The watcher's container

Despite being acutely aware of the daunting nature of the impending battle, Azrael refused to be swayed. Standing resolutely before the overwhelming power emanating from Lyra, he braced himself for what would undoubtedly be his most arduous fight yet.

"I thought you said her power was suppressed by only eighty percent," Azrael's voice echoed in Ava's mind.

"Yes, her ki was indeed suppressed by eighty percent, but it appears she has tapped into an even greater strength," Ava responded, her tone tinged with concern.

Ava's eyes carefully scanned Lyra. She searched intently for any sign of weakness or vulnerability, but her efforts proved fruitless. Lyra seemed impenetrable, devoid of any discernible opening.

"What are you doing? We should retreat. There's no chance for you to succeed," Ava urged Azrael, her voice laced with urgency.

Azrael knew deep down that Ava's words held truth. The odds were stacked against him, and victory appeared unattainable. However, he had find out, a crucial information that surpassed the significance of the mission itself.

"And what about Vanuk?" Azrael inquired, his voice heavy with determination.

"He's being shielded by that man. There's no way I can reach him now. Let's just leave," Ava informed Azrael, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation.

Taking a moment to collect himself, Azrael drew a deep breath, his gaze fixed upon Lyra. A continued surge of dark energy began to emanate from within him, gradually intensifying. Unbeknownst to all, the subtle shift in the atmosphere mirrored the brewing storm within Azrael's being.

Azrael tightened his grip on his sword, his knuckles turning white. He planted his feet firmly into the ground, feeling the earth respond to his resolve. Every vein in his body seemed to bulge with pulsating energy, while his muscles coiled like springs, ready to unleash their full might. The dark lightning crackled around his sword, an ominous aura enveloping its blade. This was the culmination of all his strength, the most powerful attack he had ever mustered.

In a blinding flash of brilliance, Azrael lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air with unparalleled precision. The very molecules seemed to yield before the deadly arc of his blade. Its movement carried an eerie silence, foreboding destruction on an unprecedented scale.

Yet, against all odds, a single finger was all it took for Lyra to halt Azrael's assault. The force behind his attack sent shockwaves rippling through the area, obliterating everything in its wake. However, Lyra stood untouched, her index finger effortlessly blocking Azrael's blade mere inches from her face.

"This is far from enough," Lyra stated calmly, her voice betraying no hint of unease.

Azrael's lips curled into a faint smirk as he responded, "I know. I wasn't done."

Suddenly, the sky roared with thunder, as if echoing Azrael's determination. A devastating lightning strike, far more potent than any Azrael had ever summoned, hurtled towards Lyra's head. Yet, just before it reached its target, the destructive force came to an abrupt halt, frozen in mid-air, as if defying the laws of nature itself.

Azrael's eyes widened in astonishment as he beheld the frozen lightning, a manifestation of halted time itself. Every motion, every particle, except for Azrael and Lyra, stood suspended in the void. The realization dawned upon him with absolute clarity—time had come to a standstill.

"Even this is not enough," Lyra declared, her voice resonating with an air of detached certainty.

Azrael couldn't resist taunting her, his voice laced with defiance, "Then why did you halt it?"

A flicker of knowing crossed Lyra's eyes as she met Azrael's gaze. "Because I know your true aim was vanuk and not me," she replied, her voice tinged with insight.

"But if you have any doubts," Lyra continued, her hand gracefully waving through the air. In an instant, a shimmering golden bubble enveloped both her and Azrael, shielding the rest of the world from the impending strike.

As time resumed its relentless march, the lightning, unleashed with unparalleled fury, struck Lyra with devastating force. The aftermath left a smoking crater, the remnants of their battleground. Yet, against all odds, Lyra remained unscathed, her indomitable spirit untouched.

A weakened Azrael, reeling from the combined blow of the lightning and the backlash from his god form, managed to muster the strength to speak. "Ha, it seems I have not surpassed you," he admitted, his voice strained as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

Lyra's response echoed with a chilling calmness, her words carrying an ominous weight. "It appears so. However, I will grant you one final chance. In two years' time, Ryzel's final tournament will take place. Let us see if you can rise from the lowest rank to rank one. But know this, if you fail, I shall not spare your life again."

As her proclamation hung in the air, a foreboding silence settled upon the scarred battlefield, marking the beginning of a fierce countdown towards a fateful rematch.

Azrael's weakened form swayed precariously from side to side, each step a struggle as he limped towards Lyra. His ragged footsteps echoed heavily as he drew nearer.

Finally, Azrael stood before Lyra, his trembling hands reaching out. Leaning his head upon her left shoulder as he barely stood, he whispered in her ear, his voice laden with a mix of determination and irony. "I will be there, without fail, to defeat you. How amusing it is that you are the one Ren chose." With those words, Azrael's strength abandoned him, and he collapsed to the ground.

Without hesitation, Lyra swiftly gathered Azrael's unconscious body, lifting him with a powerful grip. Leaping out of the smoking crater, she placed him on the ground beside Ava.

"He's unconscious. Take him and go," Lyra said, her voice holding a commanding authority.

Ava emitted a low growl. With deliberate efficiency, she used her mouth to hoist Azrael onto her back. Then, with the agility of a wolf, she vanished into the shadows, carrying Azrael away with unparalleled swiftness.

"You now have your first failed mission, my princess," the guardian remarked to Lyra.

"Well, there's a first time for everything," Lyra replied, her tone resilient.

"On the bright side, although you deviated from the mission's rules, Vanuk still lives," the guardian offered a glimmer of positivity.

Lyra's gaze shifted towards Vanuk, his mouth and hands still tightly bound. Determinedly, she began walking towards him, her steps purposeful.

"I've failed the mission," Lyra started, her voice filled with an unexpected resolve, "but if I have to fail, let it be a complete failure." As she spoke, she spun her blood rod in a fluid motion, readying herself.

With a swift and deliberate motion, Lyra thrust the blood rod into Vanuk's neck. He crumpled to the ground, his life slipping away slowly. A bittersweet satisfaction played across Lyra's features as she muttered, "I really wanted to do that."

"Let's go, guardian," Lyra declared, her voice tinged with finality. In an instant, they both vanished, disappearing from the scene.