The Sovereign steadied himself, flames writhing violently around his fractured wings. His golden aura split the storm for a heartbeat, a tide of radiance that sought to reclaim the heavens from Kael's scar. His voice rang like the toll of creation's bell:
"I am the Crown Eternal! I decree dominion over flame, flesh, and fate!"
The world responded.
Every torch, every hearth, every ember in the kingdoms below ignited at once. Flames bent upward in worship, spiraling into the sky as rivers of fire. They converged on the Sovereign, weaving into a burning mantle that dwarfed mountains. His halberd reformed, no longer forged of flame, but of living suns chained together.
Kael stood unbowed, storm coiling tighter around him. His blade Ashrend pulsed with a hunger that matched his heartbeat. He could feel the weight of every gaze below—soldiers, kings, even children—staring skyward. Not in prayer to the Sovereign, but in silent hope for him.
He spat blood into the storm, eyes blazing crimson.
"Your crown burns the world. Mine will free it."
He surged forward.
The Sovereign's halberd fell like the judgment of gods, splitting cloud and storm. Kael met it with Ashrend, black lightning detonating in every direction. For an instant, the sky itself was torn apart—half flame, half storm, an eternal battlefield suspended above mortal eyes.
The clash hurled shockwaves down upon the world. Oceans recoiled into towering walls, mountains groaned and split, forests ignited from the heat alone. And still, they pressed harder, neither yielding.
The Sovereign snarled, voice splitting the air.
"Bend, boy! Your storm is fleeting—my fire is forever!"
Kael roared back, his aura surging to a breaking point.
"Then I'll be the storm that drowns forever!"
Lightning and flame coiled, a spiral of annihilation that threatened to devour sky, sea, and stone alike.