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[“Though many forms exist of the divine armor worn by Bastian Serappheart, they all possess the same essence in their very origin: an absolute rejection of magical phenomena. Magecraft itself is mitigated vastly, causing even splendid spells of cataclysmic power to hardly harm the armor. It works both ways however, as supportive magic cannot enhance the armor–though, it is a more than welcome exchange.”]

This was proven true as even when Aelor further tried to send the winged figure down with a massive coalescence of stone, gathered from the broken pieces of the golem that rained down, merged into the maw of a great beast, the coming hail of lightning-infused fire did nothing to stop Bastian.

Even as it swept against the sleek armor, the man continued flying forth, escaping the breath of wrath and rising up, summoning a javelin of light into his hand and pointing it down at the Element King.

The javelin rattled with energy, giving off lavish sparks as it throttled with divine glory before being launched forth with a burning wind swirling around it.

Aelor had only a moment to react to the javelin being formed and it being thrown, having to choose in that small fraction of a second what his counter would be, though from his long-lived life, he was well prepared.

[“Age of Iron: Lock Trap”]

What was born was a masterful display of rock magic raised to such a level that it likened itself to true perfection, manifesting not as stone, but refined, reinforced steel that was invoked into a defensive mechanism.

Three massive circlets of steel were lined up in the path of the golden javelin, ensnaring it in the fraction-of-a-faction of a second that it propelled through before locking it down with steel pillars.

It was perfectly timed and executed by Aelor, who clenched his fist to signal the sealing steel to close off, completely shutting down the trajectory of the projectile altogether.

“I knew it wouldn’t be that easy,” Bastian muttered.

A wall of unequivocal mastery over magic was before him; a man that not only possessed a peerless knowledge over the elements but also a monstrous reservoir of mana to supplement it. This was the ‘Element King’; a foe that simply seemed immeasurable to face.

Still, Bastian himself was a being ascended from the realm of normalcy, unflinching to the masterful magecraft before him as he wasted no time summoning an onslaught of golden chains around Aelor.

“–” Aelor glanced side-to-side.

The ethereal chains swept in from glowing anchor points in the sky, shooting towards the platinum-bearded figure with swiftness, though the Element King was not taken by surprise.

“Seeking to seal my mana entirely? A commendable strategy, however…” Aelor said quietly.

With a single movement of his hand, he summoned in a manifestation of abnormal water, altering its fundamental properties as it instantaneously layered itself on the approaching chains, covering it in slick aqua before lowering the temperature to absolute zero.

[“Flash Freeze”]

It happened so quickly that there was simply no counter or any way of escaping it, leaving the golden chains completely frozen in the air by the simple, yet effective spell.

Guess that’s a no-go then. Old man has faster reflexes than you’d think, Bastian thought.

This time, he altered his approach, raising his snow-white gauntlet to the air as a massive build-up of divine energy birthed itself in the sky above. It was a mountainous cloud of energy itself, sharpened to Bastian’s will before taking a physical form.

At the wave of a hand, an angelic sword that surpassed the gargantuan mountains below was born, possessing a size that parted the clouds around it as an unequaled mass of violence.

“…I sense that this is what they call ‘irony’, no?” Aelor said in response to the manifestation of the massive sword.

Bastian moved his hand, commanding the object above to fling towards his foe, sitting below its all-encompassing shadow as the sky rumbled amongst the weight of the projectile.

As it headed straight for Aelor, the platinum-bearded king of elements watched it, glancing back as he saw it was on trajectory for his skyborne fortress.

I didn’t take you for the type to play dirty, Bastian Seraphheart. Though if you didn’t, I’d be even more hesitant about this deal–either way, let us exchange our might, Aelor thought.

There was nothing moderate about the clash of titans; Aelor summoned his internal mana, summoning forth the transcendent essence that revealed itself as a cosmic shine around his position, enveloping him in the heat of creation and an aura of destruction, simultaneously.

