Above the battlefield, storm clouds twisted in chaos as Arkas and Brutus clashed with enough force to shake the sky itself.
Their bodies moved like bolts of lightning and flame, Arkas with his lightning trident, Brutus with his heavy gauntlets, both of them Grandmasters honed by decades of war. Thunder cracked as they crashed together, sparks flying from each strike.
Arkas jabbed forward with a sweep of his trident. Brutus ducked beneath it and responded with a fiery punch that cracked the air and sent waves of heat downward.
They circled each other in the sky. Wind howled between them. Brutus came again, punching upward with a flame-covered uppercut that Arkas barely dodged.
Arkas twisted in midair, flipped above him, and drove his trident down like a spear. Brutus caught it between both gauntlets, flames bursting around his arms.
"You haven't changed at all," Brutus spat, fire crackling along his body.
"I changed enough to survive," Arkas growled back. "You didn't."
