continued walking toward the central spire, and the second wave desperately tried to stop him. They threw everything—weapons, magic, their own bodies—at this unstoppable force.

Nothing worked.

A coordinated assault from ten elite warriors, all attacking in perfect sync with attacks designed to have no gaps, no openings. The Reaper moved through it like the attacks weren't there, his body flowing around strikes with impossible grace.

"Nice coordination," he complimented even as he disabled all ten in rapid succession. "You guys actually trained together. I can tell. But unfortunately, I've fought coordinated assault teams before. Once you've seen the pattern, it's easy to counter."

A succubus managed to land a corruption spell—Seraphine's specialty, designed to bind the target's will. For a moment, The Reaper's movements slowed. The corruption was taking hold.

Then he adapted.

"Interesting," The Reaper said, his movements returning to normal as the corruption was purged and then absorbed. "Corruption magic. That's new. Well, newer than most things. Let's see..."

His eyes glowed with the same corrupted energy, and when he looked at the succubus who'd attacked him, she immediately fell to her knees, bound by her own power returned tenfold.

"Yeah, that's nasty," The Reaper observed. "No wonder Seraphine has such a reputation. This stuff is genuinely hard to resist if you're not ready for it. Too bad I'm ready for everything now."

The second wave was falling apart. They'd thrown their best attacks, their most creative strategies, their most powerful magic. All of it had just made The Reaper stronger, given him more tools, expanded his already impossible arsenal.

Veronica screamed the retreat order, and the second wave fled with even heavier casualties than the first.

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