The Clash Of Light And Shadow

The night was still young, filled with more terror and unsettling horrors yet to unfold. The collapse of the Pennsylvania Kingdom needed to be studied—it was a vast and powerful empire, yet in mere hours, it crumbled into chaos. And even now, the destruction was only beginning; it was far from over.

The battle between Mikael and Darius was reaching unimaginable levels of devastation, leaving everyone present horrified by the sheer force of their auras. The ground trembled beneath them, the sky darkened as though nature itself recoiled from their power.

Mikael wasted no time. In an instant, he raised his fist, channeling all his strength into a devastating punch aimed directly at Darius's face. The impact sent shockwaves through the battlefield, cracking the ground beneath them. But Darius didn't even flinch. He stood there, his expression unchanging as if Mikael's attack was nothing more than a gentle breeze. The sight left onlookers in disbelief—except for the soldiers, who seemed eerily unbothered, most likely manipulated by Darius's mind control. Even Lazarus and Amelia couldn't hide the horror in their eyes.

Determined, Mikael summoned his holy sword in a flash of golden light and swung it down upon Darius with lethal precision. The blade cleaved through him effortlessly, splitting his body in two. Blood gushed forth, splattering onto Lazarus's face like a crimson river. For a brief moment, silence engulfed the battlefield.

Then, in an instant, Darius regenerated—his body knitting itself back together faster than before. His white hair shimmered under the moonlight, his piercing red eyes glowing with an eerie intensity. Each regeneration made him stronger. Mikael gritted his teeth, sensing the shift in power.

From behind, Amelia's urgent voice cut through the tension. "Mikael, he can regenerate endlessly! He can transform into a vampire or demon at will! He can summon artifacts and weapons beyond our comprehension!"

Darius chuckled, his voice smooth yet filled with malice. "Listen to your sister, Mikael. She's wiser than you."

In a blink, Mikael lashed out again, attempting to decapitate him, but Darius sidestepped effortlessly. His movements were fluid, almost mocking.

"You still think you can beat me?" Darius sneered. "Fool. Humans can never defeat me. You don't even come close."

Before Mikael could react, Darius struck. His fist connected with Mikael's chin, launching him skyward. Mikael spun mid-air, his body flipping uncontrollably before crashing violently into the stone walls of a ruined fortress.

Darius sighed, shaking his head. "I'm tired of regenerating. This fight is tedious. I'll end it now."

Without hesitation, he teleported. One moment, he was standing casually, the next, he was right in front of Mikael, gripping his legs with inhuman strength. With a sickening crunch, he crushed them both before hurling Mikael across the battlefield like a ragdoll. Mikael skidded across the bloodstained ground, coughing up crimson, his body trembling from sheer agony.

Struggling to rise, Mikael could barely whisper, "Run… Run, Amelia… take Lazarus and go…"

Amelia clenched her fists, her voice defiant. "No! We are all leaving here alive! I won't abandon you, brother!"

Mikael's rage flared. "Why don't you understand?! Look around you! Are you still trapped in your delusions?! You need to run! If you don't… then just die like the rest of those worthless pigs!" He took a deep breath before spitting out, "I thought you were smart, Amelia… but you're just as pathetic as Lazarus. A weakling. A coward."

Tears welled in Amelia's eyes. His words cut deeper than any sword ever could. She staggered back, pain and disbelief washing over her face.

Suddenly, the air crackled with energy. A gray blur zipped through the battlefield, and before Mikael could react, Darius appeared in front of him once more. With an amused smirk, he kicked Mikael square in the face, sending him tumbling across the ground like a discarded doll.

Darius exhaled, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it with a mere flick of his fingers. He took a slow drag before exhaling a plume of smoke. "And you call yourself a prince? Are you sure? Because from where I stand, you don't even qualify as a soldier." He scoffed. "You're the weakest opponent I've ever faced. I didn't even need to use my vampire or demonic forms. That's how pathetic you are."

Amelia, still frozen in shock, barely registered the movement around her. The soldiers, once distracted, turned their attention back to her. Their expressions twisted with murderous intent. Several lunged at her, blades gleaming under the moonlight, ready to tear her apart.

Before they could reach her, a sharp, crimson object whizzed through the air. In a heartbeat, it impaled one of the soldiers, its deadly point protruding from his chest. His lifeless body collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.

Every soldier halted, their eyes darting towards the direction the weapon had come from.

There, standing tall amidst the chaos, was a red-haired warrior. His eyes burned with fury, his expression a mask of unrelenting rage. In his grip, his melee weapon gleamed ominously, still dripping with fresh blood.

With a chilling smirk, he took a fighting stance and uttered in a cold, menacing voice:

"Let the massacre begin."