Chapter 112: The battle of ancients

Chapter 112: Chapter 112: The battle of ancients

The sky split apart as Ifrith launched himself upward.

There was no warning, no hesitation—just the sudden release of power that had been building for over a thousand years. The ancient Primodial ascended like a comet, his body wreathed in flames that burned with the intensity of a dying star. The heat radiating from him was so intense that the ground beneath Theon’s feet began to crack and blacken.

Asmodeus watched him come. His expression remained calm, almost bored, as if this was nothing more than an inconvenience. But there was something in his eyes—a flicker of recognition, perhaps even respect—that betrayed the truth.

He’s been waiting for this, Theon realized. They both have.

"Finally," Asmodeus murmured, raising his hand. "I was beginning to think you’d lost your nerve entirely."

Ifrith’s response was not spoken. It was a fist, wreathed in flame, driven directly toward Asmodeus’s face.

The impact shattered the air around them. A shockwave exploded outward, sending debris flying in all directions. Theon threw his arm up to shield his eyes, and beside him, he heard Lyra gasp as the force of the blast pushed her backward.

"Stay behind me!" Theon shouted, positioning himself between Lyra and the battle above. His grip on NIVARETH tightened as he watched the two ancient beings clash.

Ifrith’s fist had connected—but Asmodeus had not moved. Instead, the Primordial Demon stood exactly where he had been, a shimmering barrier of dark energy absorbing the blow without so much as a ripple.

"Impressive," Asmodeus said, tilting his head slightly. "But predictable. You’ve always favored brute force over subtlety."

Ifrith’s eyes blazed. "You talk too much."

He struck again—and again—and again. Each blow landed with devastating force, each impact creating shockwaves that sent tremors through the ground below. The barrier around Asmodeus began to flicker, cracks appearing in its surface as Ifrith’s relentless assault took its toll.

But Asmodeus was not idle.

"Shadow Grasp," he said calmly, and from his outstretched hand, tendrils of darkness erupted. They moved like living things, coiling and twisting, reaching for Ifrith with predatory hunger.

Ifrith twisted in midair, evading the first tendril. The second caught him across the chest, its touch leaving a trail of frost that spread across his burning form. He grunted in pain but didn’t slow down.

"Void," he snarled, and the word itself seemed to carry power.

The space around Ifrith’s hands began to warp. The light itself seemed to bend and twist, drawn toward something that was not quite there—a darkness deeper than shadow, an emptiness that predated creation itself.

Asmodeus’s eyes widened. "You wouldn’t dare—"

But Ifrith was already moving. He thrust his hands forward, and the void he had summoned erupted outward. It was not fire. It was not magic. It was something far older, far more destructive—the absence of existence itself, given form and purpose.

The tendrils of shadow Asmodeus had summoned were consumed instantly, drawn into the void and erased from reality. The barrier around Asmodeus shattered like glass, and the Primordial Demon was forced to retreat, his composure cracking in that moment.

"Still playing with fire you can’t control," Asmodeus said, but there was something different in his voice now—a hint of genuine concern. "You know what that spell does to you. What it takes from you."

Ifrith laughed, and there was something wild in the sound. "I don’t care."

He attacked again, void still swirling around his hands. Asmodeus raised his own defenses, but the void consumed them effortlessly, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

---

Below, Theon watched the battle unfold with growing horror. The power on display was beyond anything he had ever witnessed—beyond anything he had even imagined possible. Each strike from Ifrith carried enough force to level a mountain. Each counter from Asmodeus created explosions of dark energy that scarred the very fabric of reality.

"She’s going to be okay," Lyra said, her voice trembling. Theon looked down and saw that she had somehow dragged Lazaria’s unconscious body closer to them, shielding the wounded girl with her own body. "I think she’s breathing. That sneak attack from Asmodeus really injured her."

Theon nodded, his eyes never leaving the battle above. "Keep her safe. Don’t let anything happen to her."

"I won’t." Lyra’s voice was determined, despite the fear that was evident in her eyes. "What’s happening up there? I can’t even follow their movements."

"Neither can I," Theon admitted. "They’re fighting on a level that’s beyond anything I’ve encountered before."

From somewhere to their left, a voice spoke up. "Ifrith is using Void Magic."

