The heavens split open with a roar of thunder as Kazel hurled Okhist skyward, the clash dragging both men into the storm's heart. Above them, the Blue Phoenix descended, its wings blotting out the clouds, each beat scattering waves of frost that crystallized the very rain into daggers. With a screech that made the mountains tremble, it opened its beak and spewed a torrent of jagged ice.
Kazel's grin only widened. His soaked hair clung to his face, his bruised frame trembling with exhilaration, but his blue eyes burned hotter than ever. This—this was his realm. Not halls of gold, not crowns of peace, but the chaos of blades and blood.
He kicked off the rooftop, sword raised high, his voice carrying through the storm."This battlefield is mine!"
Okhist swung his mammoth-forged axe, calling on the brute weight of his spirit beast. The phantom tusks behind him slammed forward, aiming to impale Kazel mid-air. At the same instant, the Phoenix's icy breath scythed downward, a river of frozen death.
Kazel didn't retreat. He didn't evade. He amplified.
Soul force rippled through his veins, his jagged blade glowing like a shard of lightning itself. With a single slash, he cleaved into the Phoenix's frozen torrent, splitting the cascade of ice into twin waterfalls that shattered harmlessly against the ruins below. His follow-up twist sent the blade meeting Okhist's axe head-on. The clash rang like thunder, the impact splitting the clouds above them.
The Blue Phoenix shrieked in fury, banking sharply in the storm. Shards of sleet rained down like arrows, pelting both combatants. Kazel roared in defiance, his voice melding with the storm.
"Come then! Bird! Beast! Knight! I'll carve all of you into my victory song!"
He spun, his blade chaining slash after slash, each swing so wild and forceful it was less a duel and more a campaign of war. Okhist found himself driven back, his axe trembling under the pressure, his teeth gritting as he was forced to defend like a soldier outmatched. The Phoenix dove again, wings whipping hurricanes, its screech shaking even the foundations of the Fang.
But Kazel only laughed harder, stepping through torrents of ice, dancing in the storm as though leading an army unseen—his battlefield, his sanctuary, his throne of war.
Okhist's chest heaved as he staggered through the storm, boots slipping against the rain-soaked tiles of the Fang. His mammoth spirit flickered behind him, tusks cracked from Kazel's relentless fury.
(If I can just—escape, regroup—)
But when he turned, Kazel was already there. A shadow of blue eyes and jagged steel, his breath steady despite the blood running down his temple.
"Where do you think you're going?" Kazel's voice was low, a growl swallowed by thunder. "Beast or order—it ends tonight."
Okhist's panic spiked. He swung his axe blindly, but Kazel met it with a single backhand slash that shook the air.
And then—the heavens threw another spear of ice. A giant icicle tore free from the clouds, tumbling like a divine judgment. Its trajectory angled straight for the Curved Blade Sect's quarters.
Nobu's pupils shrank. His hand darted to his katana, Saya already drawing breath for her own strike. But before either could act—
The icicle shattered.
No crack of blade, no flash of light, only the instant collapse into thousands of harmless fragments that fell like glittering snow.
Saya and Nobu's heads snapped toward the roofline. There, a silhouette stood beneath the storm. Not a single raindrop touched him, as if even the heavens bent their flow to avoid his presence. His sword remained sheathed, and yet the evidence was undeniable.
Saya whispered, almost trembling, "Grandmaster…"
Nobu swallowed hard, gripping his hilt tighter though his gut told him it would be useless. They had not even seen the sword move. Not the draw. Not the strike. Nothing. Only the aftermath—the world split apart and undone.
And still, in the raging storm, Kazel pressed forward. His jagged blade rose once more, his voice cutting through wind and rain like a battle horn.
"Okhist! Don't you dare crawl away—die with your beast, die with your name!"
The storm reached its crescendo as the Blue Phoenix spread its wings wide, blotting out what little moonlight filtered through the blackened clouds. Its feathers glimmered with pale frost, each beat of its wings casting shards of ice that ripped across rooftops and shattered against stone.
Then—its cry.
A piercing, bone-chilling screech that silenced the clash below. Windows rattled, beasts cowered, even Okhist's mammoth faltered. The sound was not just a cry of battle, but a proclamation: this sky is mine.
From the streets, the Fang quivered under the might of the legendary beast.
