The world around them blurred.
Ashen and Kael stood locked in brutal combat, their clashing auras rippling outward in waves strong enough to crack the earth. Every strike of their blades sent sparks raining down, every clash of their wills made the air itself groan with the strain.
Ashen fought with everything he had.
He had to.
The weight of Viraelon's hope, the faces of those who had trusted him, the warmth of Lyra's hand still lingering on his — all of it burned inside him, a fire hotter than any Emberfang could summon.
Kael fought like a storm unbound.
His movements were sharp, merciless. His dark crimson aura writhed around him like living serpents, striking out with every twist of his blade. His style wasn't just skill — it was cruelty honed into art.
"You fight for nothing," Kael sneered, catching Ashen's blade on his own and twisting savagely. "You stand atop a crumbling world and think your fire will save it?"
Ashen gritted his teeth, pushing back with a surge of strength. His aura flared, golden-red against Kael's shadow.
"I fight because I must. I fight because there's still something worth saving!"
Their swords rang out again, a song of violence and unyielding will.
Behind them, the battle between their forces raged. Garrick and Selene fought desperately to hold the Pact's elite at bay, Lyra cutting down any who slipped through. But they all knew—the real war was right here, between Ashen and Kael.
Kael ducked low, swinging his blade up in a vicious arc aimed at Ashen's ribs.
Ashen parried, feeling the impact jolt his entire body. Kael pressed the attack, a relentless onslaught of feints and real strikes that blurred the line between illusion and death.
Ashen's mind raced.
Kael was faster than before, stronger.
The darkness in him wasn't just corrupting — it was empowering him.
Ashen was running out of time.
He shifted his stance, breathing deep, tapping deeper into Emberfang's gift. His flames thickened, the golden-red burning white at the edges.
He struck back.
This time it was Ashen who pressed Kael, driving him back step by furious step. His blade sang through the air, each strike precise, relentless. Kael's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing.
"You're different," Kael said, voice low and dangerous. "The boy I knew... he would've broken by now."
Ashen's aura surged higher, the heat distorting the air.
"I'm not that boy anymore," Ashen growled.
"And you're not the brother I once trusted."
The admission burned Ashen's throat as much as it hurt his heart.
Kael's grin twisted into something crueler.
"Good," Kael said, darkness pooling beneath him. "Then you'll die as strangers."
A massive pulse of shadow burst from Kael's body, momentarily blinding. Ashen barely managed to raise his sword in time to block the blow—but the force of it hurled him backward, crashing through a half-toppled pillar.
Pain lanced through Ashen's side, but he forced himself up, coughing blood.
Kael stalked toward him, casual, confident.
"I offered you a place," Kael said. "You could have stood by me, ruled beside me. But you chose them—weak, broken things."
Ashen spat blood onto the ground.
He lifted Emberfang, the blade trembling slightly from the strain.
"I chose hope, Kael. Something you forgot a long time ago."
Kael's expression darkened. His next attack was merciless.
Shadowy tendrils lashed out from his body, seeking to pin Ashen down, crush him, suffocate the fire in him once and for all.
Ashen's mind flashed with images:
—Lyra, fighting with everything she had, wounded but unbowed.
—Garrick's booming laughter as he told stories around the campfire.
—Selene's quiet resolve.
—The dreams of a new world he had promised to protect.
He would not yield.
Ashen roared, his aura exploding outward in a dome of pure flame, burning away the shadows.
Kael staggered back, snarling.
Ashen advanced.
Each step forward now felt inevitable — the march of a star refusing to die, burning brighter even as darkness closed in.
Their final clash came like the collision of two worlds.
Ashen drove Emberfang forward with both hands, his aura spiraling around him like a blazing comet. Kael met him head-on, shadows coiling into a spear in his hand.
The ground between them shattered.
Time seemed to slow.
Ashen's voice rang out—not just from his throat, but from his soul:
"For Viraelon!"
"For the fallen!"
"For the future!"
Their weapons met in a cataclysmic burst of light and shadow.
Ashen pushed harder, pouring every ounce of his will into the strike.
Kael's eyes widened. For a brief moment—just a heartbeat—Ashen saw something there: regret? Grief?
But it was gone as quickly as it came.
Ashen's blade broke through Kael's defense, striking true.
There was no gory explosion, no slow-motion collapse—just a quiet, sudden stillness as Kael staggered back, hand pressed to the wound seared into his side.
Kael looked down at the blood spilling between his fingers, black and smoking where Ashen's flames touched it.
"You..." Kael rasped, laughing bitterly. "You really... changed."
Ashen said nothing, only watching as Kael stumbled back, shadow magic fraying from his body like torn cloth.
In the distance, the Pact's forces began to falter, their courage crumbling as their champion fell.
Kael gave one last smile—this one not cruel, but almost sorrowful.
"Next time, little brother..." Kael whispered, and then in a gust of black mist, he vanished.
Ashen dropped to one knee, exhausted beyond words.
But he was still alive.
He had won.
Around him, the tide of battle shifted sharply. The enemy, leaderless, fled or surrendered. Lyra rushed to Ashen's side, her face pale with worry.
"You did it," she breathed, helping him up.
Ashen looked at the battlefield, the cost, the blood... and nodded grimly.
"We did it," he said.
"But this... this was only the beginning."
Above them, the sun broke through the smoky clouds, casting golden light over the battered remains of the battlefield.
A new dawn, fragile but real.
And Ashen knew:
he would fight for it, burn for it, live for it.
No matter what.