A low, twisted chuckle slipped from Lamar's lips, his hand rising to cover his face. His shoulders began to shake, and then the laugh broke loose. Loud, mocking, ringing against the shattered stone. "Oh, by the Maker and the Old Gods across the whole bloody cosmos!" he drawled, drawing out each word with venomous relish. "I knew you for a fool, boy, but I never imagined you'd be quite this deranged."
He levelled a finger at Godric. "How desperate have you become, that you'd grasp for the same cursed gift Valerian took? How deep must your hunger for retribution run, that you'd sell your soul and chain yourself to Tartarus for eternity?" His grin widened, cruel and triumphant. "You're finished, boy. Cursed. Tarnished. And—"
"I'd shut my bloody child mouth if I were you, Burgess," Godric cut in.
Lamar froze, as if the words had been a slap.
"Yes," Godric pressed on, stepping forward, "you are absolutely a child. A wretched, petulant little monster, spoiled rotten and coddled by powers too spineless to give you the spanking you so richly deserve."
The black blade scraped against the floor as he closed the distance, the metallic trill carrying a promise.
"You've brought nothing but death and ruin to this city. Your mongrels butcher innocents, spill the blood of children, tear families apart, all at your word." His words hardened with every step. "You've reduced homes to ashes, defiled those who dared stand against you, and done it all for your own vanity and ambition."
His gaze flicked briefly over his shoulder to Rowena, then returned to bore into Lamar. "You tore the woman I loved from me. You framed Asriel for a crime he did not commit. And worst of all…" He stepped in close enough for Lamar to see the blackened blood on his face. "You made Rowena, the one person who loved you, who defended you, cry."
Godric raised the sword. Its blackened blade leveled like a sentence passed. "I've said this before. To Volg. What my Uncle Gareth told me long ago. That no matter how bleak, dark, cruel, or twisted a person may be, there's always some good within them."
His jaw clenched, breath flaring through his nose. "But once again, it's people like you who prove me wrong. I still have hope that Volg might look within himself one day and find remorse, maybe even change. He's young, and he has people to guide him. You, Lamar?" His gaze sharpened to a killing edge. "You're beyond salvation. Only Tartarus awaits."
Lamar's smirk faltered, not much, but enough for the flicker of something else to bleed through. The faint twitch of a jaw muscle, the brief tightening around his eyes. The moment passed in a breath, his composure snapping back into place as a low chuckle rolled out.
He tilted his head, studying Godric with the calm of a man convinced the executioner's blade would never reach his own neck. Yet beneath it, there was a flash of something raw. That Godric's words had landed deeper than he'd admit.
From the ground, Bran, Winston, and Asriel could only watch. Bran clutched his side, blood seeping hot through the torn fabric of his shirt. Winston pressed a hand to his chest while Asriel forced himself onto his knees. Their eyes were wide, breaths caught in their throats, each man sensing that this was the last calm before the storm. Rowena stared, her lips parting but no words forming, the dawning truth heavy in her chest. This was the breath before the end.
Lamar's words cut through the tension, measured but brimming with contempt. "Your bravado is… commendable. Either that, or you've deluded yourself so deeply that you truly believe you've a chance against me." Purple lightning coiled up his armor, the low hum from the core in his breastplate reverberating through the hall.
"Tell me, boy. After the sound thrashing I've given the lot of you, do you honestly think you can finish what Valerian could not? Succeed where he failed?" He scoffed, lowering into a stance. "I've run you through before, and I'll do it again. Better yet…" his lips curled into something cold, "…perhaps I'll just take your head and be done with it."
Godric lifted his head.
The air shifted.
A force rippled outward, and Lamar's eyes widened in the slightest fraction. The ground vibrated, the air shivering with a violent charge. Bran's breath caught as the hair on his arms rose. Static prickled at his fingertips. Rowena's heart lurched. She knew this sensation, had felt it before, but never like this. Golden circuits flared to life across Godric's skin, weaving from crown to sole, lightning curling around him as the floor beneath fractured under the surge.
"What is this…?" Lamar muttered. His gaze flicked over the boy, then locked on the place where the gaping wound from his scythe had been. It was gone. Even the burns on his hands had vanished. Realization hit him like a stone to the gut.
"You're right about one thing," Godric said. "I've barely scratched the surface of the spells I've learned. Crude imitations, honed well enough to keep me in the fight. Especially Vis Vitalis."
