Uriel staggered on unsteady feet, only to be met with another unrelenting assault from Asmodiel. A blazing knee, engulfed in searing flame, slammed into his jaw, lifting him from the ground.

  Asmodiel, sharp-eyed and calculating, had already unravelled Uriel’s secret: the ability to execute techniques even with burnt-out mana circuits. Uriel had been extracting the residual heat from his damaged circuits, converting it into raw, destructive force. Now, Asmodiel—having analysed and memorised Uriel’s movements—was replicating it. He had entered the zone, seamlessly mimicking Uriel’s innovation.

  Blood sprayed from Uriel’s mouth, a crimson testament to the ferocity of the blow. Asmodiel followed up with a right hook which flashed gold as it landed, snapping Uriel’s head back and sending him crashing into the cage.

  The metal groaned on impact. No sooner had Uriel rebounded than another blow—again imbued with [Divine Flash]—collided with his chest, destroying it and hurling him back into the cage once more.

  The brutal barrage didn’t stop. Every strike, sharpened by [Divine Flash], hammered into Uriel.

  Jophiel, once confident in Uriel’s victory, stood frozen in disbelief.

  “How is he doing this?” Adriel asked, voice tinged with awe and concern.

  “He’s in the zone,” Fafniel replied grimly.

  “But why now?” Jophiel asked, shielding her eyes from the savage display.

  Fafniel hesitated. “Probably... a heavenly pact.”

  “It is,” Samael confirmed. “A pact that prevented Uriel from entering the zone unless Asmodiel activated his own Divine Territory. Now, Asmodiel’s zone vastly eclipses Uriel’s.”

  “The way he moves,” Samael added, admiration slipping into his voice, “it's as if he knows every counter his opponent will use—without future sight or omniscience. Impressive.”

  As the onslaught continued, Asmodiel noticed something troubling—Uriel’s soul was healing. Instinct, he surmised.

  The only way to halt that regeneration was to exhaust Uriel’s mana completely. So, he kept hammering him with blows, each flashing gold as they landed.

  One particularly vicious strike connected with Uriel’s skull, slamming him into the cage again. But Uriel—bloodied, dazed, and stubborn—used the rebound to launch a desperate counterattack. Asmodiel saw it coming, gracefully dodged, and countered with another divine flash.

  Yet just as it was about to land, Asmodiel grimaced.

  The toll of repeated divine flashes and the lingering heat he’d removed from his mana circuits now backfired. The pain was sharp and sudden. His precision wavered—he missed the divine flash timing, delivering a normal punch instead.

  Uriel blocked the punch, barely, though the impact sent him sliding across the arena floor.

  “Tch... I missed,” Asmodiel muttered, frustration creasing his brow. “Would’ve ended it right there. Lady luck must be on your side.”

  Uriel coughed blood, now kneeling. His soul trembled under the accumulated damage. Bruises marked his face and chest, his mana all but depleted.

  Asmodiel grinned, cruel and confident. “Give up. You’re done. One more hit and you’re finished. You can’t even stand straight. So tell me—what now?”

  The question echoed in Uriel’s mind. Doubt crept in.

  But he shook it off. I can’t lose. Not to an angel general. Not after everything... Master would never forgive me. With a grunt of effort, he rose, slouched, gasping, soul battered, but eyes burning with resolve.

  “Oh? Still standing?” Asmodiel asked, irritation creeping into his voice. “Fine. I’ll end this.”

  He shifted into a stance, ready to strike.

  I have no choice… I’ll use it—and win.

  The holy symbol flickered in Uriel’s eyes.

  As Asmodiel lunged, a flash of agony pierced his chest. He looked down—Uriel’s hand was embedded in him.

  Gasps echoed from the crowd. Uriel had vanished from sight, reappearing behind Asmodiel.

  “I hate using this,” Uriel muttered, his voice quiet, almost remorseful. “Feels like cheating.”

  Asmodiel coughed blood, stunned. “H-how did y-you—?”

  “I erased when I got pummelled,” Uriel answered calmly. “It restored my mana.”

  Jophiel’s jaw dropped. “Wait... he can do that?”

  “Apparently so,” Fafniel replied, still processing.

  “But how?” Adriel asked, all eyes turning to Samael.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “It’s simple,” Samael explained. “He sees everything with his omniscience. With [Genesis Reversal], he deletes the ones he doesn’t like.”

  The members of Dead End exchanged impressed looks.

  So, he had this hidden card all along? Fafniel thought, a grin tugging at his lips. He didn’t even use it against me. How insulting.

  Asmodiel, overhearing their talk, gave a breathless laugh. “What a cheat indeed… but I’m not done yet.”

  He grabbed Uriel’s hand, but flames erupted, burning his arm. Asmodiel screamed in agony.

  Uriel hurled him across the arena. Asmodiel slammed into the cage, collapsed, and didn’t rise. Flames licked his soul.

  The crowd erupted in cheers. Jophiel, ecstatic, raised her arms in triumph.

  But the celebration was short-lived.

  The flames died.

  Asmodiel rose, soul steaming, wounds sealing. “Did you think that would be enough?” he growled, stepping forward. “You’ll have to do better.”

  He assumed his fighting stance.

  Uriel, unfazed, pointed at his nose. “Yeah, I figured that wasn’t enough… but then there’s that.”

  A single drop of blood slid from Asmodiel’s nose.

  He dropped to one knee.

  Whaaat... is… go-going… o-nn…? he thought, dazed.

  “What’s wrong?” Uriel asked, mock concern in his voice. “Finding it hard to think?”

  “W-what… did… you do… t-to me?”

  “Nothing,” Uriel shrugged. “You fried your brain with all that mana output. Even with your buffed circuits, there’s still a limit.”

