Reality reformed around the forge, and he stood strong with Soul Rupture in his hands. He glared across the anvil of creation at the menacing, towering form of Torchwood, the orcish god. Once again, the pair began to circle the centerpiece of the cavern.

"You won't win." Angon said, brow furrowed, eyes as deadly as daggers.

Torchwood narrowed his own eyes, and glared back at the metal man.

"Come." The god said. "Let us finish this and be done. I have a world to devour."

Angon whipped the scythe sidelong and reality tore open. Red spikes of energy appeared, floating before him. He then waved his hand and the spikes fired at his opponent. Torchwood did not try to dodge, as each spike struck him in chest, arm, and even face. The forge held his hand out before him and squeezed it shut.

Explosions went off as each spike detonated. One by one they blew, sending Torchwood back step after step. Again, Angon held the scythe out before him, watching the smoke cloud for any sign that the god still stood, and in his being Angon knew it couldn't be that easy; and it wasn't.

First he saw the burning red eyes, and then he saw Torchwood charge forward. Angon brought up the scythe's staff to block. The very force of the god pushed Angon back, but he dug in his heels, pushing against the orc.

Together, they held the position. Black energy crackled about the staff of Soul Rupture and ran through Angon's fingertips. He could feel the intense power of the mighty weapon. And he knew with it in hand, he could defeat Torchwood.

Angon pushed with all his might, and Torchwood was forced back one step, then two. The forge had the god at the anvil, and bending over backwards, trying to break through the deadlock. Angon's eyes glowed a brighter yellow than they ever had.

"Torchwood." Angon said through gritted teeth. "You will go back to the heavens! And I will hunt you down there."

"I will go nowhere." Torchwood growled, fighting and standing back up. He pushed Angon back and made Angon lose ground.

Torchwood thrust his head forward, striking Angon in the face. The forge lost his footing and stumbled back, but the orcish god held onto the scythe. Angon fought to keep his grasp, but the deity was already twisted the scythe from him.

"No!" Angon growled, fighting back, but his fingers would not hold.

Torchwood grinned, and Angon's face contorted in rage.

"This weapon will not help you." The orc god said, loosing one hand and throwing a punch into the forge's gut. Angon was lifted off the ground, but held on.

"Let go." Torchwood pulled back another punch and slammed it into the metal man.

Angon grunted, lifting off his feet again.

"I was made to kill your kind." Angon shouted. "And I'm going to fulfill my destiny!"

Torchwood would have no more. He was tired of playing games with a mortal creature. The orc opened his mouth and Angon saw a fire building in the back of his throat. He had only a moment to gasp, as a ball of fire exploded out, smashing into him and blowing up on impact.

As soon as Angon's grasp left Soul Rupture, Torchwood took the shaft of the scythe and raised it above his head. With his undeniable strength, he brought the staff down and snapped it in two. Dark lightning shot out, striking the stones, and blowing chunks from the ceiling. Torchwood dropped the two pieces of the weapon by the broken Hellsmasher.

"You have no weapon, mortal." The orc god said. "How would you defeat me now?"

He stared into the smoke, waiting and watching to see if he had won the battle. As the smoke cleared, he found a curious sight. The forge still stood, albeit wobbly. Angon's left hand was over his right shoulder. Where his right arm had once been, there was now nothing but wires hanging loosely. Mythril blood dripped to the ground, and seeped from Angon's mouth and nose. He stared at Torchwood with half-closed eyes, and blackened metal skin.

"You survived?" Torchwood chuckled. "But you look worse for wear."

Angon took a step towards the god. "You... will... not... win."

"What do you mean?" The orc grinned. "You've no weapon, you have on arm, and you were nearly blown away by a simple fireball."

Angon took another step. "Don't... make... me... repeat... myself."

Torchwood watched the forge curiously. He had determination unlike any he had ever seen. Even when he assisted in the death of Sheeva, she had not come back with such tenacity.

"You can't win." Torchwood nodded.

Angon continued to take another step, glaring at his opponent. His foot bumped the head of Hellsmasher and he looked down. Sitting next to it was the blade of Soul Rupture.

