The Abyssal Flames—black fire that was capable of devouring not just flesh but the very essence of existence—flickered uselessly, unable to consume.

  The Molten Veins—rivers of liquid fury coursing through his body, each pulse meant to unleash destruction hot enough to turn mountains to slag—ran cold, their power failing him at the moment he needed it most.

  Both should have made Azrikal unstoppable. Both should have reduced his foe to ashes—yet, they failed him. And for the first time in a long time, frustration burned hotter than his own flames.

  Why? Why? Why wasn't it working? Confusion clouded his mind.

  David, though cautious, could sense the shift. His opponent, the monstrous warrior who had once rampaged through battlefields, was struggling.

  It wasn’t weakness—Azrikal’s power still crackled in the air, his presence still domineering. But something unseen gnawed at him, dulling his blade, slowing his advance.

  David wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.

  David lunged forward. His footwork was precise, slipping into the gaps of Azrikal’s faltering defense. He struck—a sharp blow to the ribs, just beneath the plating of his armor.

  No damage, no pain, but Azrikal staggered.

  But David capitalized on it, sidestepping and delivering a fierce palm strike to Azrikal’s shoulder, sending him stumbling back.

  Azrikal’s eyes blazed with fury. With a snarl, he retaliated, his claw sweeping toward David’s throat.

  Too slanted.

  David weaved past it, stepping into Azrikal’s guard. He raised his knee, ramming it into his opponent’s gut.

  The impact echoed, yet it lacked the satisfying recoil—Azrikal was tougher than steel, his body built for battle. He lagged only in his powers; his body was still the same.

  From the sidelines, Zephiron remained still, his silver eyes glinting with quiet calculation. If he wanted, he could interfere—but not yet.

  If he were to join them, the battle would end in an instant—it was that easy for him.

  After all, this was his disciple—it was his test, a lesson which he needed to overcome on his own. And if he couldn't, then he was of no use to him.

  If Azrikal failed to crush this anomaly before him, then he was not yet worthy.

  And Zephiron had no intention of intervening—until something caught his attention.

  A disturbance. A flicker. A pulse of something unseen.

  His gaze sharpened.

  Something was rising from the Azurefrost Shard in his possession, as thin as a thread itself—an invisible force, a tether, leading toward Azrikal. No—covering Azrikal, winding around his body in multiple chains.

  Its pulse was weak, barely perceptible, yet… the energy it emitted was not random. It was coiling.

  Not around David.

  Around Azrikal.

  Zephiron’s lips pressed into a thin line. So that was the reason.

  It was something only he could have perceived—not Azrikal, not David, only him.

  Azrikal had touched the Azurefrost Shard and lost control, consumed by its overwhelming force. But when it rejected him, Zephiron had stabilized it in his possession.

  Yet… it hadn't detached completely.

  The Shard’s influence had not yet faded completely. Even though it was no longer in Azrikal’s possession, it still clung to him like a parasite, disrupting his instincts, dulling his precision. His Abyssal Flames, his blade—everything was still bound.

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  Zephiron's lips curled into a smirk.

  "To think, with all my knowledge of the Shard, I still didn’t know it could do this…"

  After concluding his observation, his eyes flicked back to the battlefield, where Azrikal was once again attempting to overpower David—yet failing.

  It was time to step in.

  "Azrikal." Zephiron’s voice rippled through—firm and unyielding, demanding attention.

  Azrikal didn’t look at him. "Not now, Master," he growled, abyssal flames surging wildly.

  Zephiron’s expression remained unreadable. "You have noticed it, haven’t you?"

  Azrikal’s grip tightened around his blade, his molten fingers twitching.

  Zephiron continued. "Your body is resisting you. Your strikes lack their weight. You are fighting against something unseen."

  Azrikal let out a low snarl. "What are you saying, Master?"

  "It's the Azurefrost Shard. It is still holding onto you—binding you in invisible chains."

  Azrikal halted mid-swing, barely dodging David's counterattack as he turned sharply toward his master. His breath was ragged, his fury barely contained. "What?!"

  Zephiron’s gaze was impassive. "You're not struggling because David is stronger, nor because you are weak."