He spun both swords in his hands, the steel slicing the air with a hiss, the space between them seeming to warp under the strain. "Vis Vitalis takes its toll. Enough that pushing it to its limits would kill me. I learned that the hard way."
The air grew heavier, vibrating with a pressure that pressed down like an unseen weight, the kind that would drop a lesser man to his knees. "And yet… I've always wondered just how far I could go if I wasn't chained by my own mortality. The old legends say masters of Vis Vitalis could cleave mountains in half, and split seas with a single stroke."
His grip closed around the black blade, its fiery veins flaring to life. "But now, with this, Nemesis at my side, there are no limits. No restraints. No more holding back." His gaze locked on Lamar, cold and unwavering. "So, let's find out, Burgess… together."
The ground ruptured as the air roared outward in a violent blast. Lamar braced, teeth clenched, eyes narrowing. Godric closed his own, arcs of lightning splitting off his body in jagged bursts.
"Vis Vitalis… Maxima…" His eyes snapped open, blazing gold. "Deus."
It was as if reality itself tore open. Godric vanished in a burst of blinding light, the detonation that followed thundering through the tower, rattling stone from foundation to spire. The floor ruptured beneath him, a crater blooming where he had stood.
Lamar barely drew breath before the impact came. A force so sudden and vicious it blurred thought. His scythe snapped up just in time, both black and silver blades crashing against the hilt in a single, punishing strike. The blow lifted him clean from the ground, lightning trailing in jagged arcs as they rocketed through the chamber like a beam loosed from the heavens. They ricocheted from ceiling to wall, the world a blur of stone and flame before they tore through the massive clock face in an eruption of fire and shattering glass.
The great iron hands twisted free, spinning into the void as the tower's upper wall exploded outward. Godric and Lamar shot from the ruin like a meteor, the air itself burning in their wake.
They fell.
Hundreds of feet.
Lamar roared, driving his scythe into the tower's flank, stone screaming as the weapon carved a deep, jagged scar down the wall. Dust and fragments rained in his wake. Above, Godric twisted midair, another burst of light flaring as he hurled himself toward his foe.
Steel rang before they slammed into the earth. The impact bloomed into a shockwave that splintered the ground, propelling them forward in a blistering blur. Structures crumbled as they crashed through walls and rooftops, the very street splitting apart beneath their path toward the heart of the city.
Below the tower, Prefects and guards threw themselves against the gale, shielding their faces. Their shouts rose as shards of glass and twisted iron rained down, smashing into the cobblestones with bone-rattling force.
****
Bran pushed himself upright. His lime-green eyes drifted to the gaping wound in the tower where the clock face had been moments ago, now opening to the city far below. The night sky hung above them, scattered with a thousand cold stars. Twisted beams jutted into the void, gears and shattered mechanisms dangling precariously before tumbling down and striking the stone floor with a force that sent tremors through the chamber. He turned to where Godric had stood. Nothing but rubble now, the center of it blasted clean through to the floor beneath.
"Gods above…" he breathed.
"Bran, are you alright?" Rowena staggered toward him, clutching her arm. Her sapphire eyes scanned the devastation. "By Hecate… what just happened?"
"This," Bran said, "is proof the old tales weren't exaggerations. This is Vis Vitalis in its truest form… this is Gryffindor at full strength."
"That's impossible." Rowena shook her head sharply. "I've seen what that spell does to him. It's a double-edged sword. Godric's going to die!"
"Not with the Sword of Damocles," Asriel rasped from behind, leaning heavily on Winston's shoulder. The old man helped him forward with care. "Nemesis grants its chosen the gift of regeneration. Any wound, no matter how mortal. Any toll, no matter how great. Without it, your Gryffindor would already be gone."
Rowena's breath caught. "That would mean…" Her voice faltered. "No. I won't believe it. Godric wouldn't surrender his soul to Nemesis. He wouldn't damn himself, not like that."
Asriel started to answer but doubled over, spitting a clot of blackened blood onto the stones. His knees buckled before Bran limped over to catch him.
"Easy, old friend," Bran said, bracing him. "Save your strength. We'll get you to a healer."
"No." Asriel's head moved in a slow, stubborn shake. "There's no healing this. My time's near its end." He winced, glancing at the wound in his gut. "I know it's selfish… but take me to Gryffindor."
