CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 648: Azaron Versus Zolthemir-2

Before Azaron had a chance to react, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor swung his scythe anew, unleashing a fresh burst of energy that carried a bone-chilling intensity this time, as he transformed the absorbed powers into refined pure ice energy, compressing it into a force that eclipsed any common elemental outburst.

The battlefield, once scorching hot and ablaze with searing heat, flipped in an instant into a massive expanse of razor-sharp ice formations, with frost conquering the area in horrifying waves while the air itself solidified into crystals.

Azaron observed the ice charging at him, his eyes calm and inscrutable; no warning was needed for him to recognize this ice's unnatural potency. As the assault expanded endlessly across kilometers, he merely snapped his fingers, and space around them froze solid in the blink of an eye, mimicking a time halt—though time pressed on undisturbed.

Azaron had seized utter control over the surrounding space, extending a thousand kilometers wide, stopping the attack dead in its tracks and binding it motionless, as if reality bowed to his unbreakable command.

Another finger snap, and space cracked apart with grotesque simplicity, erasing the ice energy—which could annihilate any life it touched— from existence with casual dominance. The void gaped wide and ravenous as space tore open, hungry to invade and swallow all creation, yet right then, space knit itself back together, sealing the abyss and preserving the delicate order.

The Emperor’s gaze sharpened, a uncommon spark of incredulity flashing in his eyes; he struggled to fathom how effortlessly Azaron countered his techniques. Any other Crownstar Life Ranker would have suffered dire wounds from that initial shockwave when his scythe clashed with Azaron’s spear, but Azaron had dismissed it as "weak."

Azaron had then nonchalantly redirected the plasma blast he’d absorbed, treating it like a mere annoyance, and now this existence-erasing ice energy had been utterly nullified by raw spatial mastery.

At the outset, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor assumed he matched Azaron evenly, their strengths balanced in colossal might, but the scenes unfolding before him shattered that notion, exposing a much grimmer reality.

Before Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor could blink, Azaron vanished the space between them as if it never was, materializing overhead with alarming speed, Ender already arcing toward the Emperor’s throat in a precise, deadly spear thrust.

Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor’s awareness surged, his senses stretching out as the world crawled to a halt around him, colors draining into a fuzzy haze, all while he bolstered himself with Astra energy. Doubt fled him now; it was obvious that rivaling Azaron Wargrave in raw physical prowess lay beyond reach.

Astra energy propelled his speed, power, and perception to utmost extremes, allowing Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor to finally register the spear nearing his neck; without pause, he whipped his scythe to intercept the strike directly. A shrill wail echoed as steel clashed against steel, orange sparks bursting in overwhelming cascades that lit the sky. Their impact rent the heavens neatly in two, the colossal force warping the firmament into chaos.

Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor pressed on without delay, blurring forward to slash at Azaron’s neck with savage purpose. Spotting the assault, Azaron parried it effortlessly using his spear’s shaft, as if sparring with a mere youth, his face impassive and his actions unhurried.

"Have you been on your throne for such a long time that you’ve forgotten how to fight?" Azaron questioned in a dull, nearly bored voice; though laced with cutting scorn, the words rang true, since Azaron never uttered barbs idly, particularly toward those he held no bond with.

Yet the reality wasn’t that Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor had lost his battle prowess, but that Azaron towered too monstrously above him, so vastly superior that even this energy-wielding colossus, absurdly mighty as he was, appeared utterly mundane by contrast.

Just as the Emperor prepared to reply, space around him locked solid, reality binding him immobile, and before he could grasp the situation, an enormous fist dominated his view, swelling larger with every inch it approached, bearing the promise of excruciating pain.

Azaron’s fist crashed into the Emperor’s face with world-shattering power. The instant it struck, he freed his control over space. Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor’s head whipped back with explosive momentum, his neck bending perilously close to snapping, and moments later, he hurtled downward from the heavens, his form turning into a fiery comet that smashed into the ground below with cataclysmic force, ripping open a colossal crater that widened and plunged ever deeper as his body burrowed through the earth like it aimed for Crymora’s core.

Yet Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor showed no delay; he leaped up at once and vanished from the crater’s depths. No sooner had he gone than a crimson blur—Ender—plummeted like heavenly lightning, pulverizing the spot he’d just left, demolishing all in its trajectory.

Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor materialized elsewhere, his thoughts spinning wildly as he registered the hair’s-breadth evasion; he knew without doubt that missing that strike would have left him severely wounded. His mind whirled nonstop, baffled by Azaron’s overwhelming might; even after infusing his body with Astra energy and straining to his absolute limits, he couldn’t rival him. And deepest down, he recognized the harsh fact: Azaron wasn’t unleashing full power.

‘This is why I’ve always wanted to erase this bloodline,’ Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor reflected inwardly, but he refused to stand still. Astra energy exploded fiercely from his frame as he summoned a new energy type, now as lightning. The battlefield morphed in a flash into a furious tempest, devastating beams of light hurtling from above with destructive fury, engulfing hundreds of kilometers in chaos, every strike homing in on Azaron with horrifying velocity and accuracy.

Any spectator beholding that spectacle would swear an Eldritch horror had invaded the realm; the colossal power display, the total annihilation, the staggering energy needed to maintain it all proved utterly phenomenal, even measured against Crownstar Life Rank benchmarks.

Azaron neither pondered nor faltered; he marched straight into the maelstrom like its architect, not its prey. Scores of bolts hammered him, battering his armor with ruinous impact, but they achieved zilch; his unadorned body shrugged them off, each world-destroying flash that grazed him shattering into harmless lesser sparks, fading away as he pressed on undeterred.