The atmosphere in the chamber shifted the moment Valgorth fell.
The heavy tension hanging in the air dissipated, replaced by an unsettling silence.
It felt as if the very room itself was waiting.
Two of the apostles were now dead, and even with all of their confidence, thinking they had trapped Stark inside of their domain... all of that was nothing.
Only Malthus remained now, his black robes swirling around him, shrouded in the fading light from the destruction of his allies.
Stark and his clone stood firm, battle-worn but unwavering. They could sense the overwhelming power radiating from Malthus, but neither showed any sign of backing down.
Malthus's scythe hung lazily by his side, his eyes glinting with a cruel amusement.
Slowly, his lips curled into a wicked grin as he raised the scythe high above his head.
The weapon shimmered with a dark, unnatural glow, as though it were feeding on the surrounding shadows.
Without warning, he slammed the scythe into the ground.
"I AM THE MIGHTIEST OF THE ABYSS! FACE ME!" His voice echoed, causing the very floor beneath their feet to tremble.
Stark's eyes narrowed, his expression cold and unyielding.
In that instant, Malthus unleashed his "Godly" ability: [Blackened Harvest].
A dense black mist began to rise from the ground, swirling around Malthus like a living thing.
It absorbed the lingering energy of the fallen—the souls of Cerberus, Valgorth, and the countless devils that Stark had cut down along the way.
Their twisted forms merged with the mist, feeding into Malthus's growing power.
"Just for your information... I am the strongest of the apostles among those three, and my godly skill is one of the best there is in the entire world," Malthus smiled.
His body swelled as the aura around him darkened, his skeleton (?) muscles bulging, and his already towering frame growing larger.
The scythe pulsed, now brimming with raw, demonic energy.
Stark felt the shift immediately. This was no longer the same Malthus. He had become something far more dangerous, far more monstrous.
He had pushed himself past his very own limits.
[Malthus has gone from Calamity to Immortal-Level monster]
And with all the souls he harvested, he became just as strong as Olikar.
With an ominous smirk, Malthus pointed his scythe toward Stark.
"You will kneel before the power of the Abyss," he growled, his voice now deep and guttural, exuding death and destruction.
But Stark didn't move. He didn't even blink. Beside him, the clone was still, their synchronization flawless.
Malthus wasted no more time on words. His body blurred as he surged forward, his scythe crashing down with the weight of a thousand tons.
The blade sliced through the air like a guillotine, aimed directly at Stark's head.
But Stark was already moving.
With reflexes sharpened by countless battles, he activated [Dodge Control], slipping out of the way just as the scythe grazed past, missing him by a hair.
SLASH!
The scythe struck the ground with tremendous force, carving a massive gash into the stone where Stark had stood.
And while Malthus was too concentrated on having the hands drag them to the deepest parts of hell, he hadn't focused on the incoming attack.
He had seen Stark use it against the guardian ape, but his pride made him believe he could everything.
He was proven wrong.
BOOOOOOM!
The cross crashed into the apostle, momenterily staggering him and making him drop his scythe because of the sheer divine power.
-384,372!
Malthus let out an enraged roar, momentarily disarmed.
But Stark was already moving.
In an instant, he teleported behind Malthus using [Crimson Ball Transmission], appearing just behind the apostle before he could react.
Stark wasted no time, grabbing Malthus by the shoulders, locking him in place with an iron grip.
Malthus struggled, his raw strength still terrifying, but Stark held firm, his aura blazing with determination.
"Release me!" Malthus spat, thrashing violently, but it was too late.
Stark summoned the last of his power, his voice ringing out with finality.
"Heaven's Wrath!" he pointed at the sky after drawing a circle in his hand.
The heavens responded.
A brilliant light split the darkness in the sky, descending upon them like divine judgment.
The crimson beam consumed Malthus, its purity burning through the dark power he had harvested, tearing away the souls he had consumed.
"Crimson Ball Transmission," and Stark had already set his other crimson ball, teleporting away right before being hit (first perk of transmission is he gets another crimson ball to use).
Malthus screamed in agony, his body dissolving under the blinding light.
Oh, and yeah, Stark fused [Heaven's Wrath] with [Holy Infusion].
-354825!
-399573!
-553211!
His health plummeted, his strength drained.
With a final explosion of light, Malthus's form disintegrated, reduced to ash, his reign of terror over.
[Malthus has been defeated.]
Stark stood over the remains, his chest heaving, sweat trickling down his face.
The chamber was silent once more, the weight of the abyss lifted at last.
The clone stood beside him, its demonic aura still strong.
It was finally over.
Stark took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow, surveying the battlefield one last time.
Victory was theirs.