Chapter 1939: Azazel

"My name is Azazel."The Depravita’s voice was calm and candid, its tone devoid of malice yet carrying a weight that pressed into the air around them.

Cain narrowed his eyes. Even with The Flow guiding his senses, he could not pierce Azazel’s emotions or intentions. The man’s body language, his stance, his breathing—nothing gave anything away. It was as though he had been carved from stone, immune to Cain’s scrutiny.

In the end, Cain drew a slow breath and chose to speak. Conversation, after all, sometimes revealed more than silence.

"My name is Cain Laurifer."

"I know."

Azazel nodded immediately. "I have been informed about you, Primordial, and I have also assimilated the memories of my vessel."

At this point, the Depravita paused, his gaze drifting over Cain from head to toe, studying him as if taking measurements of something unseen. His head tilted slightly.

"However," he continued, "according to those memories, you were supposed to be badly injured—crippled, even—after performing Resurrección with such a weak body and soul force. Yet here you stand at your peak. That means either my vessel was deceived... or you possess regeneration abilities beyond my expectations."

A meaningful light flickered in Cain’s eyes. He understood exactly what Azazel meant by vessel.

"So... that was the Divine Calamity’s destiny."

Azazel inclined his head slightly at the remark before releasing a faint sigh. "I came as quickly as possible, hoping to take advantage of your weakness, to end this fast and without too much bloodshed. But it seems I was still too slow."

Cain’s fists clenched. The meaning behind those words could not have been clearer. The goal of the Depravita was to end his life, just like Divine Calamity had been.

Azazel noticed the change in Cain’s posture and sighed again, his tone steady. "I tend to speak more than necessary after a long sleep. But I think it’s time to be direct."

His grip on his sword tightened. Power flared instantly along the blade, its edge beginning to glow with an otherworldly radiance.

"My mission is to kill you. I do not enjoy violence, but my orders are absolute. I know this might be pointless to say, but I will anyway—if you surrender, I will make your death quick and painless, and I will not allow anyone to touch your people for ten thousand years."

Cain’s heartbeat surged, each thud growing faster and heavier. His Asura Form ignited, accelerating the flow of his energy and flooding his body with more World Strength. In less than a second, the force of his heartbeat alone made the sky tremble.

Star Power from the Entropy Supernova Astral Supremacy Star flowed over his hands and forearms, sheathing them in destructive resilience. He didn’t bother replying. His stance and the red inferno in his eyes made his answer clear enough.

Azazel released a small sigh before determination flared in his gaze. The time for words had ended.

"BOOM!"

"BOOM!"

The energy of Primordial and Depravita erupted, manifesting as massive pillars that clashed in the air.

Cain’s pillar burned red with flame, laced with gravity’s pull, the raw might of World Strength, dominion over space, and the corrosive weight of entropy—all infused with the will of dominance and destruction, as Star Power flooded through his arms, enhancing their strength and durability.

Azazel’s energy was heavier—layered with the crushing force of gravity, the inexorable flow of time, and an unnatural stillness. Yet there was something else woven into it: a psychic signature unique to the Depravita race.

Thanks to his time with Meylin and Tiamat, Cain recognized it instantly.

Sloth.

One of the Seven Deadly Sins—Sloth carried the inevitability of stillness, the cosmic resistance to change. In its ultimate expression, all motion returned to the zero-point.

Their auras expanded higher and higher until the ocean beneath them began to rise, pulled into a continent-sized tornado. Massive walls of water surrounded them, the sky dimming as if the world itself was bracing for impact.

Then they moved.

The momentum of their bodies was so immense that cracks spiderwebbed across the fabric of space itself. Fist met sword.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

An explosion of crimson flame and blinding white fire tore through the cyclone around them, scattering it in an instant. The sea below ignited, waves burning with unnatural heat. This was not magic, nor an elaborate technique—just raw, physical force unleashed.

In that moment, it was clear. They were both of a league that could humble every other Archdiety in the Everstrife Empyrean World.

Cain and Azazel locked eyes, each staring into an ocean of willpower—the unshakable determination to fulfill their purpose no matter the cost.

The energy at the meeting point of fist and blade reached its zenith, forcing them apart. But neither hesitated. They lunged back into the fray.

Cain’s eyes blazed brighter than the sun overhead. With The Flow fully active, he read the path of Azazel’s sword, twisting his body with perfect precision. His left hand shot forward, catching the flat of the blade and pushing it aside.

He rotated his torso with explosive force, twisting back to drive his elbow toward Azazel’s neck.

However, the Depravita moved first. Before Cain’s strike could gather full momentum, Azazel drove his forehead forward, smashing it into Cain’s elbow to break the motion entirely.

Cain’s eyes widened. To halt an attack that cleanly, at that speed, required a level of martial mastery unlike anything he had seen before.

There was no time to dwell on it. As soon as the elbow strike was neutralized, Azazel’s leg whipped up in a brutal arc, his foot slamming into Cain’s abdomen.

The impact made Cain’s core tremble, sending him flying backward.

He regained control almost instantly, his gaze cold and focused as he prepared to rush toward Azazel in the distance. But before he could take a single step, a new sensation stopped him—the edge of Azazel’s sword was resting on his shoulder.

Cain froze, shock flashing in his eyes. Azazel had appeared before him without warning—no shift in energy, no ripple in space, nothing. One moment he was meters away, the next his blade was already cutting through flesh.

Pain bloomed across Cain’s chest as the sword slid down, slicing through flesh and muscles. A spray of blood burst into the air, staining the burning sky.