The dragon and the creature of ash clashed in a world-ending cacophony. Black flames devoured ash, ash smothered flames. The white space cracked in places, revealing glimpses of reality—shards of red sky, tatters of the outside world.
Kael leaped from the dragon's back.
He fell dozens of meters, black fire enveloping his fists. Maëldor, transformed into a titan of incandescent ash, raised a massive hand to crush him.
Kael struck it.
The impact was terrible.
The ash hand cracked, burning shards flying. Maëldor roared in pain and retreated. Kael landed on the ground, barely bending his knees.
"You're big," he said. "But not solid."
"You'll see what solidity means."
Maëldor struck with his fist. Kael dodged, rolled sideways, rose. The ground cratered where the blow had landed. White debris flew.
"Come," said Kael. "Hand to hand. No magic. Just strength."
"You think you can beat me bare-handed?"
"I think you never learned to fight without your ashes."
Maëldor roared. He charged at Kael, his enormous fists hammering the ground. Kael danced between the blows, precise, economical. He struck the knuckles, the wrists, the elbows. Each impact cracked the crust of ash.
"You're fast," Maëldor growled.
"And you're slow."
Kael lunged. He climbed along the ash arm, running across the burning surface. Maëldor tried to grab him, but Kael was too quick. He reached the shoulder, jumped, and struck the temple.
The ash skull split.
Maëldor fell to his knees. The ground trembled.
"You see?" said Kael, landing. "Size isn't everything."
"You haven't beaten me yet."
"No. But I will."
Maëldor rose. His titanic form was cracking everywhere. Streams of grey lava oozed from his wounds. He raised his arms, and a storm of ash descended upon the arena.
Kael shielded his face.
"You're still hiding behind your dust."
"It's my strength."
"It's your weakness."
Kael struck the ground.
A pure shockwave, without magic, just brute force. The ash scattered. Maëldor staggered.
"You can't win, Kael."
"I didn't come to win. I came to break you."
Kael lunged again.
The hand-to-hand combat resumed, intense, savage. Maëldor struck like a titan, Kael like a blade. The blows echoed in the empty space. Flesh tore. Blood flowed.
At one point, Maëldor grabbed Kael by the arm and slammed him violently to the ground. Kael bounced, rolled, rose. His shoulder bled, but he smiled.
"That's all?"
Maëldor roared. He charged, claws fully extended. Kael didn't retreat. He waited until the last instant, pivoted, and struck the flank.
The ash crust exploded.
Maëldor collapsed on one knee.
"How... a simple blow..."
"Not simple. Precise."
Kael stood before him.
"You wanted this duel. You have it. Now look at me."
Maëldor raised his head.
"I won't beg."
"I'm not asking you to."
Kael raised his fist.
"But I'm going to make you understand one thing."
He struck.
The ash skull cracked further. Maëldor fell forward, arms trembling.
"The Neverdie Realm is not prey. And I am not a king to be challenged lightly."
"I understand."
"Not yet."
Kael placed a hand on his opponent's head.
"You will withdraw. You will recall your troops. And you will tell all the other kings what you saw here."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll break you. Here. Now."
Maëldor gasped. His ash form was cracking more and more, revealing his original body—burned, exhausted.
"I withdraw."
"Good."
Kael released the pressure.
"The Krell basin is mine. The Ash Road will remain closed. And your Court will attempt nothing more against my kingdom."
"You are merciless."
"No. I am patient. But my patience ends here."
Maëldor let himself fall onto his back, breathing with difficulty.
"You've changed."
"Yes."
"Before, you would have killed me."
"Before, I would have been wrong."
Kael turned away.
The white space began to dissipate. The Dragon of Despair, which had stayed back, let out one last roar before disappearing into a black tear.
The outside world reappeared.
The hills, the banners, the silent soldiers.
Kael stepped out of the arena, his step heavy, blood flowing from his wounds.
Kira ran to him.
"You're alive."
"Yes."
"You won."
"Yes."
"And him?"
"He lives. But he won't return."
Kira looked at Maëldor, sprawled on the ground, half-conscious.
"You could have killed him."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because a dead king can't tell what he saw."
Kael placed a hand on Kira's shoulder.
"Let's go home."
"And the basin?"
"It's ours."
The soldiers of the Neverdie Realm let out a cry of victory—immense, savage, rolling across the hills.
Kael did not look back.
He walked toward the palace, the black fire still in his veins.