"You bloody fool, you'll kill yourself before you get halfway there," Winston said, steadying him.
Asriel's gaze shifted to Rowena, pinning her in place. "Your friend's not lost. I can feel it. He still has his soul. I don't know what passed between him and Damocles, but my gut tells me he struck a bargain with Nemesis."
Winston gave a short, grim chuckle. "The Old Gods do love their games. Can't blame them. Immortality's a tedious thing without sport."
"The boy's got honor," Asriel said, "but even the most honorable are tested when the cause of all their suffering stands before them. If anything can keep Gryffindor from crossing that line… it's something stronger than vengeance."
Rowena held his gaze for a long, heavy beat, his words settling like stone in her chest. She turned to the gaping hole in the tower, then back to him, resolve hardening.
"Let's go."
****
The bolt of lightning tore through the streets like a living thing, weaving between buildings with a force that rattled the very bones of the city. Glass exploded from shopfronts, asphalt split and curled, and parked vehicles were flung aside as if caught in a hurricane. Storefronts shattered into splinters and dust. Norsefire guards were hurled into the air, their shouts lost to the roaring shockwave.
Godric came to an abrupt halt in the center of the main thoroughfare, his boots grinding against the fractured road. Before him, Lamar slammed into the asphalt with bone-jarring force, his armored frame skidding across the surface. He hooked his scythe into the ground, the blade carving a deep trench before jerking him to a stop. Sparks scraped from his armor as he rose to one knee, his glare fixed on Godric.
Reaching for the core on his breastplate, Lamar twisted the control. A harsh mechanical voice burst to life: "Danger. Core overload. Critical failure imminent. Danger—" The warning cut short as Lamar smashed his fist against the housing with a snarl.
The circuits along his armor flared a violent purple, burning brighter with each heartbeat. Plates shifted and locked tighter around him, the lightning arcing faster, whipping in jagged coils. His teeth clenched as if the surge cut through his nerves. With a violent sweep, he wrenched the scythe from the ground, the motion sending a shockwave of wind rippling through the street.
"Enough, Gryffindor!" Lamar growled. The smirk was gone. Only raw fury remained. "No more games. No more meddling hands to save you. Just you and me." He dragged the blade across the ground, carving a scar into the road. "Let's finish this, you insolent whelp!"
Godric's golden circuits blazed to life. The street beneath his boots cracked and splintered as lightning danced over him, the air humming with lethal energy. In the next heartbeat, he was gone—vanished in a streak of light.
Lamar split his scythe into twin blades, his movements a blur. Arcs of purple energy lashed out, crescent slashes screaming through the air toward his opponent. Godric's swords crossed, their steel igniting with fire as he spun them in tight, precise cuts. One crescent shattered, then another, then another. Lamar kept swinging, his attacks faster, sharper, each impact tearing chunks from the street and the buildings around them.
Dust and debris engulfed the block as Godric burst forward, leaping high through the cloud of smoke. Both blades raised, fire trailing in their wake. Lamar's eyes darted upward, his stance tightening then he sprang back an instant before the swords came down.
The impact hit like a detonation, the street erupting in fire, stone, and shrapnel.
Lamar kicked off the ground, his twin scythes carving wide arcs through the air before burying deep into the wall behind him. Using them to brace his weight, he clung there for the briefest heartbeat, his gaze fixed on Godric with a fury that burned hotter than molten steel.
"You think you've gained the upper hand just because you're clutching that cursed blade?!" he snarled. "Don't you dare mock me!"
He wrenched the scythes free and launched himself forward. The wall exploded behind him, brick and stone shredding into dust as he slammed toward Godric with enough force to crater the street. Their weapons met in a blinding flash. Steel screaming, shockwaves bursting outward, the air rippling from the collision.
They tore through the city like a storm given form. Buildings split and collapsed in their wake, glass and debris raining down. In mid-air they traded blows with machine-like speed. Godric's black blade carving fresh gouges into Lamar's armor, the steel splitting under its unnatural heat. Lamar answered in kind, his scythe biting into Godric's flesh and bone, ripping blackened blood that healed in an instant under Nemesis' gift.
Sparks burst around them as they smashed through another wall. Lamar spun in mid-air, his heel crashing into Godric's ribs and hurling him backward. Without pause, he slashed across the air—two crescent arcs of purple energy screaming toward his opponent.
