The Seal Breaks

The floor no longer cracked.

It peeled.

Each time Asmodeus stepped forward, the stone beneath his feet didn't shatter—it melted. Threads of black flame crawled from his soles, trailing in erratic, seething patterns. They weren't chaotic. They were deliberate like veins, branching from a single, burning heart.

Mephisto moved to intercept.

The god's scythe carved through the air in a sweeping arc, no wind behind it—just silence and finality. Like a curtain being drawn across a stage before the death scene.

But this time—

It missed.

The axe struck first.

The edge didn't clash with the shaft. It crashed through it. The silver polearm screamed as steel folded, twisted, and snapped. The blow forced Mephisto back mid-swing, one hand raised in a warding gesture—too late.

Asmodeus followed.