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Jason didn't rush the arena.
He walked.
Slow. Measured. Each step deliberate, boots scraping against scorched stone like the ticking of a clock counting down someone else's lifespan.
The crowd's roar dulled into a distant murmur. Demons who had howled through every previous match now watched in uneasy silence. Even Hell, loud and vulgar and perpetually hungry, seemed to lower its voice.
Because Satan was already there.
Waiting.
He stood at the center of the arena with his hands behind his back, posture relaxed, almost polite.
And the ground beneath him… died.
Jason noticed it immediately.
Every step Satan took left a stain. Stone blackened. Cracked. Withered like rotten fruit. The arena floor didn't burn.
It decayed.
Like time itself had passed over it and decided it was done.
Not destruction.
Expiration.
Jason's throat tightened.
…What is this pressure?
He had fought monsters. Slaughtered heroes, Gods....and Stood in Lucifer's presence without blinking.
But this?
This wasn't killing intent.
This was inevitability.
Every instinct in his body whispered the same thing.
Don't fight.
Run.
Hide.
Plan.
Survive.
Anything but walk forward.
The realization irritated him more than the fear itself.
'Since when do I hesitate?'
He stopped ten meters away.
Satan finally looked up.
For the first time since the tournament began, the First of the Fallen spoke.
"Heir of Lucifer…"
His voice wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
It slipped into the air like cold water down the spine, quiet and absolute.
"Satan," Jason replied.
Their eyes met.
And Jason felt it.
Pinned.
Not by power.
By truth.
"Are you afraid?" Satan asked.
Direct. Casual. Like asking about the weather.
Jason opened his mouth to deny it.
Nothing came out.
Because lying would feel stupid.
"…Yeah," he admitted under his breath.
And that scared him more.
Why?
He had faced Lucifer himself. The Morningstar. The Lightbringer.
And never once had his heart stuttered like this.
So why this man?
"Do you know why you're afraid?" Satan asked.
This time it wasn't rhetorical.
He wanted an answer.
Jason exhaled slowly, forcing his pulse to settle.
"Because you're strong," he said. "Stronger than anything I've fought."
His hands flexed.
"But that doesn't matter. I'm here. Win or lose, I fight."
Satan studied him for a moment.
Then chuckled softly.
"I have seen many say those words."
His gaze sharpened.
"They all died."
The air grew heavier.
"Death… is final," Satan continued. "Not dramatic. Not negotiable. Final."
He tilted his head slightly.
"My original name carried weight in Heaven. On Earth. Even here."
Jason frowned.
Satan smiled faintly.
"I was Azrael."
The name hit the arena like a falling cathedral.
Several demons physically recoiled.
"The Angel of Death," Satan said calmly. "The one who ends stories. The last voice you hear before nothing."
Jason's eyes narrowed.
"...."
"I refused my purpose," Satan went on, ignoring him. "I rejected humanity. Rejected the idea that these fragile creatures deserved inheritance over creation. For that… I was discarded."
His voice didn't carry anger.
Just… exhaustion.
"I chose exile. Chose Hell. And still… I was forgotten."
His lips curled.
"I made demons what they are. And now they worship others. Call others their kings."
A low laugh escaped him.
"So tell me… why should I care about preserving any of it?"
Black fire began dripping from his hands.
Thick.
Like tar.
The moment it touched the ground, it ignited.
A ring of flame exploded outward, forming a dome around them, sealing the arena like a burning cage.
"I will reset everything," Satan said softly. "Hell. The planes. All of it."
His eyes locked onto Jason.
"So I'll ask again, heir of Lucifer…"
The temperature dropped despite the flames.
"Why are you afraid?"
Jason didn't answer.
He acted.
"Domain Expansion."
Cursed energy detonated outward.
"Malevolent Shrine."
The world inverted.
The fiery dome vanished, replaced by endless black water reflecting a blood red sky. Countless corpses floated beneath the surface. A shrine rose behind Jason like a monument to slaughter.
This was his territory.
His law.
Inside this space, every strike was guaranteed.
Satan looked around, intrigued.
"A domain," he said. "A reality where your will is absolute. Your attacks cannot miss."
He smiled.
"And yet… you already know."
Jason's jaw tightened.
Don't hesitate.
"Dimensional Slash."
The cut tore through space itself, a fracture that ignored durability, matter, even existence. A perfect execution.
It hit clean.
Satan split in half.