Atop another rooftop, Elder Juni of the Heavenless Bow stood, snow-patterned robes already drenched from the rain. Her bow was steady, but her face betrayed the weight of the choice before her. She had sworn neutrality in sect matters here, yet if she let the Phoenix rampage… the Fang itself would be torn apart.
Her jaw clenched. She raised her hand, summoning a spectral bow of white light, its limbs formed of frost and wind.
"So be it," she muttered, voice hard as stone. She drew back, and the storm bent around her, thunder answering as she loosed her first arrow straight into the heavens.
The Blue Phoenix shrieked again, this time in anger, not dominance.
Not far from her vantage, on the balcony of the Duskwind Inn, Liodra had been watching the chaos unfold with eyes that burned violet. Rain streamed down her long hair, her amethyst robes clinging to her sinewy form. And then—she laughed. A low, feral laugh that drowned even the storm for those close enough to hear.
"Hah! Finally!" she shouted, uncorking her gourd. She drank deep, the wine mixing with rain down her chin, before slamming it against the railing. Her muscles tensed like coiled steel, her spirit beast's aura flickering to life.
She jumped, the wood cracking beneath her feet as she launched herself into the storm. With a whistle of wind, she landed between Kazel's battleground and Juni's arrows, her grin wide and dangerous.
"Don't have all the fun without me, boys!" she shouted, the storm gleaming off her gourd now brandished as a weapon.
The Fang was no longer just Kazel versus Okhist. It was now a battlefield of titans—sect elders, kings of the past, and a beast of legend thrashing in the sky.
The rain came down in sheets, heavy and merciless, but not half as merciless as Kazel.
His jagged blade crashed again and again into Okhist's defenses, sparks bursting with every strike. Each clash was not just steel against steel—it was Kazel's fury battering down the mammoth knight's pride. Okhist gritted his teeth, muscles straining, veins bulging as he tried to meet the storm with his own might. But Kazel was not simply attacking—he was hunting.
Every slash was angled to kill, every thrust followed through with enough force to break bone if steel faltered. It wasn't elegance, nor a dance of blades—it was slaughter wrapped in relentless precision. Blood flew, painting the storm red, but none of it came from Kazel. His expression was cold, his eyes lit with the joy of domination, the joy of crushing what stood before him.
Okhist staggered, disbelief etched into his face. His axe trembled in his hands, his breath ragged. He had fought countless battles, slain beasts and men alike, yet never—never—had he felt so utterly dismantled.
"Monster…" he hissed through bloodied lips.
"Correct," Kazel snarled, his blade hammering down one final time.
The jagged sword tore through axe and armor, splitting both as if they were nothing. A final spray of crimson exploded in the storm as Okhist's head tore free from his shoulders, hurled into the air.
The world seemed to slow. The severed head spun, eyes still wide in shock, before gravity carried it upward in its arc—straight toward the great Blue Phoenix above.
The beast shrieked, its icy aura exploding in fury as the head bounced off its wing and fell into the abyss below. Its cry shook the heavens, not just rage, but a challenge now fully turned to the one man who dared to claim the storm as his own.
Kazel, drenched in rain and blood, lifted his jagged blade and roared back at the sky—defiant, triumphant, and hungering still.
The heavens split with thunder as the Blue Phoenix descended in fury, its screech rattling through the bones of everyone on the field. Its wings spread wide, casting jagged shadows across the rain-slick ground, and with a single beat of those wings, sheets of icy needles rained down like divine judgment.
But Kazel did not flinch. His jagged blade gleamed through the storm as he leapt into the chaos like a war general returning to his beloved stage.
Elder Juni's bow twanged, arrows of concentrated energy screaming skyward to intercept the Phoenix's strikes. Each shot cracked through the storm, forcing the beast's head to twist or wings to shift.
Liodra laughed, vaulting into the fight with a drunken spin, violet hair lashing like a whip. From her gourd she spat liquid that burst into flames upon contact with her spirit art, searing the bird's feathers and forcing it lower.
Kazel was relentless, a blur of jagged steel tearing through torrents of ice. He drove forward without pause, each slash carving wounds not meant for elegance, but for inevitability. His style was not that of a swordsman seeking perfection—it was the brutality of a tyrant who demanded results.
The Phoenix shrieked, fury mingling with agony, its wings thrashing storms into being. But Kazel found his opening. He crashed against it with unyielding ferocity, his blade amplified until every strike left rending scars of power across its feathers.