Godric landed hard, his boots shattering the road beneath him as he steadied himself. With a single swing, he cleaved through the incoming crescents, lightning bursting from his blades. Then he surged forward again—faster, harder—his twin swords striking in a cross as they met Lamar head-on.
The impact ripped them both through another block of buildings, each collision detonating in bursts of fire and stone as the city trembled under the onslaught.
****
A thunderous explosion ripped through the building, shaking the walls and rattling the air. Salazar flinched instinctively, emerald eyes snapping wide as a shockwave punched through the building next to the alley where students, guards and members of the militia congregated. Across from him, Bastion was frozen mid-stride. One leg half raised, arms awkwardly out, his mouth slightly open. Bits of dust drifted down onto his hair as if he'd been sculpted that way.
Salazar, now wrapped in bandages, his arm in a sling, tore his gaze from the settling debris and fixed Bastion with a sharp look. "What in Scáthach's name was that?"
Bastion didn't move at first, still caught in his ridiculous pose, then slowly straightened with a dry blink. He glanced toward the direction of the blast. "Was that Gryffindor… and Burgess?"
Salazar's eyes flew wide. "Did you say… Gryffindor?"
He surged to his feet in an instant, only for his legs to give way beneath him. Bastion caught him hard by the arm. "Easy—easy," Bastion said, steadying him. "You're banged up worse than you realize."
"I have to go. I have to get to him," Salazar said, edged with alarm, breath quickening.
"You're not going anywhere, not in that state," Bastion replied firmly, his mismatched eyes cutting toward the roiling cloud of debris in the distance. "Right now, you're going to have to put your faith in your friends."
"But—" Salazar began, only for Bastion to cut him short.
"And besides," Bastion said, drawing a sharp breath, "I doubt any of us could catch up to that… even if we tried."
****
The building erupted outward in a storm of glass, twisted steel, and roaring fire. The shockwave hit like a battering ram, forcing Cú and Údar to stagger back. Cú slammed his spear into the ground, bracing himself just in time to catch Údar before she toppled.
"What in the bloody hell was that?" Cú barked, eyes scanning the flaming wreckage.
"Not a blasted clue," Údar replied. "But whatever it was… it packed one hell of a kick."
****
Jeanne and Helena screamed as a deafening blast tore through a nearby building, reducing it to a violent spray of shattered brick and splintered wood. The explosion scattered debris in every direction, cloaking the street in a choking cloud of dust.
Jeanne's head snapped upward just in time to catch a blinding streak of lightning ripping through the air—so fast it barely seemed bound to this world. The shockwave knocked students off their feet; some hit the ground hard, others staggered but managed to keep upright, eyes wide with terror.
Helena braced herself, panting, her gaze darting over the wreckage before settling on Jeanne. "By the stars… what just happened?" she asked, her brown eyes wide with disbelief.
But Jeanne's attention wasn't on the devastation. She stood frozen, her gaze locked on the direction the lightning had vanished. A cold certainty gripped her chest, unshakable and absolute.
"Godric," she whispered.
"Well, it doesn't seem like anyone's hurt," Helena said, glancing around before turning back toward Jeanne. "Are you o—"
She stopped mid-sentence. Jeanne was gone.
Helena blinked, scanning the crowd and the street beyond. "Jeanne?" she called, loud enough to betray the unease settling in.
****
Godric and Lamar slammed into the ruins of a collapsed block, their boots grinding into a wasteland of shattered stone, twisted steel, and the gutted shells of vehicles. Their eyes locked. Two predators stripped of restraint. Faces twisted with rage. Weapons gripped so tightly the metal bit into their palms. A roar tore from both throats, raw and personal, carrying months, even years, of buried fury.
Steel met steel in a deafening crash. Sword against scythe, strike for strike. Every blow shrieked, sparks bursting in showers of ember rain. Their movements grew faster, heavier, more violent, until the eye could no longer follow them.
The battlefield erupted around them. Explosions ripped through the ground, hurling fireballs into the night. Buildings sheared apart, walls burst into avalanches of brick and dust, and glass rained down in glittering shards. Flames danced in the wreckage, their blades flashing in the inferno's light as they moved with the speed and force of gods at war.
