In the sky, just as the Rulers attempted to pursue and capture the owner of the dark eye by stepping into the rift above, a man cloaked in darkness emerged instead.
He was undeniably handsome, with neatly tousled dark hair—but it was his eyes that stole all warmth from the scene. Two deep, inhuman purple slits cut through obsidian irises, glowing with malice in the darkness.
Shadows clung to him like a second skin, thick and unnatural, making him look less like a man and more like a demon who had stepped out of hell to corrupt the world. He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked onto the Rulers—and just as his lips parted, several identical voices hoarsely echoed at once.
"Coward?"
One word. Just one word. That was all it took to freeze the advancing Rulers in their place. One of them drew in a sharp breath.
"He’s only at the peak of the 6th stage. So why does his presence feel so terrifying?"
Another one shouted from behind him.
"It’s not just one presence! There are two—no, several! He’s wielding the Dark Law of Fusion! Combined, their power equals the boundary of the 7th stage! Retreat—!"
Too late. The man who had emerged from the crack never moved, but the person who had spoken earlier was suddenly seized by the neck—lifted effortlessly by a figure that stepped out from the purple particles now spreading across the entire mist-laced sky.
That figure was eerily similar to the man who had emerged from the massive rift.
Azazeal’s lips curled into an eerie smile.
With a single blink, his clone tightened its grip on the struggling Ruler’s neck, as if responding to an unspoken command.
"You want to capture me?"
He cooed, his tone mocking.
"Come, capture me then."
The struggling Ruler’s eyes blazed with anger. With a sudden surge of power, he blasted the fake body away, clutching his bruised neck as he retreated mid-air.
"You dare challenge our authority? Who even allowed you to live this long?!"
Azazeal let out a low, chilling laugh—one that echoed through the sky, quickly joined by a chorus of identical voices as more of his clones stepped out from the particles.
"So, war it is then."
He sneered, arms outstretched. Six similar bodies floated around him in a circle. Each one bore the same face, the same strength, the same cold, otherworldly expression as the original figure hovering at their center.
Perfectly identical.
Unnaturally precise. It was like watching nightmares tear free from the seams of reality, stepping out of the sky itself.
"Let’s give them a war!"
His words thundered across the skies. The figures around him stretched their lips into wide, eerie smirks—eager to kill, to destroy.
The air stilled after his shout. The weak Celestials hidden in the surrounding area, waiting for a chance to enter the floating Gate, began to flee, sensing that a brutal, catastrophic battle was about to erupt.
Meanwhile, submerged in the lake, Kyle’s eyes gleamed with a strange, almost sad thrill. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the seven identical figures floating above.
"Haha..."
A wild laugh escaped his lips, quickly swallowed by the surrounding water.
He had only managed to break off a few tiny fragments of his soul and mind—and even that was thanks to a method similar to Ceano’s. He knew that the moment his clones died or were destroyed, those tiny pieces would immediately return to him.
After all, no matter how small, a fragment of the soul was sacred. Once destroyed, it would undeniably leave a deep, agonizing scar—one that no power could ever heal.
He had endured it—so he knew. He knew exactly what happened when even a tiny part of one’s soul was stolen by another.
The agony. The haunting pain.
But Azazeal...
Azazeal had gone far beyond. This time, he hadn’t simply broken off small pieces of his soul to create fake bodies—that crazy man had shattered it into seven equal pieces, all for the sake of growing stronger, faster.
Now, he could never merge them back together. Kyle choked on his laugh, the mirth fading into something sorrowful.
Why? Why had he gone so far?
Couldn’t he have waited—to grow stronger the normal way? Why did he have to break himself so completely... just for revenge?
Hah... they really weren’t alike.
He would never do that.
Truly, they were different.
’How am I supposed to kill you when you are killing yourself? Is your goal really just to kill that man, destroy the universe that made you this way, and then disappear?’
Sitting beside Cassian, Clan Leader Ares’s amethyst eyes narrowed solemnly as he stared directly at Azazeal’s original body.
"Dangerous. That man is dangerous."
Silver blinked in confusion.
"But... he’s not even a Ruler."
Ares shook his head with a frown.
"That doesn’t change anything. He has shattered his soul and mind into multiple fragments—not the kind that would return to him when the fake bodies holding them die... but fragments that have wills of their own and die alongside the fake bodies."
His voice grew even more grave.
"I can sense he has fed those clones many treasures to make them equal in strength to himself—just so he could use a dark law to fuse their power into one. Do you think any sane person could pull that off? No. Most Celestials would go mad attempting it."
Silver’s eyes flickered with realization.
"That means...?"
Ares drew in a sharp breath.
"There is no fake body in front of you. They are all real—each one holds an equal part of his soul. That’s what makes it terrifying."
He grabbed Silver’s shoulder, solemn eyes glancing at those staring at him in disbelief.
"Let’s leave. Staying here isn’t safe. I can see it in those dark obsidian eyes—once that person starts fighting, he won’t stop. Everything in his sight will die. Even if he is defeated, he’s still going to wreak havoc."
Just as they were about to leave, Owin, Jolie, and Tai glanced toward the lake.
Tai frowned and turned to Cassian.
"What about Kyle?"
Everyone froze, their eyes snapping toward the spot where the man had waved at them earlier. That jerk still hadn’t returned—even after seeing how bad things had gotten!
Damn it!