Chapter 18- Soirée Incident PT.9

Azazel stood, momentarily lost in thought, as Malachi and Deon exchanged tense glances. Then, a wicked grin spread across his face.

"So, mankind hasn't grown weaker over the years," he mused with a dark thrill. "Good. At least I'll have a bit of sport before I devour your souls and achieve omniscience."

Deon thrust his sickle at Azazel, but the demon caught it effortlessly.

As Deon staggered from Azazel's punch to his gut, Malachi grabbed the sickle, slicing through Azazel's palm and spilling black blood that hissed upon touching the ground.

Malachi swung again, but Azazel ducked beneath, his tail carving a deep gouge in the earth as it missed Malachi by inches.

Deon intercepted the tail just in time, a silvery light flaring in his other hand as he formed a luminous lunar javelin.

He hurled it at Azazel, and the ensuing explosion tore through the battlefield, shattering stone and raining debris.

Black blood spattered from the blast, leaving a smoldering crater in Azazel's wake.The force of the extraction was so great it cleanly severed Azazel's hand at the wrist.

As the smoke from the blast cleared, Deon waved it away. The sickle in Malachi's hand crackled, sending silver streams toward Deon. "Is he dead?" Malachi asked, tense with anticipation. Deon sucked his teeth. "It's gonna take us and Christ himself to win this," he replied grimly.

Malachi's body surged with power as he muttered, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Just then, a shadow leapt from the crater—Azazel landed before them with a fearsome snarl.

With a swift motion, Deon's hand conjured a radiant string, transforming into a sling that gleamed with an otherworldly light.

He launched the glowing orbs at Azazel, and as they struck, they burst into a swirling maelstrom, enveloping the demon in a mesmerizing storm of sparkling particles. "Go!" Deon shouted, his voice cutting through the luminescent chaos as he signaled Malachi into action.

Malachi charged through the whirling dust, landing powerful blows on the demon.

Each strike sent shockwaves of pain through Azazel, who struggled to catch Malachi.

Roaring, Azazel stomped the ground, sending a shockwave that blasted both the dust and Malachi away.

The earth cracked under the impact as Malachi was flung backward, crashing into the rear windshield of a car.

"Mal, you good?" Deon yelled. Malachi rolled off the car, looking dazed but determined. "What is he doing?" he asked, eyes fixed on Azazel's next move.

Azazel knelt, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Malachi and Deon exchanged anxious glances. "I owe you an apology," Azazel said, his tone unexpectedly soft. "I took you too lightly. I should've known better—you're Shaka's, after all." His words carried a weight that lingered in the air.

He raised his hand, pointing towards the night sky. The ground cracked loudly beneath them; fissures branched across the asphalt.

Malachi and Deon wavered, struggling to regain their balance. In an instant, Deon shimmered into view beside Malachi, a sudden burst of moonlit brilliance enveloping them both.

Gripping Malachi's arm, Deon whisked them across the battlefield in the blink of an eye, materializing at Maxwell's side. Maxwell's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding, "Brace yourselves."

From the earth's wounds, thermal energy surged upwards like a fiery river, coalescing into a blazing supernova—a furious orb of blue-white fire against the night. It pulsed with terrifying power, cars melting like wax and buildings aflame, heat unbearable and all-consuming.

Despite the inferno, Maxwell's healing held, though strained. Clothes ignited but burns healed instantly.

Malachi shielded his face, clothing reduced to ash. Deon's steady grip reassured them. "Ready for a dip?" he whispered above the chaos.

Maxwell, disoriented, blinked. "Huh?"

""We're teleporting to the ocean," Deon murmured urgently. "This force will erase Jamaica from the map."

Flames twirled on the hotel roof, illuminating Miguel—a beacon of hope. Seeing him, Malachi's heart swelled with relief.

Maxwell exhaled softly, a smile spreading across his face. "God is really on your side. Welcome back, man," he said warmly.

Azazel traced the sky with a grim smile. "You're alive… what a complication."

Miguel descended through the night sky, a mesmerizing figure against the darkness, as he absorbed the blue flames.

A brilliant azure light trailed him like a celestial flare, casting a shimmering aura before he met the earth with a resounding embrace.

Energy radiated around Malachi, his spirit alight with wonder as the darkness was transformed by Miguel's presence.

Maxwell stood among them, an aura of quiet confidence illuminating his presence. Turning to Deon, he spoke with a gentle certainty.

"I'm about to attempt the greatest amplification and healing I've ever done."

Deon, apprehension shadowing his voice, asked, "Is it …safe?"

Maxwell's calm smile lingered. "No, it might fry my mind. But it's worth it."

As his eyes fluttered closed, Maxwell focused, the delicate lines around them multiplying into radiant purple patterns that glowed softly across the parking lot.

He interlocked his hands upside down, his focus unyielding. "Quantum entanglement," he announced firmly. He made a decisive adjustment, continuing, "Let's extend the reach—700 feet in front of me."

Upon his utterance, violet lines emerged, flowing seamlessly over his body and cascading to the ground below.

These lines unfurled across the parking lot, creating an elaborate lattice of interconnected dots and strands.

As they stretched outward, they formed a complex network, all connected except for a clear boundary that parted around Azazel, avoiding him entirely.

In this moment of enchanted warmth, Malachi felt a profound surge within him.

Yet, mingling with the newfound strength, a realization blossomed—a quiet acknowledgment of his own frailty compared to their power.

Even as the warmth infused him, Malachi's thoughts danced between admiration and a yearning to grasp the strength they wielded so effortlessly.

Nevertheless, nestled within the radiant glow of Maxwell's selfless act was the promise of growth—a hope that he too could one day harness such enchanting power.

To be continued…