Elsewhere, a battle of unimaginable proportions was about to unfold. Pragaya stood tall, his hands and feet encased in shimmering armor, his glowing wings spread wide like a divine avenger. This was the same power he had used to claim victory in the Magian Battle all those years ago—a power etched in legend. He smirked at the Hellriser before him, his piercing gaze unwavering.

"Tell me... how did you know?" Pragaya asked, his tone steady yet commanding.

The Hellriser, maintaining its sinister smirk, remained silent, its eyes gleaming with malice.

"Fine then," Pragaya continued, his voice growing sharper. "Let me ask you this—why did you end up in hell?"

At this, the Hellriser's smirk faltered, replaced by a dark scowl. Pragaya’s words struck a nerve, but he didn’t stop.

"The fact that you’re standing before me now can only mean one thing," Pragaya said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Not only were you a worthless human in life, but even in death, you managed to make yourself more pathetic. Instead of facing your sins and seeking atonement, you chose the coward's path. You sold your soul for fleeting power. You make me sick."

Pragaya’s words cut through the air like a blade, his tone both scornful and righteous. The Hellriser’s malevolent grin twisted into an expression of pure hatred, its body trembling with suppressed rage.

The Hellriser lunged at Pragaya with immense force, but Pragaya stopped its claws effortlessly with just a single finger. As the two locked in a fierce stalemate, the Hellriser’s lips curled into a twisted sneer.

“You know, hell is actually a much pleasanter place than this cursed world,” it spat, disgust etched onto its face. With a sudden surge of strength, the creature slashed harder, forcing Pragaya back a few steps.

The Hellriser continued, its voice rising in rage, “Humans are the real demons! You make this world a living hell—all of you!”

Pragaya remained calm, his expression unreadable, as the Hellriser screamed in fury and prepared for its next move.

The creature’s glowing eyes began to shift, their color draining to an unnatural, pure dark. A chilling smile stretched across its face. “It’s about time I got serious,” it declared. “This was my magic when I was still alive. Let’s see how you deal with this on top of my nullification.”

The Hellriser raised its arms, and ethereal, fluffy dark clouds began to materialize around their battlefield in the sky, spreading around the area.

Pragaya, standing firm in midair, watched the phenomenon unfold with an unshaken gaze. His demeanor suggested that the display, no matter how ominous, did not trouble him in the slightest.

The Hellriser tilted its head, a twisted grin spreading across its face. "The name’s Corp," it said, voice oozing malice.

Pragaya smirked, his presence radiating authority. "Oh, so now you’re introducing yourself? Didn’t know soulless beasts had manners," he quipped, his tone sharp with mockery.

Corp’s grin widened, his voice dripping with mock disdain. "One good trait I picked up from the humans I killed, I suppose. They were all so insistent on exchanging names before they died." His words hung heavy in the air, followed by maniacal laughter that echoed through the battlefield.

Pragaya let out a low chuckle, calm yet menacing. His steady gaze bore into Corp as if dissecting him piece by piece. His mere presence seemed to drain the humor from the situation, Corp’s laughter faltering until it faded completely. The Hellriser’s expression turned cold, emotionless, and his predatory instincts surged to the surface.

Without a word, Corp launched his attack. He kicked off the fluffy clouds he had conjured earlier, using them like trampolines to ricochet through the sky with increasing speed. Each bounce turned him into a streak of dark energy, zipping through the air in erratic, unpredictable patterns.

Pragaya didn’t flinch. His eyes, glowing faintly with his light magic, tracked Corp’s every movement with uncanny precision. His posture remained steady, his confidence unshaken, as if he were waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

With a powerful final bounce, Corp launched his attack, his claws slashing through the air, yearning for Pragaya’s blood. Yet, Pragaya casually sidestepped the strike, his movements calm and effortless. Undeterred, Corp ricocheted off another cloud, only for Pragaya to dodge again with the same unshaken demeanor.

This game of pursuit continued for several tense seconds. Corp’s frustration grew with every missed strike. His expression twisted into a snarl, and his movements became more aggressive, the clouds trembling slightly under the force of his increasingly desperate bounces. "Why won’t you stop running, you arrogant fool?" he growled, his voice seething with irritation.

Realizing the futility of his direct assault, Corp abruptly altered his approach. He conjured a swirling sphere of cloud, its surface shifting like a storm, infused with nullification magic. The energy radiating from it was unnatural, a blend of glowing mist and crackling sparks that distorted the air around it. The weapon pulsated ominously, a clear indication of its deadly potential to pierce through any magical barriers.

Corp resumed his relentless bouncing, but this time, the clouds themselves shifted positions unpredictably, as if alive, and new ones materialized at the last possible moment to propel him. His erratic movements created a dizzying blur of speed, his aim clearly to render himself untraceable.

