Heavenly Opposers

The Realm Scrapper's training chamber pulsed with vitality, its walls alive with the hum of simulated realities. Azrail stood at the centre, his 11-year-old frame belying the ancient fury life this place once held.

Today, his focus was razor-sharp: honing his combat style through the raw, unadulterated power of his cultivation technique, Omega Asura's Wrath. No soul energy, no mental manipulations, no World Spirit distortions—just the primal might of fire, channelled through his body and will.

He had already refined his individual flames and their harmonies in previous sessions, but true mastery came from application in the crucible of battle. "All-Seer, initiate Combat Simulation Protocol. Phase One: Basic Flame Assault. Opponent level: Heavenly Saint Realm equivalent, adaptive," Azrail commanded, his voice steady and commanding.

[Affirmative, Master. Generating simulated adversaries. Environment set to neutral void for baseline testing. Safety thresholds engaged], All-Seer responded, its analytical tone echoing in his mind.

The chamber shifted seamlessly. The obsidian platform beneath his feet dissolved into a vast, starless void, an endless expanse where gravity was a suggestion and distances warped at whim. From the darkness, ethereal figures materialised—three humanoid constructs forged from condensed Qi, their forms flickering like mirages. They were not mere dummies; Nayan's tech imbued them with adaptive intelligence, drawing from databases of ancient battles to counter and evolve mid-fight. Each radiated the pressure of a Heavenly Saint, their auras crackling with simulated elemental affinities: one wreathed in storm winds, another in earthen armour, the third pulsing with watery illusions.

Azrail didn't draw swords or summon shadows. This was about fire alone. He centred himself, drawing on the core verses of Omega Asura's Wrath:

"The path of the fire is to burn, but the path of the fire Asura is to do what no other fire could do." His Qi surged, converting the ambient energy into churning rivers of Fire Qi. The eleven ethereal fire circles within his soulscape hummed, though only two were fully awakened. He started simple, channelling raw flame without specifics.

The storm-wreathed adversary struck first, launching a barrage of wind blades that sliced through the void like invisible scythes. Azrail's response was instinctive. He ignited his basic Flame Mimicry, his body blurring into an insubstantial form of pure fire essence. No longer solid, he darted forward with explosive speed, the wind blades passing harmlessly through his flickering outline, dissipating as they met his heat. He reformed mid-leap, his right fist igniting in a vortex of crimson flames. "Inferno Strike," he muttered, slamming it into the construct's core.

The impact erupted in a bloom of fire, the flames not just burning but devouring, converting the adversary's wind Qi into fuel for their own intensification. The construct staggered, its stormy aura sizzling and weakening as Azrail's fire spread like a virus, turning its own elemental defence against it. But the other two adapted quickly—the earthen one charged with a ground-shaking stomp, sending shockwaves that distorted the void, while the watery illusionist created mirage duplicates to confuse and encircle.

Azrail twisted away, his Flame Mimicry allowing him to phase through the shockwave as if it were mist. He countered the illusions by unleashing a radial burst of heat, the flames expanding in a spherical wave that illuminated and incinerated the false images, revealing the true enemy. His cultivation technique's innate control over fire made him a natural predator here; the heat warped the watery Qi, evaporating it into steam that he then ignited into secondary explosions. The watery construct recoiled, its form bubbling and destabilising.

'Good, but predictable. Time to layer in the awakened flames individually,' Azrail thought, his eyes narrowing. He dismissed the basic flames, focusing solely on Persefone, the black flame of death and destruction. Its dark essence surged forth, coating his hands like gloves of oblivion. The earthen adversary, now reinforced with adaptive armour that absorbed impacts, lunged with a massive fist aimed at crushing him.

Azrail met it head-on, no evasion this time. As their blows connected, Persefone's black flames erupted, not with heat but with a soul-sucking void. The earthen armour cracked not from force but from decay, the black fire converting the construct's stable Qi into primordial Death Qi that eroded its structure from within. Azrail pressed the advantage, channelling Persefone into a series of rapid palm strikes—"Death's Grasp Cascade." Each contact left behind tendrils of black flame that burrowed like parasites, amplifying destruction. The adversary's movements slowed, its form crumbling as if aged a millennium in seconds. Persefone's rebellious personality thrummed in his mind, urging more annihilation, but Azrail reined it in, focusing on precision over chaos.

