The laughter of the Ancients still echoed between the shattered fragments of heaven.
It was hollow, distorted—filled with pride and madness.
Then… silence.
The dust began to settle.
A shadow moved among the ruins.
The Human Emperor raised his hand, and Jax's body floated upward, dragged by invisible threads.
His armor was shattered, his flesh cracked and glowing—golden light leaking through every wound.
Blood and divine light mingled in the air, leaving a trail that seemed to mourn his fall.
"Pathetic," the Emperor muttered, walking closer. "And yet… you still look at me as if we're equals."
Every step he took made the ground tremble.
The air bent around him—heavy, suffocating.
"I'll say it once more," he thundered, his voice echoing across the ruins.
"Lick the ground… or I'll make you wish you were never born."
Jax's clone said nothing.
His breathing was ragged, his body trembling, but his eyes never wavered.
He didn't speak.
He didn't bow.
