LEAD TO KNEE

The battlefield had gone deathly still after Arslan's last strike.

Dust floated in slow spirals. The black mist from Noir Tempest still crackled faintly in the air. Everyone held their breath. From behind barricades and broken columns, wounded Mythics and scattered Echelon Knights peered out, eyes wide.

And there—still standing in the center—was ZARELLE.

A long gash ran down the demon's obsidian chest. His arm had twisted slightly from the force of Arslan's shadow-laced tempest. Shadows clung to his scales like leeches, draining, binding.

But he didn't fall.

Instead, ZARELLE slowly raised his head. His crimson eyes glowed hotter, like twin embers reigniting.

"…You," he growled, voice suddenly lower, deeper—inhuman. "You made me bleed. You."

The ground began to quake.

A sinister aura erupted from him—so dense it made the air feel heavy, suffocating.

Kar'Thael's voice burst into Arslan's mind, sharp and fast:

> "He's shifting—he's done playing. That gash pushed him into his full demon form."

Arslan narrowed his eyes. "Let him."

> "No—listen. This isn't about killing him anymore. If we destroy him, the Demon Lords will simply send another. We need to capture him. His mind holds information—their next gate, their commanders."

> "Wound him, weaken him, but don't finish him."

A deep growl rumbled from ZARELLE's chest as his body began to transform.

Thick black horns curled from his forehead. His arms elongated, claws sharpened into jagged hooks. The tail split into three, each pulsing with molten cracks of red energy. Wings—vast, torn, infernal—burst from his back, casting a horrific shadow over the ruined field.

His voice now echoed in multiple tones. "You dare humiliate me before insects? Fine. I'll show you why mortals tremble before ZARELLE OF THE ASHEN PIT!"

The sky darkened.

A shockwave pulsed outward, shattering debris and throwing nearby Echelon Knights off their feet. Elira Saelwyn, clutching her cracked weapon, gasped from afar.

"That's his true form…"

Arslan wiped blood from his mouth and raised Crimson Verge once more.

"This is far from over."

---

ZARELLE charged.

He moved like a storm. His triple tails lashed, scything through stone. He slammed down from the air with a flame-punch that would have vaporized a weaker Knight.

But Arslan was ready.

He stepped sideways, sliding beneath the monstrous arm.

Shadow Merge activated.

His body phased into the shadows momentarily, avoiding ZARELLE's grasp entirely. He reappeared behind him and unleashed a devastating Spiral Recoil, the twisting blade surging into the demon's back like a black drill.

ZARELLE shrieked—part agony, part rage—and countered with a backhand swing of his massive wing.

WHAM.

Arslan was thrown back again, crashing through two walls. He coughed, forcing himself up with a hiss of pain.

> "Now, Arslan," Kar'Thael said in his mind. "Unleash the second combination skill."

Arslan stood, focused his breath—and his hands crackled with converging energies.

From his core, three forces began to fuse.

🔥 Crimson Verge's blood power

🌑 Phantom Rift's bending reality

⚡ Eclipsion Pulse's explosive energy

The aura pulsed, chaotic and bright—red, black, and violet colliding into one.

Then…

"NEBULA FRACTURE"

A massive swirling rift formed around ZARELLE—pulsing with tendrils of abyssal energy and searing light. The moment it collapsed inward—

BOOOOOM!

An implosion burst across the battlefield.

The very fabric of space twisted where ZARELLE stood. Shadows shattered like glass. His howl was deafening.

ZARELLE staggered out of the smoke, bleeding from multiple places now—his leg barely supporting his weight, wings torn at the edges.

Still, he didn't fall.

> "He's too resilient," Kar'Thael warned. "Even that didn't bring him down. You need more."

Suddenly, from within Arslan's chest, a glowing red sigil ignited.

Kar'Thael's voice echoed with power:

> "Vessel Combat Protocol – Fight Skill Tier 1: INSTINCT WRATH – Activated."

Arslan's body pulsed.

A new strength flooded his veins—raw, primal.

Muscle tension faded. His vision sharpened. His reflexes heightened to unnatural speed. He didn't even think anymore—his body moved, reacting to ZARELLE with a subconscious, deadly grace.

Arslan blurred forward with inhuman speed, launching Shadow Blades mid-sprint that pierced ZARELLE's side.

Then he leapt high.

Mid-air, he combined Phantom Rift again—disappearing momentarily into a swirl of fog—and reappeared above ZARELLE.

BLACK HALO.

A ring of dark energy formed around his wrist and then—

CRACK!

He slammed it into ZARELLE's skull.

The demon shrieked—his knees hit the ground.

Everyone watching gasped.

ZARELLE—the unkillable, unstoppable beast—was kneeling.

For the first time in the entire war.

Elira whispered in awe, "He brought him… to his knees…"

Arslan, panting but not slowing, landed in front of ZARELLE. Blood dripped from his fists, but his eyes burned brighter than ever.

"You're done," he said coldly.

ZARELLE growled, trying to stand.

Arslan summoned the Dark Bow and shot two piercing arrows of condensed shadow straight into the demon's legs—pinning him to the ground.

Kar'Thael said calmly:

> "He's weak enough. Time to prepare the sealing."

> "But beware… he may still have one last move."

And ZARELLE… grinned.

Blood ran down his chin, but the glint of madness remained.

"Who are you, huh…?" the demon whispered, barely audible.

"You think you've won?"

A pulse of crimson began to build in his chest.