  Azrikal’s eyes burned with defiance. "Impossible. It is no longer in my possession."

  Zephiron gave a quiet, knowing look. "And yet, here you are, still shackled." He pointed toward the Azurefrost Shard in his hands. "The Shard’s influence lingers, coiling around you like invisible chains. It suppresses you, dulls you, makes you less."

  For a moment, silence.

  Then—Azrikal’s rage twisted into something colder. His fingers curled into fists, his claws digging into his palms. If that was the case… then how was he supposed to fight?!

  His eyes snapped to Zephiron, burning with frustration. “Then what should I do now, Master?”

  Zephiron stepped forward, his tone as steady as ever. "My disciple, despite all our knowledge of the Shard, I neglected to detect its true nature. It makes me question the essence of all the Shards."

  He continued, "But now that I see what it's doing to you, fixing this will be simple."

  David tensed as he watched Zephiron raise his hand.

  The Azurefrost Shard, which had been nestled in Zephiron’s possession, suddenly began to float into the air. A faint hum resonated as Zephiron’s other hand traced delicate curls in the space around it.

  David, watching from a distance away, narrowed his eyes. The air rippled, bending like a warped reflection in water.

  Then—space itself twisted.

  In midair, a rift formed—a miniature portal, but… different.

  David’s breath hitched. The space within the portal wasn’t normal. It was a cube—a confined space, layered and complex, its edges shifting in impossible geometries.

  Without hesitation, Zephiron directed the fragment toward the cube. His actions were measured, each motion deliberate.

  He did not cast it in haste, nor did he discard it carelessly. Instead, he set it inside with the reverence of one sealing away a relic of untold power—secured, contained, and beyond reach.

  Now that he had guided the Azurefrost Shard into the cube, with a flick of his wrist, the miniature portal sealed shut, the Shard vanishing entirely.

  It bore a resemblance to his inventory, yet it was vastly different. This wasn’t the system’s doing, nor was it something as rudimentary as mere storage—it was something else entirely.

  David swallowed. "Is that his power...?" Zephiron hadn’t exerted force; he had simply… warped space, reshaping reality. It was effortless. Just how much more was he capable of?

  His fists clenched instinctively. If Zephiron could manipulate space so easily, then what chance did he stand if the man decided to join them in battle? The realization was unsettling.

  The Shard was gone.

  Zephiron turned back to Azrikal.

  "There. The link is gone. You should return to your previous condition."

  Azrikal clenched his fists.

  The weight. The sluggishness. The invisible chains.

  Azrikal clenched his fists again, testing, feeling. The weight of the Shard that had been pressing down on him—the unseen chains—had vanished. His Abyssal Flames roared to life once more, his power no longer restrained.

  David’s eyes narrowed.

  Azrikal rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a wicked grin.

  "Finally," he murmured, stepping forward. His aura flared—stronger, sharper, deadlier.

  David exhaled, steadying himself.

  Azrikal was back.

  And this time, he was going to devastate.

  Azrikal exhaled slowly, his stance now composed, his gaze locking onto David with newfound clarity.

  “You stand before a warrior who has walked the path of battle more times than he can count,” he said, his voice calm yet edged with steel. “I am a seeker of knowledge, and I have tested my strength against countless foes, always believing in sheer, unrelenting power.”

  His fingers tightened around his weapon as he continued.

  “I allowed myself to be blinded—by anger, by arrogance,” he admitted. “But that wasn’t entirely my failing. The Shard twisted my instincts, dulled my judgment. Even so… I was wrong about you.”

  Azrikal’s eyes burned with a flicker of respect, something rarely granted.

  “I dismissed your balance of light and darkness as weakness, believing only in the absolute force of power. But you stood against me—and proved otherwise.” His lips curled into a smirk. “So, allow me to honor you with what you’ve taught me.”

  He lifted his blade in one hand, Abyssal Flames licking hungrily at its edge like a living void. His other hand ignited in molten veins, rivers of liquid fire coursing beneath his skin.

  The two opposing forces crackled in eerie harmony, neither yielding to the other.

  "Come, let me show you the power of your own creation."