From shoulder to hip.
A flawless divide.
For a second, victory tasted real.
Then
Black flame stitched him back together.
Not regeneration.
Correction.
Like reality rejecting an error.
Satan stood whole again.
Smiling.
"Death cannot be cut," he said gently. "It cannot be deleted. It is not something that happens."
The black fire spread from his feet.
"It is something that is."
The flames touched the water.
The ocean evaporated.
Touched the corpses.
They turned to ash.
Touched the shrine.
It began to crack.
Jason's eyes widened.
'Wait'
"No…"
The sure-hit effect flickered.
Then vanished.
His domain.
Burning.
Erasing.
Not overpowering.
Erasing.
Like it had never existed.
Satan's body became a silhouette of pure black fire, flames bleeding endlessly from his skin.
"Everything contains death," he said, voice echoing from everywhere at once. "Reality. Life. You."
He took one step forward.
The world around Jason disintegrated.
"And I…"
The shrine collapsed behind him.
"…am yours."
The domain shattered like glass.
And the black flames rushed toward Jason's face.
Jason's body twisted midair, muscles straining, heart hammering against the cage of his ribs. He dodged the infernal flames licking through the air, fire that shouldn't have been dodged fire that shouldn't have been possible to survive. Every leap, every evasive movement, felt like moving through syrup. Distance was an illusion. Each attempt to escape, each desperate surge forward, was swallowed before it could exist.
He clenched his teeth, cursed energy boiling under his skin. The flames weren't just fire they were judgment, erasing existence itself. He couldn't afford the luxury of a spectacular domain this time. Not one that extended outward. Instead, he channeled the cursed energy inward, compressing it around his own flesh. A Domain inside himself, a fragile orb of resistance, keeping him alive in a storm that sought to unmake him. It didn't nullify the fire entirely, it would never last, but it gave him the fraction of a heartbeat he needed.
Jason's eyes narrowed. He couldn't strike at the flames. He had to strike at him. At the core. At the thread that bound existence to this being who had just seemed… unstoppable.
"Soul… Slash," he whispered, voice hoarse but filled with grim determination.
The attack wasn't meant to touch the fire. It ignored it. It pierced through the facade and aimed at the essence. The soul itself, the eternal thread of what Azrael had become, of what Satan had pretended to be.
Time seemed to slow. The flames recoiled, screaming in defiance. The very air around them shrieked. Jason's attack struck with the precision of inevitability. It dug through layers of power, magic, and curses. And when it hit, it split the core, the eternal soul of Satan, right down the center.
For a moment, there was silence.
The black flames evaporated like mist under sunlight. Jason plummeted to the ground, carried only by the recoil of the energy he had unleashed. His lungs burned, his limbs trembled, his cursed energy screaming in protest. And yet, the figure of Satan… stood motionless.
Jason coughed blood, feeling the taste metallic in his mouth, and rasped, "I… have… overcome… death…"
The thought barely formed before the world tilted.
A white and black conflagration tore through the arena, burning not just the air but the very concept of it. The flames shifted, twisting into a violent dance of creation and annihilation. From the chaos, a new figure emerged, massive, towering, and impossibly alien. Eight wings stretched out behind him, each feather radiating piercing light. His body was dark, completely covered, yet every contour shimmered with a truth beyond shadow. The hood lifted slightly, revealing a face composed entirely of light, but where the eyes should have been, there was only void. Nothing.
Azrael.
Jason froze. The sheer force radiating from the being erased all thought. Not death. Not power. Existence itself bent around him, and yet Azrael moved as if he were merely walking through a corridor.
The scythe appeared in his hands like it had been forged from the darkness between stars. Flames licked the blade, black as void yet glowing with every echo of creation and finality. He raised it slowly, deliberately, and fixed his gaze on Jason.
"Death… is soulless," Azrael said. The voice was both everywhere and nowhere, echoing in every corner of Jason's mind, in every beat of his heart.
Before Jason could even react, the scythe struck. It didn't slash. It didn't cut. It reaped.
The sensation was nothing like pain. Pain would have been mercy. This was the removal of self. His soul trembled as it was torn away, a thread unraveling through the infinite. His vision went white and black at once. The ground fell away. His limbs flailed. Air became nothing. Light became nothing. He could feel the echo of his existence, and then… nothing.
Jason understood it with terrifying clarity.
He was dead.
/*\
If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Shadow Monarch in Danmachi!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !