Heavenly Opposers

The Realm Scrapper shifted. It did not hum, it did not glow — it howled like a beast torn from the marrow of creation. Reality folded in on itself, layers of dimensions colliding until the chamber was no longer a room but an arena of impossible chaos.

Gravity flipped with each breath. Shards of molten sky rained sideways. Islands of broken reality crashed together like tectonic drums. Nayan's twisted genius had gone further than Azrail asked: this was not just a training field, this was a stage of annihilation. And waiting at its heart, birthed from simulation hell, stood his opponent.

The Abyss Sovereign.

A living paradox, a black hole in humanoid form, shadows writhing for limbs, eyes devouring light like twin suns collapsing into themselves. Its aura did not merely press down on Azrail; it bent time, dragging each heartbeat into syrup. This thing was not simulated to be beaten. It was simulated to break him.

"All-Seer," Azrail whispered, lips curling into a grin that was half madness, half joy. "Max it out. Make this thing my worst fever dream come true."

[Affirmative, Master. Symphony Integration Protocol engaged. Adversary calibration: Apocalypse-tier. Survival probability: 7%. Enjoy the concert.]

Azrail rolled his shoulders, his 11-year-old frame humming like a compressed star. "Seven percent? That's generous. Let's rock."

The Opening Notes

The Sovereign struck first — no warning, no buildup. Its shadow-limbs lashed outward, exploding into voids that erased whatever they touched. Entire floating islands collapsed into nothingness, swallowed without resistance.

Azrail's response was instantaneous. [Mind Split] fractured his consciousness into four:

Conductor — smoothing energy flows with Soul Power.

Offense — orchestrating flames, blades, and shadows.

Defense — predicting, bending, countering.

Improviser — wild instincts, the madness that saved him before.

World Spirit Energy flared, calm and blue, the strings of his cosmic orchestra. "Distort Cascade." Reality bent. The Sovereign's limbs looped back on themselves like snakes eating their tails, but the entity adapted, flooding them with anti-reality essence that shattered the distortion outright.

Pressure surged. Azrail grinned wider.

Dance of Flames

He blurred into Flame Mimicry, body dissolving into Omega Asura's Wrath fire. Astrid burst from his right palm in regal purple, forming a cloak that burned shadows like morning sun. Persefone erupted from his left in black deathfire, tendrils latching onto one shadow-limb.

"Death's Grasp Cascade!"

The limb withered, crumbling into primordial dust. But the Sovereign roared, regenerating instantly, entropy feeding on death itself.

Azrail snarled and overlaid Soul Power — weaving pure essence into Resonance Shields around the limb, bouncing the regeneration back as harmonic feedback. The limb didn't heal. It exploded, dark matter scattering like confetti.

The Sovereign did not slow.

Temporal Barrage

The beast's maw opened, vomiting a storm of temporal meteors. Each rock carried centuries within it — touch meant aging into dust.

Azrail's mental realm surged. "Dreamscaping Deluxe!" He caught the meteors in a nightmare loop — time spinning endlessly inside his dream-trap. Then he spiced it up: infused Astrid's regal flame into the dream.

The result: a Regal Nightmare Cloak. The meteors ignited with noble purple, burning their own timelines away, purifying themselves.

The Sovereign swatted the dream apart with a wave of entropy. Azrail hissed through his teeth — this thing shredded techniques like toys.

Shadows Join the Symphony

"Raven! Ravenna!"

His shadows erupted from beneath his feet. Raven, sharp-eyed and lethal, split into illusionary doubles laced with Mental Echoes, leading the Sovereign's next attack into a trap of false trails.

Ravenna, hungry and reckless, devoured the remnants of those echoes, mimicking Persefone's death touch for a brief window. She pounced, her claws carving a trench of oblivion across one of the Sovereign's massive limbs.

For the first time, the Abyss Sovereign reeled.

Azrail barked a laugh. "Good girls."

The Soul Sucker

The Sovereign's eyes pulsed. Soul-sucking gaze. Azrail's core tugged like a puppet on strings, his essence being pulled out through his ribs.

"Not today." He flipped Devourer of Souls in reverse, turning his devouring force outward. Soul energy surged, echoing the gaze back with Sovereign Mind Bind layered in.

The Sovereign's own pull looped, dragging at its essence. But then it split — fractal clones tearing from its body, each spewing chaos like fountains.

Azrail's [Record and Analyze] pinged. Patterns decoded. Weakness: fragile stability in their fractal links.

