Hell’s 9

The ocean raged with unfathomable fury as two titans clashed upon its surface. Yeldor and Dracon collided like living cataclysms, their fists birthing shockwaves that split the seas and churned tsunamis into the sky. Each blow detonated with the magnitude of a nuclear blast, sending violent tremors across coastlines hundreds of kilometers away. Cities evacuated. Oceans fled. The world trembled.

A brutal uppercut from Dracon plunged into Yeldor's abdomen, lifting him from the sea like a missile. He soared upward into the storm-wracked sky, gasping for breath—and then Dracon followed, soaring like a dragon loosed from the abyss. He met Yeldor mid-air and drove a devastating punch into his chest, sending him skipping across the water's surface for miles, his body shattering waves like glass.

But Yeldor found his footing. Skidding backward atop the ocean's surface, he clapped his hands together, summoning an invisible barrier of zail energy. Wind shrieked as Dracon bore down on him like a warhead—and then collided with the shield. The impact unleashed a sonic boom so loud it silenced thunder. The heavens wept lightning. The sea cried out in protest.

Above, the sky coiled inward like a beast in pain. Clouds twisted into a serpent-shaped cyclone, a titanic hurricane that opened its maw and devoured Dracon whole. Inside, lightning carved into him like divine whips, and for a moment, it seemed the tide had turned. Yeldor stood triumphant, a cruel smile stretched across his face.

But the storm didn't last.

It ended with a single shockwave—a sphere of power so absolute it ripped the hurricane apart and vaporized it skyward. The sky cleared in an instant. The sun shone through blue once more. The aftershock rolled across continents like an echo of a forgotten god.

And above it all, Dracon hovered.

His form was no longer human. Now, he was something ancient and terrible—a humanoid dragon with obsidian scales, burning eyes, and wings that spread wide enough to blot out the sun. Power radiated from him like heat from a star.

Yeldor's smile vanished. In its place: anxiety.

Elsewhere, far from the ocean's fury, another battle reached its boiling point.

Osmos faced off against Namaah, and though her beauty cloaked a soul steeped in cruelty, her strength was undeniable.

Without warning, Osmos vanished and reappeared behind her, a strike already in motion. But Namaah sensed it—barely. She twisted away and countered with a fire-imbued punch that blasted him across the barriered terrain. He ricocheted off the ground, but before he could land fully, he vanished again—only to reappear mid-air, another attack launched.

Parried.

Her fist spiraled into his gut, launching him into the roof of the barrier. A boulder, wrapped in zail, followed in hot pursuit—but he dodged just in time, slamming back onto the barrier's ceiling and reforming his stance.

Osmos was stunned.

How is she predicting every move? he thought. Even with teleportation…

But he had no time to dwell. A massive fireblast surged toward him. He escaped through teleportation—but the moment he rematerialized, spears of ice armored with zail impaled his side.

He gasped, coughing blood.

Namaah's voice rang out, cruel and final.

"Even when you teleport, the very moment you try to attack—I sense you. You can't hit me. This fight is over. You died a shameful death."

She turned from him, already walking away.

But then—the world shifted.

The air thickened. The zail grew heavy, palpable. The battlefield quaked.

She turned again—and Osmos was gone.

No… in front of her.

"I killed you. How are you still alive?" she hissed.

He smiled, blood dripping from his chin.

"It's a miracle," he said, eyes glowing faintly. "Thanks to the power of the Divine."

He lunged.

Namaah unleashed a barrage of elemental fury—fire, ice, rock, wind—each attack powered by zail. But they bent in the air. Twisted. Then, in a brilliant flash, they reversed course and fired back at her.

Shock painted her face.

"Impossible…"

She responded with rage. Her eyes blazed neon blue, and the elements around her swirled into a violent, all-consuming vortex. Zail-infused rock bullets shot at light-speed toward Osmos, lightning in web-like patterns trailing behind them. He vanished—again and again—evading every attack.

"Is this your plan?! Being a coward and evading?! Attack me, damn it!"

Osmos paused mid-teleport and spoke, calm as stone:

"Very well."

And with a wave of his hand, her own attacks—frozen in a pocket dimension—were hurled back at her with greater force.

Namaah countered, commanding them mid-air. Zail crackled as she retook control and redirected the attacks back toward him. This time, they struck true. Osmos hit the ground hard.

She laughed, triumphant.

"Your tricks are growing stale. I'm done fighting this meaningless war. I just want to return to Hell and continue torturing souls."

Osmos climbed from the crater, coughing but alive.

"Then maybe we can… call it a truce?" he said, half-joking. "You say I escaped. I'll say the same. Everyone wins."

"What?! Do you know what will happen to me if I return without results?" she snapped.

"Hey, don't judge me. I don't want to be here either. You don't have to be on their side. You could join us."

"Again—stupid. What is wrong with you?!"

Osmos shrugged.

"Fine. Let's fight a gruesome battle. Or better yet—we just chill here until it's over."

"That's it! I'm ending you!"

She conjured every element at once zail-augmented fire, lightning, rock, and ice—and fired it all. Osmos braced himself, then his vision flashed.

He saw himself, suspended in time, halting the attacks mid-air.

He obeyed the vision.

And reality bent.

"Wait… I'm finally doing it!"

Namaah fired more. They halted.

"I can finally control my telekinesis."

"Telekinesis, huh?" she growled. "Let's see if it works… on this!"

She launched zail lightning, serpentine and chaotic. Osmos stopped those too. With a grin, he redirected everything back at her. She fought to retake control—but his grip was absolute. The attacks struck, engulfing her in an explosion that left a crater in the battlefield.

From the rubble, she rose—barely conscious—eyes glowing once more.

And then she summoned it.

The earth answered her call, forming a towering avatar: a colossus of rock and lava, icy spines jutting from its back, veins of lightning pulsing across its body, and a dust devil swirling in its arm. It roared with the voice of ten storms.

"Why don't you try controlling this?" she thundered, her voice fused with the avatar's.

A lava-coated fist, the size of a mountain, swept toward him.

Osmos teleported behind the titan and unleashed his stored attacks. They struck its back—but icy spines lashed out at him in return. He dodged desperately, weaving through molten punches and lightning lashes.

"Damn… I can't land a hit. I need more…"

Wind struck him from the side, spinning him downward. A lava lightning bolt followed, sizzling with zail.

"Even with Divine zail, you're still no match for me!" Namaah roared.

He fell, struggling to rise.

But then—he reached deeper.

Not into strength.

Into faith.

As her final attack charged—a punch containing wind, lightning, fire, and ice, all condensed into zail—she launched it toward him.

He raised his hand.

Then suddenly….

The avatar's arm froze mid-motion. Lightning halted mid-air. Fire dimmed. Wind stilled.

Namaah screamed in frustration:

"I… can't… move!"

"You remember what you said?" Osmos asked, calm and unyielding. "That even with Divine power, I'd never beat you?"

He stepped forward, extending his hand.

"Hate to break it to you. I'm beyond you now."

His grip—both physical and telekinetic—tightened. The avatar crumbled, collapsing under its own weight. The elements crumbled. And Namaah fell.

Hard.

As she lay broken on the battlefield, her power bleeding into the dirt, she whispered her final words:

"To think… I was bested by you…"

And then she was gone.

Osmos stood in silence for a long time.

Then, he collapsed to the ground with a heavy sigh and a shaky grin.

The battle was over.