The Sovereign's blade descended like a world-breaking judgment, each strike cutting through sky, earth, and soul alike. Kael met it with both hands on his greatsword, red lightning cracking along his arms, his aura blazing so fiercely the very air screamed as it burned away.
Every clash rattled mountains. Every step they took carved trenches into the battlefield. Shadow tides froze mid-motion, terrified of the power boiling out of their duel.
"Still standing, boy?" the Sovereign's voice rumbled, neither mockery nor admiration, but a cold statement of fact. His aura bled into the horizon, swallowing sun and stars.
Kael spat blood, wiped it with the back of his gauntlet, and smirked through crimson-stained teeth.
"I don't stand." His eyes blazed red, the crimson aura tightening into a storm. "I advance."
He surged forward, his blade erupting with black lightning. The Sovereign's greatsword met it head-on, the impact detonating the sky into shards of burning night. A shockwave of red and black radiance hurled back even Kaelen and the others, forcing them to brace against the tide.
For a moment, Kael saw it—the Sovereign flinching, his stance shifting ever so slightly. The ancient tyrant wasn't untouchable.
"You bleed," Kael growled, pressing harder, his strength pushing beyond mortal bounds. "That means you can fall."
The Sovereign's eyes narrowed, violet light gleaming coldly. A whisper of something—annoyance? Wariness?—passed across his features.
And then the Sovereign laughed. Not mockery this time, but genuine, terrible amusement.
"Good. Show me the heresy of your existence. Show me what dares to defy the order I forged with blood and eternity."
The battlefield screamed as their blades locked once more—Kael pouring every ounce of defiance into his strikes, the Sovereign answering with the crushing weight of a thousand conquered ages.