He called forth the Cosmic Sword Domain. Millions of sentient swords filled the sky, each blade humming with hunger. But he wove World Spirit Alter into them, converting steel into reality-rifts. Each slash tore not at flesh, but at existence.

Dual-wielding echoes of the Blade of Worlds, Azrail moved. Left-handed dominance slicing dimensions, right-hand twisting fate. Clones shattered like broken mirrors.

Symphony of Horrors

The real Sovereign swelled, gravity condensing into a crushing black hole aura. Azrail's ribs creaked, blood running from his nose.

He snapped the baton. "Symphony of Horrors!"

Soul Power smoothed. Flames howled — Persefone and Astrid spinning into a vortex of black and purple. World Spirit warped space around them into spirals. Mental Energy injected fear, visions of cosmic annihilation. Shadows harried from all angles, swords rifted dimensions into ribbons.

One clone imploded, screaming in psychological agony. The Sovereign devoured it, growing even bigger.

"Perfect," Azrail spat blood. "Now you're worth killing."

Infernal Form

He surged into Infernal Form. Crimson Asura symbols flared on his skin, body blazing into living inferno streaked black and purple. The arena warped into his Infernal Domain: rivers of lava, obsidian peaks, skies of ash.

Within it, he layered a mental snare — "Puzzle Pulsar" — paradox loops that trapped the Sovereign in contradictions. For a moment, the behemoth's movements stuttered, slowed.

Azrail pounced. Dimensional Blade Mastery carved rifts that pulled meteors down as ammunition. He devoured a sliver of the Sovereign's essence mid-slash, stealing temporary anti-reality resistance. Then he used a mental trick — Fate Flip — rewriting the beast's next attack into a self-inflicted wound.

The Sovereign roared, staggering as its own limb crushed into its chest.

Entropy Horde

Enraged, the monster unleashed a swarm of entropy minions — each a snapping black hole with teeth. Hundreds. Thousands.

Azrail's eyes gleamed. "Crescendo time."

He called Unity Inferno Bind. Soul Power as conductor. All eleven flame circles pulsed — even dormant ones flickering weakly. Flames merged with Mental Sirens that lured minions into clusters. World Spirit twisted their gravity together. Shadows devoured stragglers. Cosmic swords impaled cores.

Explosions lit the void like cosmic fireworks. The Sovereign fused the survivors into a single Oblivion Beam, a torrent of pure annihilation.

The Final Note

Azrail's body screamed. Muscles tore, soul trembled, mind cracked. He had seconds.

"Harmonize or bust."

He centered. Soul Energy as baton. Qi from Omega Asura's Wrath as drums. Mental clarity as winds. World Spirit as strings. Shadows as woodwinds. Flames as choirs. Swords as brass. Death as bass.

The full Symphony Connected roared.

He unleashed Infernal Symphony Strike. A beam of black-purple fire laced with death Qi, distorted to curve around defenses, mentally echoed to multiply, soul-shielded for endurance, sword-infused for sharpness.

Beam met Beam. The clash birthed stars, shockwaves cracking even the simulated dimension.

Azrail screamed, pouring everything — love, wrath, obsession, destiny. His blue internal sword from Torex tore free, merging with the strike. Centuriarch Cascade — a rain of realm-cutting blades.

The Sovereign cracked. Fractured. Shattered in a nova of annihilation.

Aftermath

Silence.

Azrail collapsed to one knee, Infernal Form flickering out. His body shook, steam rising. Blood dripped from eyes and ears. He was smiling.

"Symphony… connected."

The Realm Scrapper dimmed, resetting. But the echo of the battle lingered. He had not just survived. He had proven it: his orchestra of powers could face even the unthinkable.

And deep in his chest, his World Spirit Core pulsed like a drum. The ocean of spirits whispered: "This is only rehearsal. The true concert is yet to come."

Azrail laughed hoarsely, wiping blood with the back of his hand. "Then let the cosmos sell tickets. I'll make it a performance they never forget."

Azrail was itching closer, he was blessed with several powerd and controlling them wasn't easy, he could focus on his evolution goals but that also won't be easy to do, without mastering what he already has, it would be impossible to move forward anymore.

'I am itching closer though'

Azrail thought, his mind humming through ideas, right now he is focusing thorugh these gifts but there still remains several other powers to touch, mainly being Death itself, his main power and his greatest gift.

Azrail need to wave through it, break the layers that cover over him, he is called the Prince of Death, then for it to be active, he also needs to understand it all too, for with that title comes powers far beyond any normal imaginations.