And through it all, the fire in Godric's chest burned hotter. With every strike, every clash, he saw her. Raine—her smile, her touch, the warmth of her fur in his hands, the way her eyes held him as if nothing in the world could break them. Those memories ignited in his mind, only to be consumed by imagined flames until nothing remained but ash. His jaw locked, the cry in his throat deepening into something primal—a sound born from months of grief, rage, and helplessness, all because of the man before him.
The darkness whispered to him. No, it demanded. Retribution. Lamar's head on the ground. His blood on the stone. His voice breaking in pathetic pleas for mercy. The temptation was a vice, its grip tightening with every heartbeat, every breath, until the thought of giving in became intoxicating. For a fleeting moment, Godric wondered if it was worth surrendering to that pull. To Nemesis, and an eternity of damnation.
"I am Lamar Burgess!" Lamar roared, his twin scythes whipping through the air at blinding speed, purple lightning surging so violently the steel plates of his armor groaned under the strain. "I am the Grim Reaper! Director of the Clock Tower! The future ruler of Avalon!"
Godric met every strike head-on, his blades flashing as they carved through Lamar's armor piece by piece. Plates shattered from his thigh, split along his ribs, fragments scattering in molten shards. Godric's attacks were relentless, every swing punctuated with a raw cry torn from his chest.
Lamar's scythe bit into him. Shearing off his ear, carving across his eye, even tearing through his jaw in a spray of blood, only for every wound to knit closed in an instant, the flesh sealing with molten fire as though the damage had never been.
"I decide who lives and who dies!" Lamar snarled, his words cracking like a whip. "You are all beneath me—tools, pawns to be used and discarded at my will! Every breath you draw, every heartbeat you cling to is mine to grant or to—"
Godric's answer was a bellow as his blade slashed across Lamar's cheek, splitting it wide and severing tendons so his teeth glistened through the wound. Blood streamed down Lamar's jaw as he roared, his scythe arcing in retaliation, cleaving Godric's throat wide open. Blood like tar poured hot down his chest then sealed again in a hiss of flame, leaving not even a scar.
With a brutal kick, Godric drove himself forward, the ground splintering beneath him. Sword met scythe in a thunderous clash, the impact hurling them both through the shell of another building. A chain of detonations ripped down the street in their wake, toppling walls and showering the night in fire and stone.
****
A Norsefire guard let out a strangled cry as a spectral arrow struck clean through his chest, the light in his eyes snuffing out before he crumpled to the scorched stone. His blood spread dark across streets already littered with bodies and wreckage.
Rowena lowered her bow, sapphire eyes narrowing as she scanned the chaos. The battle was all but over now. Norsefire's ranks lay in ruin. Most scattered in lifeless heaps, others stumbling away clutching wounds that would not heal, and a handful kneeling in surrender with their hands laced behind their heads as AEGIS operatives and Tower guards took them prisoner.
She turned at the sound of ragged footsteps. Bran and Winston were struggling to keep Asriel upright as they moved through the street at a painfully slow pace. Every step seemed to sap more of Asriel's strength, his head dipping lower, the light in his gaze dimming beneath half-lidded eyes.
"Hey, stay with me," Bran urged. "You're not dying here. Not on my watch."
Asriel gave a faint, weary chuckle. "Were you always this insufferable, Ravenclaw?" He shook his head before Bran could speak. "Don't… don't answer that. I know." His voice thinned to a rasp. "I'm… sorry. For what I said to you in Stornoway. For what I did to you… and to Laxus."
"Pack it in," Bran replied. "You can apologize properly when you're on your feet again." He exhaled sharply, his eyes lowering for a moment before returning to Asriel's. "And besides… I don't deserve it. You were right—about all of it."
His lime-green gaze shifted past Asriel to Winston, hardening as it met his grandfather's.
Winston held the look for a moment before turning away without a word.
Rowena's gaze drifted skyward. The night was ablaze, the glow of burning rooftops bleeding into the clouds as if threatening to swallow the stars whole. "By Hecate… Godric could be anywhere in Caerleon," she murmured.
"Rowena!"
She spun at the voice, spotting Jeanne sprinting toward her. The girl skidded to a halt, bent double as she fought for breath, sweat plastering strands of gold to her face.
"Jeanne?" Rowena asked, startled. "What are you doing here? Where's Helena?"
