CHAPTER 934: METATRON’S FINAL RADIANCE

"—BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM!"

An explosion of cosmic force echoed across the tomb as Metatron clashed with Hajack and Orous. The three Lords of Heaven, Abyss, and Hell moved across the battlefield like living streaks of light. Their speed was beyond mortal comprehension; each collision detonated with the force to level worlds.

Anywhere else, their fight would have destroyed everything in its path—collapsing space-time itself, unraveling reality. But this was the tomb of a Primordial God. Its stability was absolute, forged to endure cataclysms. No matter how apocalyptic their clash became, the dimension held firm, allowing them to unleash their full fury.

Metatron conjured volley after volley of god-weapons. Each spear, sword, and dagger blazed with divine authority. Yet the signs of strain were clear: the summoning took longer, and their strength was weaker than before. His reserves were burning away. Still, the wounds carved into Hajack’s scales and Orous’s body made it clear that the Archangel’s power, though waning, remained lethal.

Hajack roared, spreading his abyssal draconic wings to shield himself from the rain of god-weapons. Each heartbeat slammed his body with hundreds of strikes; wounds opened across his flesh, blood spilling like rivers. Yet the Demon Lord forced his way forward, his colossal frame tearing through the barrage until he stood directly before Metatron. He hurled himself forward like a living battering ram, his body a weapon of destruction.

Metatron prepared to dodge, but froze—he felt the heat of Orous’s power rising behind him. If he shifted even an inch, the Devil Lord’s attack would consume him. A river of golden fire had already gathered, poised to strike the moment Metatron moved.

Cold fury filled the Archangel’s eyes. He could not escape. So he chose to strike.

With a roar, Metatron summoned Gungnir. He gripped the weapon so tightly his arms trembled, blood spilling from the corner of his lips under the strain. The spear pulsed with divine energy, its shaft vibrating with the will of Heaven itself, as he struck with all his strength.

The weapon landed on Hajack’s massive frame, halting the Demon Lord’s charge and then sending the Demon Lord crashing into the ground. The impact carved a crater into the battlefield, the force shaking the tomb. Hajack’s body groaned under the crushing might, bones snapping.

But Metatron had no time to breathe. A blazing sun was already rising before him—Orous’s ultimate spell. With nothing in its way now, the sphere of golden fire surged forward, large enough to scorch the skies themselves.

Metatron steadied himself. He raised Gungnir one final time, inhaling a shuddering breath, and hurled it.

"ZNNNNNN!"

The sound of reality twisting accompanied the spear’s flight. Gungnir’s true nature was revealed—it was not merely a melee weapon, but a divine projectile embodying Heaven’s will. Nothing could stop it. No barrier, no distance, no obstacle could prevent it from striking its target.

It pierced straight through the blazing sun Orous had conjured, carving a perfect hole in the sphere of fire. Orous was shocked by the power of the spear, and he twisted at the last instant, avoiding his heart being pierced. Even so, the spear ripped through his left arm, severing it cleanly.

Pain flared across his face, but his right hand clenched into a fist. With a snarl, the wounded Devil Lord forced his golden sun forward again. The sphere continued its march, bursting against Metatron.

An ocean of golden fire erupted, engulfing the Archangel.

When Metatron emerged from the inferno, his body was charred, his skin cracked and bleeding. His frame trembled under the strain. Yet his eyes burned colder than ever. However, before he could reorient himself, a shadow loomed over him.

A colossal draconic hand closed around his body. Hajack had risen, his eyes blazing with merciless triumph. His claws tightened around the Archangel, abyssal fire igniting his grip. The heat and pressure were immense, capable of pulverizing heavenly bodies in seconds.

Metatron gasped, his body crushed, wings pinned. Hajack’s laughter shook the battlefield. The Demon Lord was certain of his victory.

But instinct screamed at him, warning of an immense danger, but it was too late.

From within his grip, a sudden explosion of power burst forth. A blade of divine light carved upward, splitting his claw into thousands of fragments. The shockwave traveled up his arm, tearing apart part of his forearm. Hajack screamed in pain as the pieces of his claw scattered across the tomb.

And standing amidst the blood, wreathed in radiance, was Metatron.

He no longer bore Gungnir in his hand. Now he gripped a sword. His face was pale, his lips bleeding, but his eyes burned with cold determination. He sneered at Hajack, inhaled deeply, and whispered words that shook the air.

"Excalibur... Final Radiance State."

The weapon trembled. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. Then light erupted, searing, radiant, all-consuming. The sword’s true power was unleashed, no longer restrained.

Hajack’s eyes widened in horror. He tried to move, but it was too late.

Metatron swung the strongest sword of his arsenal with all the might of his body and soul.

The slash of radiance split through the Demon Lord’s chest, tearing through muscle and bone alike. Blood fountained, painting the battlefield crimson as Hajack was hurled backward. His massive body crashed into the earth, leaving behind a scar that shook the tomb.

Metatron staggered. His body trembled violently, his life force burning like a candle nearly spent. Even his soul seemed to waver, the price of wielding Excalibur’s true power gnawing at his essence. But his gaze was unyielding. He turned toward his final opponent.

The Devil Lord froze. For the first time in countless years, he felt true terror. The aura around Metatron was death incarnate, the scythe of execution hanging over his neck. Without hesitation, he spun, attempting to flee.

But fate gave him no mercy.

Metatron raised Excalibur one final time. The sword shattered in his hands, but in its destruction it unleashed a final beam of radiant light. The beam pierced forward with unstoppable speed, reaching Orous in an instant.

The Devil Lord screamed as the light cleaved him from head to waist, sundering his body in half. Blood and fire exploded outward as his body fell to the ground.