As the clone of young Astaroth vanished into shimmering light, the red dust of the battlefield settled.
Malikai stood there, blood dripping from the corner of his lips, arms trembling faintly. Cracks ran along his forearms, a few bones shifted out of place, wings cut and torn, tail stiff and bruised. Nothing critical—but it had been brutal.
Then, in less than ten seconds, everything stopped hurting.
The bruises faded. Skin knit back together. Bones popped back into alignment with soft, fleshy snaps. His breath evened out. His tail flexed, and his wings straightened, fully healed.
It was like rewinding time on his own body.
Malikai blinked once, then let out a quiet chuckle.
"...Looks like whatever that Eternal Godbody Codex is, it's finally doing something real."
He took a step forward, testing his limbs. Perfect form. Not a hint of leftover damage.
Without waiting, he called out mentally to the tower again. Same opponent. Peak Core Formation this time.
A tremor ran through the scarlet earth. The light condensed again, twisting and churning into a taller figure.
The clone emerged, more vicious, same familiar face. A younger Astaroth, now at his peak in Core Formation. The pressure he gave off was different. Wild. Tighter. Feral.
Malikai didn't smile.
His wings flared open with a single snap.
Then the clone charged.
They clashed in the middle of the field.
A straight fist came for Malikai's throat—he twisted just in time, his tail sweeping up to block, only for the clone to pivot and smash a knee into Malikai's ribs.
CRACK.
The prince flew back, dragging his feet to stop the slide. He kicked off the ground again without pause.
He ducked low, came in with a rising uppercut aimed at the clone's gut—his fist connected, but the clone barely flinched, countering with a vicious elbow that nailed Malikai's temple.
He spun with the blow and returned with a wing slash, the bone edge cutting toward the clone's neck. Astaroth's clone leaned back fluidly and drove a fist into Malikai's chest.
Boom.
Malikai gasped, wings curling forward to block the next barrage.
He grit his teeth, thoughts racing. This isn't just a stronger version of before… the speed, the timing, the angles—
Another punch came, this time from above. Malikai raised both arms to catch it. The impact cratered the red earth beneath them.
"Tch."
He twisted, tail striking toward the clone's left knee—it landed, forcing the figure to adjust.
They broke apart.
Malikai circled slowly now, breathing even but sharp.
His eyes narrowed.
"Are all Asura demons this strong at Core Formation…? Or is my father just a monster?"
Another flash exchange.
Malikai darted in, this time using rapid, low jabs. The clone blocked most, parried one, and kneed again. But Malikai anticipated it—he dropped low, caught the leg with his arms and tail, and hurled the clone over his shoulder.
The ground exploded as the clone smashed into it—but it flipped back to its feet immediately.
A starburst of fists followed.
One-two. One-one-three. Uppercut-hook-palm. Their tails clashed behind them while their wings danced in feints and balance breaks.
Malikai's knuckles split. Blood smeared across his nose. But the fire in his eyes grew with every strike.
Each hit he took—he countered harder.
Each block he made—his footwork got sharper.
He began to push back.
A clean left jab forced the clone back a step.
A tail whip cracked across the clone's jaw.
Malikai slid into a low sweep and followed with a flying elbow to the sternum that sent his father's younger clone stumbling.
He didn't let up.
A roar ripped from his chest as he threw his entire body into the next strike—right cross, left gut, wing jab, knee smash—one after another until the clone faltered.
Finally, he spun with his entire weight, tail whipping low as his fist came down from above like a hammer.
BOOM!
The clone's body cracked into the dirt, forming a shallow crater.
It didn't rise again.
Shattered into motes of red light.
Malikai stood above it, panting, sweat mixing with blood.
"...Shit," he muttered, looking at his bruised knuckles, already starting to heal. "So that's what Peak Core Formation Astaroth feels like..."
He walked a few steps forward, cracked his neck to the side.
Then raised his hand to the sky.
"Same opponent. Early Nascent Soul Realm."
Silence.
Then the light pulsed again—this time far denser, far heavier.
When the figure formed, Malikai felt his body seize up for a half-second.
It was the same clone.
Same face.
Same features.
But the air warped around him now.
The pressure was like standing beneath a mountain that wanted you dead.
Malikai took one step forward—
And the clone was already in front of him.
CRACK!
One fist. That's all it took.
The blow hit his chest. He felt his ribs compress, then everything shattered.
Pain beyond pain.
His body flew back like a ragdoll. He didn't even hit the ground before his vision went white.
Then—
Nothing.
The tower caught his shattered body in midair, stopped the simulation, and dissolved the clone.
When Malikai came to, he was lying flat on the red earth, staring up at the painted sky above.
Breathing hard.
Eyes wide.
Still trembling.
"...Damn."
He blinked slowly, blood still leaking from his lips.
"...That wasn't even a full exchange…"
He didn't move.
Just laid there.
Staring.