The remaining constructs converged, the reformed storm one summoning a tornado infused with the watery illusions for a combined assault. Winds howled, carrying deceptive mirages that hid razor-sharp vortices. Azrail switched seamlessly to Astrid, the purple flame of nobility and spirituality. Its regal energy enveloped him, forming a majestic cloak that shimmered with purple hues. Unlike Persefone's raw hunger, Astrid's presence brought a sense of commanding order, its flames burning away impurities and shadows.

As the tornado engulfed him, Azrail stood firm. Astrid's cloak expanded, the purple flames swirling outward in a counter-vortex. They didn't clash destructively; instead, they purified, burning the deceptive illusions and dispersing the watery elements with spiritual authority. The storm construct faltered, its winds calming under Astrid's noble influence, as if compelled to bow. Azrail capitalised, thrusting forward with "Regal Flame Lance"—a concentrated beam of purple fire that pierced the core, not just destroying but elevating the destruction to something almost artistic, leaving behind a trail of ethereal sparks that symbolised spiritual transcendence over chaos.

The simulation paused briefly as the adversaries reformed, evolving to higher difficulty. [Phase Two: Advanced Integration. Opponents are now resistant to basic flame types. Proceed with caution,] All-Seer warned.

Azrail nodded, sweat beading on his brow from the mental and Qi exertion. He delved deeper into Omega Asura's Wrath, activating a partial Infernal Form without relying on the domain yet. Crimson symbols blazed on his forehead, his skin glowing with fiery intensity, hair streaking black and purple. His body became a conduit of vengeance, radiating heat that warped the void around him. The constructs, now four in number with added fire-resistant adaptations, charged as one—storm, earth, water, and a new void-based one that absorbed light.

In this form, Azrail's movements are amplified. He blurred forward, his enhanced speed from Flame Mimicry combined with the form's raw power. Against the void construct, he unleashed Persefone again, its black flames clashing against the absorption field. But in Infernal Form, Persefone's death aspect intensified, turning the absorption into overload—the construct's field sucked in too much destructive essence, imploding from within. Azrail followed with a spinning kick infused with Astrid, the purple flames forming a regal arc that swept through the storm and water duo, purifying their elements and forcing them into disarray.

The earthen one adapted, growing spikes of reinforced Qi to impale him. Azrail phased through them via Flame Mimicry, reforming behind it and slamming both palms forward in a dual-flame assault—Persefone in his left for decay, Astrid in his right for purification. The combination, even individually channelled, created a devastating synergy: the black flame rotted the armour, while the purple sealed the cracks with burning nobility, preventing regeneration. The construct shattered in a spectacular display, fragments igniting into nothingness.

Hours blurred in the timeless chamber. Azrail pushed further, isolating techniques for combat refinement. He practised Flame Mimicry in evasion drills against a swarm of simulated projectiles, his body flickering like a Void Flame to dodge and counter with pinpoint flame bursts. Then, Shadow like flame properties for stealth assaults: dimming his presence to near-invisibility, he ambushed from the flanks, his flames emerging only at the moment of strike to maximise surprise.

Finally, he escalated to Infernal like Domain activation, warping the void into a hellscape of lava rivers and obsidian peaks. Here, the constructs struggled, their movements hindered by the environment's wrath. Azrail moved like a god among them, channelling Persefone to create death-infused lava traps that pulled enemies under, and Astrid to form spiritual barriers that reflected attacks with amplified force. One by one, they fell, adapting until the last pushed him to his limits—a fused entity combining all elements.

Azrail met it with full Infernal Form, his body a blazing inferno. He unleashed a torrent of black and purple flames, Persefone devouring its core while Astrid commanded its submission. The clash shook the simulation, ending in a cataclysmic explosion that reset the chamber.

Exhausted but exhilarated, Azrail deactivated the protocol. His combat style had sharpened—fluid, adaptive, a symphony of fire's duality. 'This is just the beginning,' he thought, the flames within pulsing in agreement. The path of the Omega Asura demanded endless refinement, and he would answer its call, but Azrail would also need to control himself and his growth towards the future of his power.

Right now the training was important, it will help him hone his powers and finally get the true output that Azrail wants.