The tension on the battlefield had become almost solid. Biel and the Guardian stared at each other, measuring what remained of their strength in that deathly silence. Above them, the sky was hidden beneath a mantle of ashen clouds that seemed to mimic the violence of the encounter; the air, dense and charged with opposing polarities, turned every breath of oxygen into a titanic effort.
Biel, his gaze ignited by a somber glow, began to channel his last hope. The Shadow Thorns manifested around him—a technique perfected in the rigor of his training but never before executed on such a scale. Before him, the Guardian—an imposing presence whose black armor seemed to devour any trace of light—began the incantation for his Limit Breaker. His voice, deep and cavernous, made the ground vibrate with every syllable uttered.
From a distance, Raizel felt a sharp shiver run down her spine. With her heart pounding wildly, she witnessed the earth beginning to shake violently, as if the world itself were protesting the magnitude of the imminent impact.
"They're insane!" she cried out, her voice breaking with desperation. "They're going to destroy everything!"
However, her warning was swallowed by the roar of accumulated power. The Shadow Thorns erupted from the ground like lethal black fangs, twisting with supernatural speed. Simultaneously, the Limit Breaker unleashed a devastating tide of energy that seemed to tear at the boundaries of space. The clash resulted in a colossal explosion; a pillar of smoke and debris rose toward the sky, burying all trace of visibility.
The earthquake intensified. Raizel fell to her knees, unable to maintain her balance as the surrounding trees arched under the pressure of the shockwave.
"You are going to die, filthy human! You and that demonic race will vanish here!" the Guardian roared, his voice echoing like thunder over the chaos. A cruel smile distorted his face, betraying the sadistic pleasure he felt seeing his enemy falter amidst the rubble.
Biel, panting and with blurred vision, responded with a firmness that defied his imminent collapse: "I will not die in this place... even though I am already dead."
However, his body finally gave way. The Imperfect Demon King form vanished like smoke through his fingers, leaving him vulnerable and completely exhausted. His limbs trembled violently, marked by wounds that bled slowly onto the sacred earth. Noticing his fragility, the Guardian widened his smile and began to condense his energy to deliver the definitive blow.
The attack struck Biel head-on, kicking up a new and suffocating pillar of dust. When the roar ceased and silence returned to the battlefield, Biel lay motionless on the ground. But, in the deepest part of his being, a vibrant echo began to pull him away from the pain, toward the depths of his own subconscious.
In that ethereal and dark space, Biel found himself once again before Monsfil.
"You have fallen again, young Bearer," Monsfil stated in his deep voice, stripped of reproach but laden with solemnity. "There is only one way to return, but the path will be tortuous for you."
Biel, aware that no time remained, replied without a hint of doubt: "I have to go back. Tell me what I must do."
Monsfil studied him in silence before issuing his warning. "Unleash your Semi-Perfect Form. But be careful: that state will make you lose control. Do you believe you can master it?"
Biel clenched his fists, letting resolve light up his gaze. "If it's the only way, I'll do it. I have to."
Monsfil nodded slowly. "Then go and claim that power, young Bearer. But remember: power is a double-edged sword. Do not allow it to eventually consume you."
Biel regained consciousness on the battlefield, barely able to support the weight of his own body. Every breath was a needle-prick of pain. In front of him, the Guardian advanced with heavy steps, casting a threatening shadow that sentenced the end of the fight.
"We'll have to do it..." Biel whispered to himself, as a dense, dark energy began to sprout from his pores.
Suddenly, the sky closed in a sudden mourning. The clouds swirled violently, forming a vortex that seemed to devour what little light remained, while a thick black aura enveloped Biel in a perfect circle pulsing with uncontrolled power. The Guardian stopped dead in his tracks; his arrogance replaced by primal terror.
"Impossible! How can this filthy human still be alive?!" he exclaimed, recoiling instinctively as the air began to crackle.
An explosion of dark energy shook the foundations of the place, throwing both the Guardian and the defenseless Raizel through the air. Ancient trees were uprooted like mere weeds, and the ground cracked under the pressure of the unleashed power. When the smoke finally cleared, Biel stood upright, completely transformed.
His appearance had changed drastically: his Semi-Perfect Form emanated an aura of pure destruction, his wounds had closed in an instant, and his raiment now looked altered by the energy. However, the most terrifying thing was his eyes; in them, no trace of Biel remained. He had lost control completely.
The transformation was a nightmare spectacle. His skin flashed with a dark radiance, and ancient runes appeared seared into his arms and torso.
"Void Fury," Biel whispered with a voice that did not sound human.
A deflagration of darkness swept away everything surrounding the young Bearer. The Guardian, now completely terrified and overwhelmed, made the desperate decision to flee, taking flight to escape that runaway demon. But Biel would not allow it. He raised his hand, and his voice resonated with the power of thunder:
"Void Thorns."
From his palm sprouted dark brambles that twisted in the air, pursuing their prey with implacable speed. The thorns reached the Guardian in mid-flight, piercing his heart with surgical precision. The body of the sacred warrior fell inert against the ground; his life was extinguished the very moment he touched the earth he swore to protect.
In the midst of the absolute devastation, Biel smiled. It was not the smile of a warrior celebrating victory, but a sadistic gesture laden with unfathomable darkness. In that instant, the line separating the hero from the monster finished blurring, revealing the true and bitter price of having claimed that power.
Raizel contemplated with horror the figure Biel had become. With shaky steps, she began to approach as the wind, heavy with ash and soot, struck her face.
"Biel... what have you done?" she murmured, her voice breaking.
But he did not answer. He remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the infinite horizon. His eyes were no longer the same; in them was reflected a cold triumph mixed with something far more terrifying: a growing shadow that, little by little, was beginning to consume him from within.
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