Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest
Chapter 436: The Fury Unleashed

Chapter 436: The Fury Unleashed

The clash of steel against radiance split the air like thunder. Maxwell’s form blazed with divine light, each movement carving arcs of brilliance that seared the earth beneath. But the six fallen angels pressed forward, their collective fury a storm that refused to break.

Zane’s twin blades sang as they carved through Maxwell’s defenses, their inverted energy drinking in the light like thirsting shadows. "Your glow’s getting dimmer, lizard!" he snarled, spinning away from a blast of radiant energy that left molten glass in the sand.

Zephyr’s whip cracked, electricity dancing along its length as it wrapped around Maxwell’s wing. He roared, golden flames erupting from his scales, but he held fast. "Victoria, now!"

The spear-wielder moved like death itself, her weapon thrusting toward his exposed flank. Maxwell twisted, the spear grazing his ribs, drawing golden ichor that hissed as it hit the ground. His backhand caught Victoria across the chest, sending her tumbling—but not falling.

"You bleed like any other pretender," Sarah whispered, her vortex expanding above them. The swirling darkness began to pull at Maxwell’s light, each photon twisted into shadow. "Your radiance has limits."

Maxwell’s eyes blazed. Six rings of light materialised behind him, each one pulsing with enough energy to level mountains. "Limits?" His voice cracked like breaking stone. "I am the heir of Bahamut’s power! I am—"

Silas’s hammer crashed into his jaw mid-sentence.

CRACK.

The impact sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Maxwell’s head snapped back, golden teeth scattering like falling stars. But even as he staggered, his hand shot forward, fingers piercing through Silas’s armor and into his chest.

"SILAS!" Morwen’s lyre shrieked a note of pure anguish. The ground buckled, the air shimmered—and Maxwell’s grip loosened just enough for Silas to wrench free, dark blood streaming down his torso.

"Still... standing," Silas growled, hefting his hammer despite the gaping wound. "Takes more than pretty lights to kill a real demon."

Maxwell’s lip curled over bloodied fangs. "Then let me show you what real power looks like."

The six rings behind him flared, and the air itself began to burn.

Above them, Bahamut’s roars grew more desperate. Garduck’s blade had carved a trench along his neck, Ifrit’s flames eating at the wound like hungry serpents. The dragon god’s movements were becoming sluggish, his once-perfect scales cracked and bleeding.

"Look how the dragon god falls," Shihan taunted, her arrows finding every gap in his defenses. "Where is your order now, great king? Where is your divine authority when mortals refuse to kneel?"

Bahamut’s eyes, once golden pools of cosmic authority, now blazed with something far more primal. Rage. Fear. The terrible realisation that his supremacy was not absolute.

"I will not... be defeated... by insects!" His breath weapon charged again, but the effort sent tremors through his massive frame. Blood leaked from his maw, staining his fangs crimson.

Garduck pressed his advantage, leaping from scale to scale like a mountain climber ascending a living cliff. Each step brought him closer to the wound that would end this. "Insects that sting, old lizard. Insects that remember every slight, every command, every moment you made us grovel."

His blade found purchase between two scales near Bahamut’s skull. The dragon thrashed, nearly throwing him off, but Ifrit was there—flames erupting to burn away the keratin holding the scale in place.

"For Adam!" Garduck roared, driving the blade deeper. "For the peace and freedom that chaos offered us!"

On the ground, Maxwell’s assault reached its crescendo. Spears of light rained from the sky like divine judgment, each one capable of boring through solid stone. The six fallen angels scattered, their formations breaking under the onslaught.

But they did not retreat.

Zane danced between the falling spears, his blades deflecting those he couldn’t dodge. Zephyr’s whip lashed out, wrapping around descending projectiles and redirecting them into the ground. Sarah’s vortex swallowed entire volleys, feeding her power even as Maxwell’s light tried to blind her.

"You think this changes anything?" Maxwell spread his arms wide, more rings of light forming around him like a crown of suns. "You’re still what you always were—demons, playing at evolution. Slaves for a pretender to a throne he’ll never deserve."

Victoria’s spear found his shoulder, punching through divine flesh with a wet crack. "Wrong," she said simply. "We’re what you made us."

For a moment, Maxwell’s radiance flickered. Not from the wound—it was barely more than a scratch to his divine constitution. But from the words. The truth in them.

They were what he had made them. What all the gods had made them. Creatures forged in suffering, tempered by oppression, driven to evolve by the very cruelty that was meant to break them.

"No," he whispered, then roared it to the heavens. "NO!"

The explosion of light that followed could be seen for miles.

When the brilliance faded, the battlefield was scarred beyond recognition. Molten sand had turned to glass, the very air still shimmering with residual energy.

Maxwell stood at the center of it all, wings spread wide, breathing hard. Around him, the six forms of his opponents lay scattered—some moving, some still.

But they were still there.

Still alive.

Still defiant.

Zane pushed himself up on one elbow, spitting blood. "That’s all you got, glow-boy?"

Zephyr’s laughter was strained but genuine. "Felt like a summer breeze."

One by one, they rose. Battered, bleeding, some barely able to stand—but rising nonetheless.

Maxwell’s hands shook. Not from exhaustion, but from something he had never felt before.

Doubt.

"Impossible," he breathed. "You should be ash. You should be—"

"Free," Sarah finished for him, her vortex reforming above her palm. "We should be free. And we are."

The six moved forward as one, no longer separate fighters but a single force of accumulated will. They had evolved beyond what they were, beyond what they had been made to be.

They had become something new.

Something that could stand against gods.

Something that could win.

Above them, Bahamut’s death cry split the sky as Garduck’s blade found its mark. The great dragon god, ruler of order and divine authority, fell from the heavens like a falling star.

And below, six demons who had dared to dream of more prepared to claim their victory over the last prince of a dying pantheon.

The age of gods was ending.

The age of mortals had begun.

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AN: If you’re not reading this on NovelFire, pls come on the platform to give power stones and rating. The book’s totally dead and earns 0. Even worse, most sites don’t even credit me as the author, so please report it to them...