Theon turned and saw Seraphina approaching, her Crimson hair disheveled, her robes torn and bloodied. Despite her injuries, there was a fire in her eyes that refused to be extinguished.

"Void Magic?" Lyra repeated. "What’s that?"

"It’s... ancient," Seraphina said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Older than the world we know. It draws on the emptiness that existed before creation—the nothingness from which everything was born." She paused, her eyes fixed on the battle above. "But it’s dangerous. It consumes the user as much as it consumes the enemy."

Theon felt a chill run down his spine. "What do you mean?"

"Ifrith is giving up pieces of himself," Seraphina explained. "Every time he uses Void, he’s sacrificing a part of his existence. A memory. An emotion. A fragment of his power." She shook her head slowly. "He’s fighting like a demon who has nothing left to lose."

Theon looked up at Ifrith—at the ancient being who had been his guide, his ally, his friend—and felt something twist in his chest.

He’s sacrificing himself. For us.

"No," Theon said, his voice hardening. "I won’t let him."

But before he could move, a hand grabbed his arm. It was Silver, her expression grim and determined.

"Don’t," Silver said. "This is his fight. His choice. Interfering would only make things worse."

"Worse?" Theon’s voice rose. "He’s killing himself! How could that be worse?"

Silver met his gaze steadily. "Because Asmodeus is waiting for exactly that. He wants you to try to intervene. He wants you to split your focus, to make a mistake." He shook his head. "Ifrith knows what he’s doing. Trust him."

Theon looked at Silver and felt the fight drain out of him.

"You’re right," he said reluctantly. "I know you’re right. But it doesn’t make it any easier."

"Nothing about this is easy," Silver replied. "That’s the point."

---

Above them, the battle had reached a new intensity. Ifrith was pressing his advantage, driving Asmodeus back with a relentless assault that showed no signs of slowing. The void around his hands had grown larger, darker, more dangerous—and with it, the price he was paying was becoming more and more visible.

His form flickered, the flames that surrounded him dimming slightly. His movements, once fluid and precise, were beginning to show signs of strain.

Asmodeus, despite being on the defensive, was smiling.

"You’re fading," he observed. "I can see it. Each attack costs you more than the last. How long can you keep this up, I wonder?"

Ifrith didn’t answer. He simply attacked again—and again—and again.

"Force of Annihilation," Asmodeus said, raising his hand. A sphere of pure darkness erupted from his palm, expanding outward with terrifying speed. It struck Ifrith head-on, and the ancient being was hurled backward, his body crashing through the remnants of the barrier that had once contained them.

Ifrith hit the ground hard, carving a trench through the stone before coming to a stop. His body flickered, the flames around him guttering like a dying candle.

"IFRIT!" The scream came from Silver, who had been watching the battle with growing horror. She started to run toward him, but Silver caught her arm, holding her back.

"Don’t," seraphina said, her voice urgent. "You’ll only get yourself killed."

"I don’t care!" Silver struggled against her grip. "He needs me!"

"HE NEEDS YOU TO SURVIVE!" Seraphina shouted, shaking her slightly. "Do you understand that? He’s fighting to protect you—to protect all of us. If you throw your life away, his sacrifice means nothing!"

Silver went still, tears streaming down her face. "I can’t just watch him die," she whispered. "I can’t."

"You won’t have to," Theon said, stepping forward. "He’s not done yet."

As if on cue, Ifrith rose from the crater his body had made. His form was flickering, unstable, but the void around his hands was larger than ever—a swirling mass of nothingness that seemed to pull the very light from the air.

"You want to know why I’ve always been able to resist you?" Ifrith said, his voice echoing with strange harmonics. "It’s not because I’m stronger. It’s not because I’m better. It’s because I’ve already accepted the truth about myself. I’ve already faced the darkness inside me."

Asmodeus’s smile faltered. "What are you talking about?"

"I’m talking about this," Ifrith said, and he raised his hands. "The Void. You think it’s a spell? A technique? Something I learned?" He laughed, and the sound was terrible. "No. The Void is what I am. It’s what I’ve always been. The fire, the heat, the destruction—those were just masks. The Void is the truth."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Theon stared at Ifrith—at the ancient being who had guided him, taught him, sacrificed for him—and felt the weight of that revelation settle over him.

The Void is what he is. He’s been hiding it. All this time.

"Impossible," Asmodeus said, but there was uncertainty in his voice now. "I would have known. I would have sensed—"

"Would you?" Ifrith’s smile was cold. "You’ve been so focused on your own plans, your own schemes, your own petty ambitions. Did you ever stop to consider that I might have been hiding something from you?"

The void around Ifrith’s hands expanded, growing to encompass his entire body. The flames that had surrounded him were gone now, replaced by something far more terrifying—a darkness so absolute that it seemed to consume everything it touched.

Asmodeus took a step back. For w split, Theon saw genuine fear in the Primordial Demon’s eyes.

"What are you doing?" Asmodeus demanded. "If you unleash that here, you’ll destroy everything—yourself, your allies, all of it!"

"I know," Ifrith said calmly. "I’ve accepted that."

"IFRIT!" Silver scream cut through the air. "DON’T DO THIS! THERE HAS TO BE ANOTHER WAY!"

Ifrith’s gaze flickered toward her—the woman who had fought beside him, who had believed in him, who had seen the darkness inside him and loved him anyway.

"I’m sorry," he said softly. "But some battles can’t be won without sacrifice."

Asmodeus laughed, but there was a desperate edge to it now. "Sacrifice? You think sacrificing yourself will stop me? I’ve survived for millennia! I’ve cheated death more times than you can count! One death—even your death—won’t change anything!"

"No," Ifrith agreed. "Probably not. But that’s not why I’m doing this."

He turned toward Asmodeus, and the void around him pulsed with terrible power.

"I’m doing this because I’ve spent a thousand years running from what I am. A thousand years hiding from the truth. And I’m tired." His voice dropped to something almost gentle. "So I’m going to show you what I really am, Asmodeus. I’m going to show you the monster that’s been hiding inside me all along."

The void exploded outward.

It was not a spell. It was not an attack. It was something far simpler, far more terrible—the revelation of a truth that had been buried for centuries, finally released into the world.

The darkness consumed everything.

Theon felt it wash over him—felt the emptiness that predated existence, the silence that existed before the first sound, the void that had been waiting since the beginning of time.

And somewhere in the darkness, he heard Asmodeus scream.

---

When the light returned, the battlefield was changed.

The crater where the Origin Explosion had struck was gone, replaced by something far stranger—a smooth, glassy surface that seemed to reflect the sky above. The ground had been fused into obsidian, the stone melted by forces beyond mortal comprehension.

In the center of the obsidian plain, two figures stood facing each other.

Ifrith was barely recognizable. His form flickered like a dying flame, his body translucent and fragile. The void that had surrounded him had retreated, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

But he was still standing.

Asmodeus was kneeling. His body was covered in wounds—deep gashes that leaked a substance that was not quite blood. His face was pale, his composure shattered, his eyes wide with something that might have been fear.

"That’s impossible," Asmodeus whispered. "That’s not supposed to be possible."

"Apparently," Ifrith said, his voice weak but steady, "I am a Void Born remember."

Silver was the first to move. She broke free from seraphina grip and ran toward Ifrith, her face streaked with tears.

"You idiot," she said, her voice cracking. "You absolute idiot."

Ifrith smiled weakly. "I know. I’m sorry."

"Don’t be sorry," she said, reaching him and pulling him into an embrace. "Just don’t die. Please don’t die."

Ifrith’s form flickered, but he wrapped his arms around her.

"I’ll try my best," he said softly. "That’s all I can promise."

Theon watched the scene, his heart heavy. He looked at Lyra, who was still cradling Lazaria’s unconscious form. He looked at seraphina, who was watching the battlefield with a grim expression. She looked at silver, who was holding Ifrith like he might disappear at any moment.

And then he looked at Asmodeus.

The Primordial Demon was rising. Slowly, painfully, but rising nonetheless. Despite everything Ifrith had done, despite the power that had been unleashed, Asmodeus was still standing.

He’s not dead, Theon realized. He’s injured, but not dead.

Asmodeus looked up, met Theon’s eyes, and smiled.

"You see?" he said, his voice weak but triumphant. "It’s not enough. Nothing you do will ever be enough."

Theon’s grip on NIVARETH tightened.

"We’ll see about that," he said.