The Sovereign's flames split the world in half.
Mountains melted to rivers of glass, seas boiled into clouds of steam, and armies that had fought for hours were reduced to silhouettes of ash. His halberd swept through the storm like a god's judgment, every arc screaming with the weight of eternity.
Kael stood in the inferno, blood soaking his torn armor, his chest heaving like a beast caged too long. Ashrend trembled in his hand—not from weakness, but from the power thrumming at its core.
The crimson mark on his chest burned.
Not a whisper this time. Not a spark.
A roar.
Lightning black as the void crawled up his arms, wrapping him in veins of destruction. Crimson aura erupted outward, spiraling with shadows until it formed a vast storm, a hurricane of rage and resolve. The battlefield darkened, as though the sun itself dared not look upon what he was becoming.
"Impossible…" gasped one of the Sovereign's generals, falling to his knees.
Lyssandra's eyes widened, horror and awe warring in her gaze. "He's… ascending."
The Sovereign's fire roared higher, his voice booming like thunder across the world.
"Child of ruin! You dare stand as my equal?"
Kael raised Ashrend. His voice was raw, but steady:
"I don't stand as your equal. I stand as your end."
With that, the storm collapsed inward—then exploded.
Crimson Ascendance.
Kael vanished. The Sovereign's eyes barely had time to flare before Ashrend carved across his guard, the halberd nearly wrenched from his grasp. Black lightning split the flames, crimson arcs tearing the sky into shards of scarlet glass.
Kael's movements were no longer human—they were inevitability. Every strike was a death sentence, every step thunder.
The Sovereign countered, wings of fire sweeping, halberd stabbing like a comet. Kael met it with a downward strike so heavy it carved a canyon through the battlefield, armies tumbling into the abyss it left behind.
The world screamed beneath their blows.
And then Kael's blade drove through the Sovereign's chest.
Gasps erupted across the cliffs where allies and enemies alike watched. Darric fell to one knee, clutching his chest as if the wound were his own. Serenya whispered, "He… he's done it."
But Kael's eyes never softened.
The Sovereign didn't fall. His body burned brighter, molten blood spilling as flame. A smile—cold, vicious—twisted his lips.
"You think this vessel is all I am?" the Sovereign growled, gripping Ashrend's edge with his bare, burning hand. "You've merely woken what sleeps behind the throne."
And from the wound, a deeper darkness began to bleed—something older, hungrier, and far more terrible than fire.