"Neither can you." Angon said.

"Why even bother trying?" Torchwood laughed.

He walked towards Angon, who glanced up at him. Angon tried to take another step to meet Torchwood, but he had no more strength in his legs. He fell flat on his face. With maniacal laughter, Torchwood walked around Angon, and then stepped on his back, applying half of his body weight. The helpless mortal cried out and reached forward, grasping at the air.

"You couldn't at least make this fun for me?" Torchwood grimaced. "So be it."

The orc god pushed down with all of his weight. Inside of Angon's body, gears popped, wires tore, and tubes were crushed. He could feel himself being flattened, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Any last words?" Torchwood asked.

Angon closed his eyes and reached out, grabbing the head of Hellsmasher and the blade of Soul Rupture in the same hand.

Torchwood shrugged, lifted his foot and stomped down as hard as he could. Angon's body shattered in half, and he was able to lunge forward, slamming his hand down on the anvil of creation.

The orc god stared with raised eyebrows as a golden light shot up from the forge, and black lightning swirled around it.

"What have we here?" Torchwood asked.

The pillar of light blasted up, and the luminance spread out, absorbing everything in the cavern. Quaking overtook the cavern, and even the mighty Torchwood fell from his feet. The explosion that followed was the biggest that had ever befallen Anhsook Del Iris.

***

In Angel's Outpost, Buster, Lavina, and Ramona kneeled over the dead body of Azteron, the minotaur father of Angon. But the sudden quaking had them thrown from their positions.

"W-what's happening?" Ramona cried.

"The hell if I be knowin'!" Buster replied.

Lavina was the first to get back to her feet. She ran for the doors of the church and pushed them opn, rushing out into the snow.

Miles in the distance, she could see Mount Chronos. A golden beam of light was shooting straight through the tip of the mountain.

"What is that?" Ramona asked, joining the half-elf outside.

Buster stared on with his jaw hanging open. "I've never seen such a thing!"

"It's... It's Angon!" Lavina cried.

"How do you know?" Ramona looked at the seemingly crazy girl. "That could be anything!"

"It's him, I just know it!" Lavina replied, holding her hands to her chest. "I can feel it in my heart. He's there, and he's fighting a fight greater than that against Gus."

"There's no one more powerful." Buster said. "Except... maybe Angon."

"You can do it." Lavina whispered, looking back up at the mountain.

Then night became day, as a brilliant maelstrom of light exploded through the top of Mount Chronos. No, the mountaintop itself had blown clean off.

"Do you think he can win?" Ramona asked. "If he's fighting someone more powerful than the Walking God."

"He has ta." Buster crossed his arms and nodded. "He has me Hellsmasher. Ain't no way he'll be defeated with that."

"You sound sure." Ramona said.

Buster shook his head, with his hair beard wagging about. "That weapon was crafted from the will of Sheeva. She granted me that weapon to fight in the War of the Ten. It was meant to defeat the leader of the Blood Tomb."

Ramona looked back to the mountain, then at Lavina, who still was repeating the same words. "You can do it."

***

Where the cavern of creation had once stood, there was nothing but a plateau. Everything had been flattened. The mountaintop had been blown off as if Mount Chrono had been a great volocano. Every stalagmite was gone, and snow and wind blew about fiercely.

Gavin opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying on the ground, and across the way was Hero, who was also waking up. Tricia sat up, looking confused. But then all three pairs of eyes landed on the scene before them.

A huge, towering orc stood towards the center of the plateau. Behind him there was fire. Gavin shakily stood and walked to the side, staring in awe, his jaw fell open. Hero's tail wagged as he saw the same sight.

Angon stood with his head to his chest, looking more muscular than before, and with a pair of golden horns coming from his head. His armor-like skin was shining bright silver. In one hand Angon held a hammer that at first Gavin thought was Hellsmasher, but its head was much wider and had spikes protruding from its sides. The weapon itself looked to be made of a black metal, with a violet sheen.

Angon lifted his head and glared at the orcish monster before him and his eyes were a raging hellstorm of doom.

All Gavin knew, was that he would not wish that orc's coming fate on anyone.