The void cracked.
Shards of shattered space floated like broken glass as three figures emerged.
One of them stood tall, golden hair whipping in solar wind, his armor gleaming like a newborn sun. Blades of pure solar light hovered around him, twenty-seven in total, rotating in silence like the rings of some angry god.
Magnus.
Absolute Monarch of the Solar Blades.
He opened his hand, and a sun bloomed behind him — a miniature star, pulsing with lethal heat.
Across from him, floating just above the ruined battlefield, stood Alfred and Aria.
Alfred's fists were wreathed in slow, flickering fire. Not wild — controlled. Heavy. Like the pressure in a volcano just before it breaks. His coat was half-burned already, his chest bare, covered in glowing tattoos that pulsed with every heartbeat. He cracked his neck, fire leaking from his eyes.
