CHAPTER 437: CHAPTER 437: REGENERATION VERSUS RADIANCE

Her combat style wasn’t the elegant dance of a martial artist, it was controlled nuclear annihilation, each strike expressing the fundamental forces of stellar creation. When she punched, she wasn’t just hitting with her fist; she was channeling the gravitational collapse that ignited suns. When she moved, she wasn’t simply changing position; she was demonstrating the cosmic forces that moved planets in their orbits.

"You think your light can banish the void?" Azaroth snarled, his composure beginning to slip as fear bled into desperate fury. "I am eternal darkness! I existed before your precious stars were even dreamed of!"

He unleashed torrents of corrupted flame, drawing on reserves of abyssal power that had sustained him through countless battles across multiple worlds. The shadow-fire was potent enough to melt continents and incinerate the souls of entire civilizations. It carried within it the concentrated malice of the abyss, the fundamental hatred that existed at the heart of entropy itself.

The Sun Empress swept it aside like morning mist dissipated by dawn.

Her counterattack was immediate and devastating. A lance of pure solar energy, concentrated to the width of a needle but containing the power of a star going nova, pierced through Azaroth’s chest. The demon’s regeneration immediately began working, but for a crucial moment, his form flickered and wavered.

"Impressive healing," she acknowledged with the clinical interest of a force of nature observing a particularly resilient microbe. "But let us see how well you recover from true solar fire."

She pressed her attack with methodical precision, each strike designed not just to damage but to overwhelm his regenerative capabilities. Solar flares erupted from her hands, creating miniature coronal mass ejections that should have been impossible to generate in atmosphere. The temperature around them climbed toward the fusion threshold, turning the very air into plasma.

But despite her overwhelming superiority, Azaroth’s regeneration kept him in the fight. Every wound she inflicted, and there were many, each one capable of destroying lesser demons entirely, healed within moments. His flesh knitted back together with disturbing efficiency, his shadow-fire reformed around new wounds, his strength returned as if drawn from an inexhaustible well.

"You can hurt me, Empress," he said, his professional mask slipping further to reveal the desperate calculation beneath. "But you cannot kill what the Mother has blessed. This battle serves only to drain your finite power while mine remains constant. I am attrition warfare personified."

It was true, and they both knew it. The Sun Empress was winning decisively in every exchange, but each devastating attack required enormous energy output. Her divine power, while vast, was not infinite. Azaroth’s regeneration was turning this into a war of endurance, one he was specifically designed to win.

The demon began to fight more defensively, using his regeneration as a tactical advantage. He would allow seemingly fatal wounds in order to land counterstrikes, confident that he could heal while she could not afford to maintain this level of output indefinitely.

"You fight like a mortal," he taunted, his burned and regenerating flesh already beginning to show less damage from her attacks. "All power, no patience. But true immortals understand that victory goes to those who can endure."

Protected by the radiance of her Empress, Elara began the slow process of recovery. Her natural regeneration, enhanced by her fire blessing and the ambient solar energy, gradually restored some measure of strength to her battered body. The internal bleeding slowed, the tremors in her hands lessened, and she could breathe without the sensation of drowning.

From her position at the crater’s edge, she witnessed true divine combat for the first time in her life. The Sun Empress moved like living sunlight given form, each action expressing cosmic forces that mortals weren’t meant to comprehend. It was beautiful and terrible and awe-inspiring in ways that redefined her understanding of power itself.

But her tactical mind, sharpened by years of strategic command and countless battles, identified the critical flaw in their situation with growing alarm.

She’s using too much power, Elara realized, watching the Empress’s attacks grow incrementally less radiant with each exchange. That thing is designed to outlast her. Perfect regeneration versus finite divine energy. It’s a losing proposition.

The calculation were brutal but clear. Even if the Sun Empress could maintain this level of output for hours, Azaroth only needed to survive until her reserves were depleted. Then the roles would reverse, and a weakened goddess would face a fully restored Infernal Knight.

Unless...

The solution crystallized in her mind with perfect clarity, a strategy born from desperate necessity and intimate knowledge of their shared blessings.

If he can regenerate endlessly, then we need power that exceeds regeneration itself. Not more of the same force, something fundamentally different. Quality over quantity. Transcendence over mere strength.

Elara reached out with her fire blessing, seeking the connection that linked all those blessed by solar power. It was an ability she’d never fully explored, something that existed more in theory than practice. But theory would have to suffice.

Golden threads of energy began forming between her and the Sun Empress, invisible to the naked eye but blazing with potential that made the air around them sing with harmonic resonance.

I won’t let you fight alone, Your Majesty. Not when I can tip the scales.

Azaroth’s endless regeneration was beginning to show its strategic value. The Sun Empress’s attacks, while devastating beyond mortal comprehension, were drawing on finite reserves of divine power. Her radiance dimmed slightly, not to weakness, but from the sustained energy output required to battle a Knight of the Supreme Curia.

The demon sensed the shift with predatory instincts honed over millennia of warfare. He pressed his advantage with renewed aggression, his strikes coming faster and with greater desperation. If he could push her past the point of sustainable output, victory would be his.

"Growing tired, Empress?" he mocked, allowing one of her solar lances to pierce his shoulder in order to land a clawed strike across her torso. "Divine power has its limits, but the abyss is eternal."