The ground quaked as Liodra's flames flared, Juni's arrows pierced, and Kazel's jagged steel cut again and again. The three were not allies, but each strike of theirs pinned the Blue Phoenix further down, their wills converging for one goal: to bring the beast low.
And then—Kazel leapt high through the storm, blue eyes blazing like lightning. His blade carved across one wing, severing sinew, muscle, and bone in a spray of blood and feathers. The Phoenix screeched in horror, its balance broken.
Another slash came, merciless and heavy, cleaving through the other wing's joint. The rain hissed as the Phoenix crashed to the earth, its wings dragging helplessly in the mud. Its once majestic form now writhed, grounded, incapable of flight.
Kazel landed in front of it, rain washing the blood from his blade. His gaze was merciless, his breath steady—his pursuit had never wavered.
The Blue Phoenix thrashed, but the storm no longer belonged to it.
It belonged to Kazel.
The rain poured heavier, masking the stench of blood as the Blue Phoenix struggled to rise. Its mangled wings twitched uselessly in the mud, but its pride still burned. It screeched, a piercing cry that made the heavens shudder, and the glow at its throat lit up the storm—icy blue, pulsing brighter and brighter.
Its beak opened, and a torrent of thumb-sized ice spikes erupted in a relentless spray, a machine gun of frozen death.
Liodra darted forward, laughter bubbling even through the chaos. She moved like a dancer, violet hair snapping behind her as her bare feet shattered spike after spike, each parried with the swiftness of a predator. Her fists cracked the shards into dust, every strike a drunken symphony of destruction.
Kazel stood at the center, his jagged blade flashing like a storm-tossed star. He met the barrage head-on, every swing carving through dozens of shards, steel singing against ice. Sparks mixed with frozen mist, and though the storm pressed against him, he pressed harder, his rhythm unbreaking, brutal, inevitable.
On the other side, Elder Juni's bow thrummed without pause. Her arrows flew faster than sight, each one bursting a shard before it could find flesh. Her snow-patterned robe flared in the storm winds, and though her face was calm, her eyes blazed sharp with focus.
The three of them stood in unison before the legendary beast—each with their own style, their own power, their own will. The storm could have swallowed the world whole, but in that moment, they were immovable.
The Blue Phoenix shrieked louder, frustrated, its glowing throat dimming as the endless barrage faltered.
And still, Kazel took a step forward.
The silhouette finally moved. A hush seemed to fall over the storm itself as Nobu and Saya tilted their heads upward. The grandmaster—aloof, untouchable, godlike—was airborne, robes snapping in the rain.
( Now? ) both thought, their stomachs tightening.
Liodra froze mid-motion, gourd in hand, lips parting in awe. Elder Juni's bow wavered as her sharp eyes followed the figure. Neither had ever seen the grandmaster act. Until now.
Kazel, however, did not marvel. His jaw clenched, eyes burning, bloodied blade still poised. Rage boiled inside him."Tch!" He spat the sound like venom.
Then—light.
The sword of the grandmaster flashed once, swift as thought. A single arc of power, descending from the heavens, a meteor of steel. It split the sky as if even the storm feared to resist.
The Fang shook to its foundations. Tiles and timbers cracked, lightning scattered through the clouds, and the Blue Phoenix shrieked under the force.
"?!" The grandmaster's amber eyes widened—not at the beast, but at the boy who moved against his strike.
"HOW DARE YOU?!" Kazel's roar ripped through rain and thunder alike.
The meteor slash had not struck the Phoenix cleanly. It had torn across Kazel's shoulder instead, splitting flesh from collar to flank, blood spurting down his side. And yet—he did not falter.
Through that agony, Kazel's glare burned hotter, locked on the grandmaster above, fury unyielding, defiance absolute.
Everyone stood frozen—Liodra, Juni, Nobu, Saya—breath caught in their throats. The impossible had just happened: someone had taken the grandmaster's strike head-on and still stood.
Kazel's voice was low but savage, every word a vow."This… is my kill."
And with a savage swing, he severed the head of the Blue Phoenix in a single, merciless stroke—never breaking his gaze from the hovering grandmaster.
The legendary beast's head crashed into the storm-soaked earth. Its body shuddered once, then collapsed in a tremor that rippled through the Fang.
The battlefield was silent save for the rain.
All eyes were not on the fallen Phoenix.They were on Kazel—bloodied, seething, glaring at the untouchable grandmaster.