Legendary sword Emperor

Azazel hovered high above the burning kingdom, the wind tugging at his tattered cloak, flaring it out like wings of shadow. His lips twisted into a wicked grin as he gazed upon the smoldering ruins below. To him, the destruction was a masterpiece. Flames danced and flickered, casting their eerie glow in the reflection of his crimson eye, which gleamed with manic excitement.

The anguished cries of the villagers below reached him, blending with the crackling of fire and collapsing structures. Azazel closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the symphony of fear and despair. It was intoxicating.

"Orion, once a kingdom of proud walls, said to be impenetrable," he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Now look at you—rubble, ashes, a mere whisper of what once was." His laughter started low, growing louder and more unhinged until it echoed across the sky. "Where is your hero now? Garmond, your so-called savior—let him come! Let him watch his kingdom turn to dust!"

Below, amidst the chaos, the people scrambled in confusion, helpless against the destruction raining from the sky. Among them, a lone warrior, bloodied and bruised, forced himself to his feet. His armor, once gleaming, was stained crimson, the weight of the battle evident in every painful step he took. 

"I still stand," he muttered, gritting his teeth against the pain. His voice, though strained, carried a fierce determination. He lifted his sword, using it to steady himself as he looked up at the figure in the sky.

Azazel's grin widened. "Still standing, are we?" he taunted, his voice filled with mockery. "How amusing."

Before the warrior could respond, a hand rested on his shoulder, gentle but firm. He turned, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Xavier, enough," a calm voice said from behind him. "I'll take it from here."

Xavier's heart leapt. "Garmond? But how—?"

The man who stood beside him was unmistakable. Garmond's presence, his calm authority, radiated hope. His azure eyes, sharp and unwavering, locked onto Azazel with a cold fury.

"That doesn't matter now," Garmond said, his voice steady. "Get the survivors out of here. Leave this to me."

Xavier hesitated for a moment before nodding, limping away to carry out the command. Garmond turned his attention fully to the figure above. Azazel, with his long, dark hair whipping in the wind, looked almost serene amidst the devastation, save for the mad glint in his blood-red eyes.

For a moment, Garmond took in the scene before him—his kingdom, his home, reduced to rubble. Smoke thickened the air, stinging his eyes and throat. The fires painted the once-proud buildings in an infernal orange, the acrid smell of burning wood and flesh overwhelming. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

"Why?" he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Why destroy my kingdom?"

Azazel's laughter rang out, sharp and hollow. "Must I have a reason?" His gaze dropped lazily to meet Garmond's, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I do it because I can."

Garmond's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay calm. He knew anger would cloud his judgment, and this enemy was unlike any he had faced before. He glanced up at the floating figure, a plan forming in his mind.

Azazel's laughter trailed off, leaving a smirk on his face. "Shall we begin then, little king?"

Without warning, Garmond hurled his greatsword with all his might. The weapon sliced through the air with a deadly precision, aimed straight for Azazel's heart.

Azazel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A bold move," he muttered, raising his hand to swat the sword aside with a casual flick of his wrist. But something went wrong. The force of the sword connected, slamming into his ribs with a sickening crunch.

Azazel's eyes widened in disbelief as he was thrown from the sky, crashing into the earth below with bone-shaking force. Dust and debris flew up around him as he skidded to a stop, his once-flawless figure now marred by pain.

He gasped, touching his chest, where blood dripped from a gaping wound. "Blood?" he whispered, staring at his crimson-stained hands. "How...?"

Above him, Garmond stood with a triumphant smirk, his eyes flashing with defiance. "Not so invincible, are you?"

Azazel struggled to his feet, his body trembling. His red eyes burned with a new intensity, and his face twisted into a manic grin. "Pain... is this pain?" He let out a chuckle, which grew into another bout of hysterical laughter. "It's been so long since I've felt it!"

The wound on his chest began to close, the blood vanishing as if it had never been there. Within moments, he stood whole again, his aura more menacing than ever.

"Did you really think that would be enough?" Azazel sneered, his voice filled with venom. "You're nothing, Garmond! Nothing compared to me!"

Garmond's heart sank as he watched the wound heal before his eyes. How could anyone survive such a blow? Yet, the momentary fear that gripped him was replaced by resolve. He couldn't allow himself to falter—not now.

"Xavier!" Garmond shouted, his voice hoarse. "Get everyone out! As far as you can!"

Xavier, far in the distance, heard the urgency in Garmond's voice and pushed himself to move faster, gathering the last of the survivors.

Azazel, meanwhile, raised his hands, and the air around him began to swirl violently. A massive hurricane formed in an instant, its force sucking in the remnants of the ruined kingdom. The wind howled like a thousand tortured souls, and debris flew through the air, crashing into the ground with thunderous force.

The people fleeing the city screamed as the storm intensified, pulling at them, dragging them toward the eye of the cyclone.

Garmond dug his sword into the earth to steady himself, the force of the wind nearly tearing him from his feet. He could feel the immense power Azazel wielded—it was unnatural, beyond anything he had ever faced.

Azazel's laughter echoed through the storm. "Can you still hope, Garmond? Against the power of the gods themselves?"

Garmond's gaze hardened. This was more than a battle for his kingdom—it was a battle for survival. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his sword from the ground and raised it high. His eyes blazed with determination.

"Let's see how you fare against this!" Garmond roared, bringing his sword down with all the strength he had left.

The blade cut through the air, unleashing a torrent of energy that tore the sky asunder. The sheer force of the strike sent shockwaves through the atmosphere, splitting the hurricane in two.

Azazel's grin faltered for the first time, his eyes widening in awe. "Impressive," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the chaos. Then, louder, "Yes! Garmond, show me more!"

The battle was far from over. And both men knew it.