The battle raged on, the Grand Canyon transformed into a warzone of death and destruction. Wizards and witches held the high ground positioned inside the canyon walls, their defenses no longer crumbling but holding, reinforced by sheer determination and strategy. The natural rock formations of the canyon became their strongest ally—battlecasters transfigured ledges into towering bastions, conjured bridges collapsed beneath charging demons, and enchanted dust storms swallowed enemy ranks whole. The sky above crackled with magic, as spellfire clashed against divine radiance, streaks of golden light clashing with hexes and curses powerful enough to rend stone.
On the canyon floor, squads of war mages wove their magic in tandem, creating shifting barriers of obsidian and sand to funnel their enemies into kill zones. A company of ICW enforcers lined the ridges, their wands synchronized in sweeping arcs, unleashing waves of conjured shrapnel and firestorms that sent lesser demons howling in retreat. American battlecasters, trained for large-scale combat, formed layered phalanxes of enchanted shields, rotating between offense and defense in a brutal, calculated dance of survival.
Yet the enemy was relentless. Angels soared above, diving like harbingers of destruction, their blades leaving trails of divine fire in the air. But they found themselves countered—witches on brooms wove through the air, flinging piercing hexes and gravity-bending spells that sent the celestial warriors careening into the canyon walls. The demons, more monstrous in form, fought with a primal, unrelenting savagery, clawing through layers of magical barriers, only to be met with walls of animated stone and transfigured spears erupting from the earth.
Azrathos stood at the center of it all his tall imposing silhouette daunted the wizards, "How do we beat him? He destroyed everything we threw at him!" one of the strategists yelled in dismay
"Just keep trying damnit!" another yelled as he looked at the enchanted map of their forces
Just then Morpheus appeared behind them his pale form drew their eyes immediately, "Come to see what you have done?" one of the wizards sneered stepping angrily toward Morpheus, "My friends are dying because of you!"
Morpheus shook his head, "You can still save them, I on the other hand already lost my family and friends to these beasts. I did not start this, they could have left these anchors alone but they didn't. Look at them! They are savoring every last kill! Are these the actions of those who wanted peace?"
His words hushed the man, "Please." he spoke softly, "Tell me you have a way to stop this."
Morpheus nodded, "I do, once they see that I'm here, Azrathos will head straight for me. After that happens I'm going to need someone to do something quite daring, Maximus Silverstein, is he here?"
Before the man could answer a figure appeared from the shadows, "I'm here."
Morpheus smiled brightly, "Good, Cassiopeia speaks highly of your skills now pay attention this next part is important."
***
The battle roared on, the air thick with the scent of scorched earth and the metallic tang of blood. Magic arched through the sky, bolts of transfigured rock and torrents of cursed fire lashing against divine light. The wizards had regained ground, their defensive line now a brutal wall of shifting stone and overlapping shields, but the enemy forces were relentless.
Then, a ripple of energy coursed through the battlefield.
A new presence had arrived.
Morpheus stepped onto the field, his dark robes billowing in the wind, the unnatural glow of the Stone of Dreams in his chest pulsing faintly beneath his skin. His arrival did not go unnoticed.
Azrathos turned, his piercing golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto the pale figure standing amidst the chaos. A sneer curled across his lips, a low, guttural growl escaping his throat. "You."
The ground trembled beneath each step as Azrathos began moving toward Morpheus, his massive form cutting through the battlefield like a force of nature. He swung a brutal clawed hand, tearing through a squad of ICW enforcers, their bodies flung aside like ragdolls. Spells rebounded uselessly against his armor-like skin. A witch leaped forward, attempting to transfigure the air around him into chains, but before the spell could take full form, Azrathos lashed out, his blade slicing cleanly through her chest. She crumpled, dead before she hit the ground.
He kept moving, his fury singular, his pace unrelenting. The battlefield seemed to part around him, wizards and witches scrambling to reposition, to find a new way to halt the approaching monster. But it was futile.
Morpheus, however, stood his ground. He walked forward slowly, his expression unreadable, his violet eyes locked onto the advancing demon.
"You always did run from a fair fight, Morpheus," Azrathos snarled.
Morpheus tilted his head, a smirk ghosting across his lips. "And yet you still look like a dog chasing after a bone."
Azrathos roared, and in an instant, he lunged.
Morpheus moved like smoke, sidestepping the vicious strike, his body slipping through the air as though he were weightless. Azrathos followed up with a brutal swipe, his claws raking through the space Morpheus had occupied a split second before. The demon's attacks came in a relentless flurry—slashes, thrusts, bursts of infernal energy—but each time, Morpheus twisted out of reach, his movements frustratingly effortless.
The battle around them continued to rage, but wizards and demons alike found themselves glancing toward the duel unfolding at the center of it all.
Azrathos growled in frustration, his attacks growing wilder, more aggressive. "Stop running!"
Morpheus ducked under another swipe, his fingers barely grazing the dirt before he surged forward, his wand flicking. A ripple of energy surged outward, slamming into Azrathos' side, forcing him back a step.
And in that moment—an instant so brief it was almost imperceptible—Maximilius Silverstein struck.
A flicker of movement. A razor-thin blade gliding through the air. A single, precise cut.
Azrathos barely felt it. A sting along his arm. A wound so shallow it hardly seemed worth noticing.
And yet, in that fraction of a second, the blood that had been drawn was gone—spirited away by an enchantment woven into the very steel of Maximilius' blade.
Azrathos didn't have time to process it.
Because the moment his focus wavered, Morpheus was on him.
Spells erupted from his wand in rapid succession—blades of pure force, tendrils of obsidian magic snaking around Azrathos' limbs, bursts of fire that twisted in unnatural patterns, seeking the weaknesses in the demon's form. Azrathos barely had time to defend himself, his monstrous strength now being met with Morpheus's own.
"That's more like it!" Azrathos yelled in glee as he pounced once more and Morpheus dodged his pale face even paler than usual
But his grin remained
"You know what the problem is with you lot? You always think toppling one person is better than the whole. I like to go for the whole myself." Morpheus spoke softly as he conjured a veil of smoke to disguise their battle
The battle wizards began to pull back inside the canyon following orders from the top.
Anzarthos snarled his human form stretching into something truly demonic as he rushed forward to meet Morpheus head-on.
Not even noticing the sound-dampening charm layered inside the smoke.
***
Azrathos stepped out of the smoke with a triumphant grin. He effortlessly made his way back to his side of the battle, "ALL TROOPS, MORPHEUS IS DEAD CHARGE FORWARD KILL THEM ALL!"
The angels began to swoop down forgoing their height advantage and rush toward the canyon depths.
The remaining hidden demons rushed from the ground and the shadows blindly following the orders.
And the smoke cleared showing the melting form of Morpheus and a confused Azrathos.
"RUSH IN FULL STRENGTH BREAK THE ANCHOR!" The hulking Azrathos heard his own voice and frowned turning to see himself issuing orders to rush in
'Azrathos' turned to meet the real him and grinned.
Oh it was such a familiar grin.