"Helena's fine," Jeanne said quickly, lifting her gaze to meet hers. "I'm looking for Godric. I saw that flash of light—knew it had to be him." Her eyes flicked past Rowena, taking in Bran, Winston, and Asriel. The sight made her falter. "What… happened to you? To all of you?"
"It's a long story," Rowena said, exhaling sharply. "You'll hear it later. Right now, we have to find Godric. He's in trouble."
"Trouble?" Jeanne's brows knit. "What kind of trouble?"
"The kind where he either stays who he is…" Asriel cut in, drawing their attention. "…or is claimed by Nemesis. As I will be."
Jeanne's face drained of color. "You don't mean—"
Rowena gave a grim nod.
That was all it took. Jeanne's jaw tightened. "Then we move. Now. We don't have a minute to lose."
They all exchanged a silent agreement before surging forward, Jeanne and Rowena taking the lead as the others fell in behind.
****
Explosions ripped through the city, each burst of flame and shuddering impact echoing down the streets like the wrath of some vengeful god. The ground quaked beneath their feet. Stones split apart in showers of dust, and whole blocks were swallowed in clouds of smoke and raining glass. Buildings collapsed into heaps of smoldering brick and splintered stone, while vehicles lay twisted into heaps of mangled steel, burning where they had fallen.
At the center of the chaos, where an entire city block had been reduced to rubble, Godric and Lamar clashed. Sword met scythe in a storm of clangs, crashes, and screeching steel, each impact detonating with concussive force that hurled dust, debris, and embers outward in a furious whirlwind.
Godric pressed forward with relentless ferocity, both blades. One black, one silver. Moving as extensions of his will. Golden circuits pulsed down his arms into the weapons, lightning curling around them as they struck. Lamar met him stroke for stroke, his twin scythes snapping and darting like fanged predators, each strike meant to kill. Their faces were locked in the same expression. A twisted blend of fury and resolve, two men with nothing left but the singular purpose of destroying the other.
Yet every wound Lamar landed, wounds that should have torn Godric apart, closed almost instantly. Even the raw speed and destructive force of Vis Vitalis, power that should have ripped Godric's body to shreds, was now sustained by the dark gift of Nemesis.
Steel rang in a brutal parry, the vibration travelling up Lamar's arms. In that fleeting instant, he heard it. A faint groan, the brittle sound of something giving way. His gaze dropped to his armor, and his breath stalled.
Chunks of plating had been cleaved away, exposing flesh beneath. Cracks ran through the remaining steel, edges splintered where Godric's blades had struck. His joints creaked under the strain, each movement accompanied by a grinding protest. Then he saw it, the core in his chest, its glass casing fractured, the housing barely holding together.
Worse still, his eyes caught the damage to his weapons. Hairline fractures ran down the hilts, the once flawless blades chipped and spiderwebbed with stress. A cold weight sank into his chest. His time was running out… and for the first time, the certainty of victory began to fade.
"This… this is impossible!" Lamar snarled, his scythes whipping through the air in a blur as they met Godric's blades in a ringing clash. "I've faced savages, barbarians, ghouls, monsters, dragons, demons. Every last one has fallen to my blade!"
Godric spun his swords in a rapid whirl, steel hissing as he roared and charged forward. Their weapons collided again in a burst of sparks that lit the ruins around them.
"I've triumphed time and again!" Lamar bellowed, shaking with both rage and something darker—panic. "And now—now I'm being beaten back by a whelp like you?!"
He swung in a savage arc, his scythe slicing through Godric's wrist. Godric staggered, teeth clenched as the silver sword flew from his grasp and embedded itself in the shattered ground. His hand regenerated in an instant, molten seams forming flesh and bone as he took the black blade in both hands. Its fiery veins blazed brighter, blackened flames curling along the edge.
Lamar rejoined his scythes into one massive weapon, the steel groaning under his grip as he swung. They met again, the clash shaking the earth, each strike ringing like a hammer against an anvil.
"I am Lamar Burgess!" he roared, eyes bloodshot, spittle flying. His voice cracked, the edges fraying into something rawer. "I am the beginning! I am the end! All of Avalon bends to me! This is not the end—do you hear me? Not here—"
They circled, steps sharp, blades twitching in readiness.
"—and not like this!" they roared together, swinging in perfect unison.