Yet, through it all, Pragaya’s piercing gaze never faltered. His eyes followed Corp’s every move with unwavering precision, his calm composure a stark contrast to the chaotic flurry of his opponent’s desperate maneuvers.

Corp launched his attack once more, faster and more relentless than before. However, Pragaya effortlessly dodged it again. This time, Pragaya struck back, his index and middle fingers twisted together, delivering a precise jab to Corp’s stomach.

Corp stumbled back, his expression twisting into mockery.
“What was that, old man? You trying to tickle me?”

Pragaya smiled confidently, a glint of superiority in his eyes.
“Take a look at your right arm,” he said calmly.

Corp glanced down, and his face shifted from smugness to shock as he noticed his right arm hanging limp and lifeless at his side.
“What the hell did you do, you geezer?” he snarled, anger flaring in his voice.

Pragaya, still poised with his fingers twisted in the same position, gestured toward Corp with an air of calm authority.
“This,” he began, “is a little something called Varma Kalai—an ancient martial art hailing from the great land of Hind.”

Corp’s confusion deepened as he narrowed his eyes at Pragaya.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Pragaya’s tone shifted into one of enlightenment, his words carrying the weight of tradition.
“Varma Kalai is a sacred martial art that targets specific pressure points. It can disable limbs, inflict pain, or even heal, depending on the intention of the user.”

Corp’s gaze sharpened as realization crept in.
“How the hell do you know something like that?”

Pragaya’s confident smirk widened as he replied with measured simplicity.
“I know someone.”

Pragaya decided it was time to switch from defense to offense. With an explosive burst of speed, he became a blur, weaving through the battlefield like a streak of lightning. Corp’s confidence faltered as he frantically leapt between his clouds, using their dynamic positions to evade Pragaya’s relentless assault. His single functioning arm limited his options, and his movements became increasingly erratic as he struggled to keep Pragaya’s strikes from landing.

Despite his panic, Corp’s cunning mind was working overtime. As the numbness in his paralyzed arm began to subside, a flicker of determination returned to his glowing eyes. "Just hold out a little longer," he muttered under his breath, dodging another narrowly-avoided strike. Pragaya’s precision, however, didn’t waver.

Sensing the opportunity to close the fight quickly, Pragaya extended his arms and conjured a constellation of radiant light spheres around Corp. Each sphere pulsed with energy, their golden glow contrasting sharply against the dark, clouded battlefield. With a commanding flick of his fingers, Pragaya sent them hurtling toward Corp like homing missiles.

Corp smirked, arrogance returning to his face. "Old man, did you forget my nullification?!" He raised his functioning hand, and with a sharp motion, a wave of nullification magic rippled outward, dissolving the light spheres into nothingness. "Nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that!"

Unbeknownst to Corp, his triumph was short-lived. Pragaya had anticipated this reaction. Using the distraction to his advantage, he moved with blinding speed, appearing behind Corp in an instant. The air cracked under the sheer force of his movement, a sound that sent shivers down Corp’s spine—if only he’d realized its significance sooner.

"Behind you," Pragaya said coolly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Corp barely had time to widen his eyes before Pragaya struck. With a calculated twist of his wrist, he drove two fingers directly into Corp’s spine, targeting a vital pressure point. The blow was surgical in its precision, and its effect was immediate. A sharp jolt shot through Corp’s body, and his muscles locked up entirely. His glowing eyes dimmed as he let out a guttural growl of frustration.

Corp fell, his once-proud form collapsing onto the battlefield. He twitched slightly, trying in vain to move. "W-what did you...?" he rasped, his voice now trembling with disbelief.

Pragaya straightened his posture, brushing nonexistent dust off his armor with a casual air of authority. "I warned you before, didn’t I? Your nullification is impressive, but overconfidence blinds you. And as for what I did..." He adjusted his gauntlets. "Let’s just say you won’t be bouncing around anytime soon."

Corp's earlier laughter felt like a distant echo, a ghost of his former arrogance, as he lay motionless on the ground. The battlefield was eerily quiet now, with the last remnants of his conjured clouds dissipating into the air, leaving the once-chaotic skies clear. A ray of sunlight broke through the parting clouds, bathing both Pragaya and Corp in a golden glow. The stark contrast between the serene light and the somber reality of the moment was palpable.

Pragaya descended slowly, his expression unreadable, standing tall beside Corp's defeated form. The Hellriser's body was still, but his piercing gaze remained fixed on the sky above, as though searching for something beyond the heavens.

Pragaya's voice, calm and steady, broke the silence. "Do you have any last words?"

Corp let out a weak chuckle, the sound hollow yet defiant, as his eyes slowly shifted to meet Pragaya's. Despite his broken body, there was a glimmer of something—pride, defiance, or perhaps a trace of humanity—lingering in his gaze.