The Black Flame erupted from Azrael with force that cracked the arena floor.

He charged toward the drake without strategy, without technique—just pure desperate fury at watching Maya disappear into darkness. His blade formed from condensed fire, sharp enough to cut reality itself if that's what it took.

The drake tried to dodge. Tried to use the same speed and power that had made it apex predator since the Underworld's founding. But Azrael wasn't fighting tactically anymore. Wasn't trying ...