What makes a mage proper is not the ability to invoke utter desolation on your foes; it is not the talent to destroy nor the power to summon forth more mana than your opponent, Aelor thought, the true caliber of a mage is their ability to adapt. For any situation, any obstacle, any trial, they must be able to find a solution–find the right spell; the key that fits the lock. That’s what stands above all.

“Sylph. Undyne. Gnome.”

Calling upon the names of the three Great Spirits, Aelor pointed his hand forward towards the incoming mountain-sized sword that continued rattling the skies themselves.

Arriving first was a massive shift in the winds, reversing the tug entirely on the sword, maximizing the wind drag and pushing against it with a condensed storm itself to mitigate the movement of the object as much as possible.

“Gnome.”

Forging from sediment born from nothing, rocks coalesced and linked together in a colossal chain, wrapping itself around the divine steel many times over, constricting and binding it while the storm continued pushing against it.

Bastian pushed his hand forward to propel the blade, filling it with further seraphic energy to empower it, though it was easier said than done with Aelor’s magic gripping it tightly.

It wasn’t simply the nature of rock itself that made the binding so sturdy; through the heightened reinforcement that Aelor could provide, making even a blade of grass able to surpass the durability of the toughest of metals, the restrictive stone became immeasurably dense and rigid.

“Come forth, Undyne.”

Once the wind and stone had successfully mitigated the movement of the monstrous sword, a lake’s worth of water conjured into the sky as a giant blob, enveloping the blade and containing it in a shell of aqua.

What a pain in the ass…It’s like this old man has a response for anything and everything I do. He’s a monster, Bastian thought.

[“Oceanic Cabinet”]

Compressing smaller and smaller, the aquatic hold around the sword shrunk down, making the gargantuan object within its grasp shrink down as well, continuing to tighten and compress further before becoming nothing more than a droplet of water.

Aelor held the droplet above his index finger, looking towards the Serappheart with his wizened gaze, “You’ve strained this old man. That’s a first in recent decades.”

“Count me honored,” Bastian half-sarcastically responded.

Though what was before Bastian was “merely” a test, a trial given by the Element King was a cataclysmic event in itself, only able to be survived if one stood on the same threshold of godhood as himself.

“Let’s finish this,” Aelor said, “–I’d like to return in time for my evening cup of tea.”

Saying such, the Element King waved his hand, casually summoning an onslaught of giant fireballs that shot down from the clouds above like a shower of meteors, sailing down towards Bastian.

“Sure thing,” Bastian responded.

Just then, a flash of light so divine and dense in power exuded, blinding even the Element King and filling the valley with the light of a secondary star–brighter than the moon in full.

[Current Stage: 10/10 | Seraph King | 1/5 ]

It was difficult to see behind the veil of golden light, but the Serappheart was dressed in armor of unequaled majesty, bursting forth with a trail of exploding light that quaked the air.

Only a mere moment was shown to the world, but the tenth stage of the Seraphheart was a world apart from even the ninth; untouched by flame and malice, it repelled all magic that even felt its aura.

Within a moment, Bastian broke the distance between himself and Aelor, stopping his fist just shy of the figure’s face.

“…Impressive,” Aelor said.

Bastian withdrew his fist, relinquishing the vibrant armor as his cloak returned and the light settled, “Sorry about that, but against you, I realized nothing but the best would be meaningless.”

“Hoh, you needn’t patronize this old man,” Aelor stroked his beard, “It’s been decades since I’ve even had a sparring match–I’m about as rusty as can be, I’m afraid. Nonetheless, I can safely say it: you’re capable of handling this, Bastian Seraphheart.”

“Thank you, Aelor,” Bastian nodded.

A handshake was met as the two accepted the truce, stopping the observation of the Dragonheart and allowing the Serappheart to now begin his travels, seeking out the young mage holding the draconic lineage. This was their agreement.