Neither struck the other. Instead, the buildings around them split cleanly in two, molten lines glowing before the walls gave way, collapsing into roaring clouds of dust.
They turned, eyes locking again. Weapons ground together in a brutal deadlock, sparks showering the ground. Lamar's teeth clenched hard enough to creak, the fury in his expression barely masking the creeping dread in his eyes.
"I can see it in your eyes, Gryffindor," Lamar said through clenched teeth, his scythe grinding against the blackened blade with a shriek of steel. "The anger. The rage. All for that flea-bitten pelt you cling to so desperately. But it's not just her, is it? No… it runs deeper."
His gaze bored into Godric's, a cruel glint flickering there. "It's every wound, every grief, every miserable little transgression you've convinced yourself I'm to blame for. You've cast yourself as the avenger, the righteous hand come to pass judgment on me. Isn't that right, boy?!"
Godric's face hardened, rage cutting deeper into every line of it. "Aye, you said it!" he snarled. "For Rowena. For Helga. For Salazar. For Raine. For me!" he snarled. "For every last soul in Caerleon. For Dah-Tan. For everyone whose life the Grim Reaper of the Clock Tower has ever defiled, shattered, or destroyed."
He pressed forward, forcing Lamar's scythe back inch by inch. "I've taken it all upon myself. Their pain, their fury, their sorrow. I carry it with me, and I'll carve it into you blow by blow." His grip tightened on the sword, its fiery veins pulsing like a heartbeat. "You're beyond any forgiveness, Lamar. And I swear on this blade, even if it consumes me whole, I will make you answer for every last one of them!"
Godric knocked Lamar's scythe aside in a vicious parry, the impact ringing out as a hairline crack split across the weapon's blade. Lamar staggered back several paces, boots scraping against the rubble before he caught his footing. He twirled the massive weapon, face twisting into a snarl.
"Know your place, you pathetic, miserable, worthless son of a whore!" Lamar spat. "Against you—!"
"Against you—!" Godric barked back, lowering his sword into a ready stance.
Purple fire surged along the length of Lamar's scythe, racing up the circuits woven through his armor until his whole frame blazed with crackling light. Godric's blackened blade roared to life, its veins of molten flame bursting outward.
Both men screamed their battle cries.
"…I won't lose!"
Lamar launched forward, his scythe pulled back for a killing blow. Godric stepped in, black flames igniting beneath his boots, the stone melting then freezing to glass in the same instant. Fire engulfed him, taking the shape of a roaring lion, whose bellow shook the world around them.
"Set your heart ablaze… and surpass your limits!" Godric roared. "Calidus Gladius… Immanis Flamma!"
Their weapons met in a cataclysm of steel and fury. The collision erupted in a shockwave, a firestorm spiraling skyward in a tornado of black and crimson flame. Their cries rose with it—louder, rawer, almost inhuman.
Then came the sharp, sickening crack. Lamar's eyes went wide. The crystal core in his chest split open at last. Fractures raced down the length of his scythe, from blade to hilt, twisting the steel until it warped under the strain. Godric's blade drove on, and Lamar's weapon shattered. Splintering apart in an eruption of sparks and molten shards.
The broken core flared violently, light searing through the cracks. But Godric didn't slow. His sword was still coming for Lamar's neck.
Lamar slammed his arm down, catching the blade, but not before it tore through his armor and buried itself deep in his shoulder. Blood gushed from the wound and from his mouth as he staggered forward, seizing Godric by the collar and slamming their foreheads together. His grip tightened, his other hand locking around the black blade to hold it in place, refusing to let Godric pull it free.
Godric's amber eyes flicked to the core, splintered, shaking, ready to erupt. And he understood.
A twisted smile split Lamar's face as the core's light blazed to its peak. "Godric Gryffindor… at this very moment, I—Lamar Burgess—declare you my greatest foe." He coughed, a crimson spray staining his grin. "And I am never… letting… go."
The words had barely left Lamar's mouth before the core in his chest screamed. The cracks spiderwebbing its surface flared with a blinding, violent light, the unstable energy within howling like a living thing desperate to tear free.
Godric's grip cinched tighter around the hilt, the steel biting into his palms. His eyes locked on Lamar's, unblinking, burning, as if he could carve straight through the man's soul with nothing but the weight of his glare.
The core ruptured.
And explosion tore the world apart.