  The match was nearing its end.

  Uriel stood tall, refusing to gloat, though his breaths were heavy. The crowd watched in stunned awe.

  Jophiel breathed a sigh of relief, knowing Uriel’s victory was secure.

  Asmodiel collapsed again, mind fading to black—but a glimmer of light ignited within him. I have to clear my family name.

  Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the pain. To Uriel’s shock, Asmodiel stood once more.

  What is this feeling? Uriel thought. If I don’t end it now… I might actually lose.

  The angels looked on, afraid. The hunter was about to be hunted by his prey.

  The conditions are met for me to use my ace in the hole. Asmodiel grins as Uriel is seconds away from landing a blow on him.

  The world froze.

  They were pulled back to the moment Uriel pierced Asmodiel’s chest.

  What—what just happened? Uriel blinked, disoriented.

  “You showed me your ace,” Asmodiel said, grabbing Uriel’s wrist. “Now it’s my turn.”

  Uriel’s eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll just burn you again—”

  But it didn’t work.

  “I almost forgot,” Asmodiel said. “This heavenly pact ensures a draw. I hate it… But you’ve left me no choice.”

  Asmodiel flexes every muscle and concentrates fully.

  What’s happening, I can’t move a muscle. Uriel tries to pull his hand from Asmodiel’s chest.

  As Asmodiel activates his technique, their souls begin to dissolve into particles.

  The world faded to black.

  Then light returned.

  The fight began anew.

  Asmodiel collapsed to his knees, coughing blood. Uriel stood frozen, then began to tremble. Blood flowed from his eyes, mouth, and nose. He dropped.

  Both lay unconscious.

  As their thunderous battle reached its end, elsewhere, in the third layer of Duadel, Azazel sat atop his obsidian throne. Tendrils of black energy coiled from his soul, slithering through the shadows and connecting to his fallen angel generals and nobles. Each connection pulsed with corrupted power—raw energy siphoned from the Power Stone.

  “Soon, my army will crush you, Samael.” Azazel grinned.

  The energy radiated across Duadel, empowering every single fallen angel.

  Their eyes glowed purple as the energy coursed through them.

  Meanwhile, in Heaven.

  The cage dematerialised, the battlefield settling after the brutal clash between Uriel and Asmodiel.

  Samael stood before them, arms crossed. “Good job, Asmodiel. But since you didn’t win… You can’t join Dead End.”

  Asmodiel’s eyes widened. “What? My Lord, I drew with Number One. Surely, I deserve a spot.”

  Samael's tone remained cold. “I said whoever wins replaces a member of Dead End. That was the only condition. Try harder next time.”

  Asmodiel clenched his fists. Frustration simmered in his aura, and that alone brought a wide grin to Jophiel’s face.

  “Sorry,” she said sweetly, “but rules are rules.”

  Asmodiel scoffed, stepping forward. “You know what? I drew with the strongest among you. That means I’m stronger than you. Let that sink in. The only reason I’m not in Dead End is because I didn’t feel like embarrassing you.”

  “Damn you—!”

  “Lord Samael,” Uriel interrupted, stepping forward. “I would like to use one of our lives… to let Asmodiel join us.”

  Jophiel’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  Samael’s smirk returned. “Oh? Are you sure about that, Uriel?”

  Just as I predicted, Samael thought. Asmodiel will be a fine addition to the team. With proper training, he might become one of the strongest in Dead End.

  His eyes flashed red. He will be one of my greatest soldiers. His smirk widened.

  “Yes, Master,” Uriel said. “I hate to admit it… But he is my equal. If I deserve to be in Dead End, then so does he.”

  Jophiel’s eye twitched. Rage churned behind her calm mask.

  Samael turned to the others. “What do the rest of you think?”

  “I agree with Uriel,” said Fafniel.

  Jophiel raised an eyebrow. “You too?”

  Her shock mirrored that of the others.

  “If he’s stronger than our weakest member, then he deserves a spot. And if we’re rejecting him… we might as well kick Gabriele out.” Fafnir continued.

  Samael nodded. “Adriel?”

  “I’m with Uriel. He drew with our strongest. If he doesn’t deserve to be here, then none of us do.”

  Gabriele stepped up. “His combat prowess is exceptional, and he hasn’t even trained under you yet, my Lord. His potential is unreal. I support his inclusion.”

  Samael smiled. “Those were wonderful reasons.”

  He looked at Jophiel. “I already know your answer, but everyone else has decided. So, it’s settled—Asmodiel will join Dead End.”

  Jophiel stepped forward, eyes narrowed. “That’s not right. You can’t just change the rules because everyone wants you to.”

  Samael chuckled. “No, no, no—you don’t get to say that. You begged me to give Adriel another chance. You can’t expect me to bend the rules only when it benefits you. That’s selfish.”

  Jophiel’s glare burned into him. Damn it… he got me. She clenched her jaw. “Fine. Let Asmodiel join,” she said, forcing a smile.

  Samael turned. “Very well, Asmodiel. Welcome to Dead End. Congratulations.”

  As the angels celebrate Asmodiel’s inclusion, Jophiel approached Samael with measured steps.

  “Good one,” she said. “You let me bend your rules so I’d have no excuses when this happened. Clever.”

  “I told you you’d regret reinstating Adriel,” Samael replied calmly. “You should’ve seen this coming. Also… I understand why you’re angry. He hurt your friend. But that was a long time ago. You need to let it go.”

  Jophiel gave a dry laugh. “The Fallen Angel Killer telling me to forgive someone who wronged me? Don’t make me laugh.”

  She turned to leave.

  “That’s different, and you know it,” Samael mumbled.

  After the celebrations died down, Samael looked out at the crowd.

  They all looked at him, waiting for the next announcement.