Orion continued to swing his scythe, but now, the Death-Soul tendrils of his avatar activated with a new purpose. They erupted from his body, not to form a shield, but to weave and fuse into a solid, spherical cocoon of writhing shadow, sealing him within.

Just as it solidified, the green firestorm was upon him. Specks of emerald flame spattered against the tendril-shield.

"Burn! Burn for your heresy!" Morvain’s voice echoed from the inferno. "You dare to shelter the Scourge Wardens? Then you will face the judgment of the Doomguard! Insects like you belong in the pyre!"

The specks of fire became torrents. The entire green vortex began to contract, collapsing all of its apocalyptic flame onto the Deathly Soul-Reaper. The tendrils, like dry grass, were instantly incinerated.

This elemental fire was a hard counter. Orion realized instantly that hiding inside the cocoon was a fatal mistake; it was just giving the fire more fuel, increasing the surface area for it to consume. The rate of destruction far outpaced any regeneration he was capable of.

He didn’t hesitate. Orion decisively retracted the unburnt tendrils and braced himself, allowing the full, undiluted force of the green flames to wash over his body.

"Hahaha! So it is the Tentacles of Death! Of all the bad luck, you ran right into your hard counter!" Morvain’s laughter was wild and unrestrained. Now that he was this close, he could clearly identify the nature of Orion’s avatar.

The Death-Soul race was powerful, no doubt. But the Doomguard’s Apocalypse Flame was their natural predator, just as the Scourge Wardens were the natural predators of certain abyssal species. Of course, the Death-Soul race had other branches. A Steel-Soul Spirit, a master of flame, would have laughed this off. A Soul-Devouring Reaper could have detonated its own soul-mass in a blast that would have crippled or even killed Morvain. But his Deathly Soul-Reaper... it had its weaknesses.

"You’re celebrating a bit early," Orion’s voice replied, eerily calm from within the emerald inferno.

He was right, the damage was catastrophic. If he couldn’t extinguish this Apocalypse Flame soon, this avatar would be burned down to nothing. But Orion knew panic was useless.

"Hehehe, you pathetic crawler!" Morvain’s voice dripped with contempt. "Taking in the Scourge Wardens, sheltering our trash... you think you’re some kind of demigod?"

"Even a true demigod would think twice before sheltering those freaks. What gives you the balls?" Morvain could feel it, could sense the avatar’s essence being consumed. "Your Deathly Soul-Reaper is burning out. It’s almost over. Hahaha!"

To him, Orion was now just a scarecrow set ablaze, moments away from collapsing into ash.

"A demigod?" Orion’s voice cut through the flames, still unnervingly level. "You think that’s such a big deal?"

At his current level of power, fledgling demigods no longer concerned him. The only beings that could still inspire true, helpless terror in him were titans among their kind, like the Great Dragon King of Light, Mondusath, or his own Commander, Thresh.

"A demigod is nothing," Orion stated flatly. "If I wanted to, I could take that step right now."

It was a total bluff. He was still leagues away from accumulating the necessary faith. Even with his Lord’s Stone already formed, the path to divinity was not so easily walked.

But the bluff landed perfectly, stunning Morvain into a momentary silence.

"Hahaha... You worthless little crawler, do you even hear yourself?" Morvain finally roared, his voice cracking with incredulous laughter. "You think the gap between an archlord and a demigod is just a ’step’? Hahahaha! Are you trying to make me die of laughter?"

To Morvain, it was as if an ant had just shaken its fist and declared war on the sky. "Your ignorance is so profound, it’s not even worthy of my pity!"

His laughter subsided, his tone turning serious, ready to deliver the final judgment. But the reply he expected never came.

Instead, Orion raised his hand, staring at the Void Scythe in his grip, now burned down to its very essence.

"Just about time," he whispered to himself, and slowly closed his eyes.

The next moment, an authority that had no place in this battle—the absolute power of a demigod’s personal Rule—descended upon his avatar.

"Is this... a Rule?" Morvain’s arrogance evaporated, replaced by sheer shock. "No... that’s... that’s impossible!"

The Apocalypse Flame pulsed erratically, trying to pull away, to escape Orion’s body. But it was too late. An unbreakable cage of pure law had already snapped shut, locking the flames to the Deathly Soul-Reaper’s form.

"Ever since I grasped my own Rule, I haven’t had a chance to truly test it," Orion’s whisper echoed in the silent inferno. "You’ll make a fine first experiment."

As he spoke, the core of his scythe began to glow. Not with light, not with fire, but with the consuming darkness of a singularity.

A terrifying gravitational pull erupted from the point where his hand gripped the weapon’s core. The Apocalypse Flame, the very essence of the proud Morvain, was violently siphoned from Orion’s body and dragged into the nascent black hole.

Orion’s Lord’s Stone was the Trident Heart. Now, using the Apocalypse Flame as his material, his demigod’s Rule as his hammer, and the Trident Heart as his anvil, he began to forge.

Sssssssss!

The green fire screamed as it was drawn out and compressed.

"No... no, please, DON’T!"

The arrogant Doomguard, Morvain, discovered to his horror that he had completely lost control of the flames that were his very being. The predator had become the offering.

"Those who stand in the way of my conquest," Orion’s voice was cold steel, "will be given no quarter."

His ’no quarter’ was the answer to Morvain’s ’purged.’ And he always kept his word.

WHOOSH!

The core of the Void Scythe, having absorbed the entirety of the Apocalypse Flame, ignited. A deep green, liquid flame flowed down the weapon’s shaft, reforming the burnt sections, making them whole and stronger than before. And at the junction of the blade and the staff, a second, razor-sharp point grew, then a third, forming a lethal spearhead.

He hadn’t sacrificed the scythe’s design; he had perfected it, adding the lethal functionality of a trident.