The desert trembled under the weight of fury. Every strike, every movement sent shockwaves that shattered sand dunes, flinging fragments of obsidian and bone into the night. The Commander's breath came in ragged, guttural roars, his obsidian armor cracking and sprouting jagged, blackened spikes. The very air warped around him, thick with the stench of death and raw power.
Kairo's crimson eyes glowed brighter, chains rattling like living serpents around him. He had seen the memory of Igron, understood the stakes, and felt the Bone Blade's pulse in the depths of his soul. Every strike, every block, carried intent, skill, and an unyielding will.
The Commander lunged, faster than before, swinging his spear like a whip of jagged obsidian, chains snapping outward to entangle Kairo from every angle. Phantom fangs erupted from the sand, spectral titans summoned by his furious aura, each one a shadow of death with teeth like blades.
Kairo's chains responded as if alive, twisting, snapping, and striking in perfect rhythm. Sparks flew as his Judgement Dance met the relentless onslaught. Each strike tore through phantoms, deflected the spear, and pushed the Commander back — but only slightly.
The Commander roared, a sound that split the desert sky. Black flames licked his armor, and the spikes along his shoulders writhed like serpents. "You… will not… survive this!" he bellowed. Chains lashed outward, tearing the dunes, sending a wave of shrapnel toward Kairo with deadly precision.
Kairo ducked, rolled, and countered. His chains snaked around the spear, forcing the Commander to stagger. The aura surrounding him thickened, suffocating, oppressive — a stench of death so potent it made the phantom titans pause mid-attack, even the sand seeming to recoil.
For the first time, the Commander hesitated, eyes narrowing behind the helm. Rage twisted into recognition. "You… are strong. Too strong…"
Kairo's lips curved into a faint, unyielding smirk. Crimson eyes locked on his foe. "Strong enough to survive. Strong enough to take what belongs to me."
The Commander's roar returned, louder, more feral, as he summoned every ounce of his berserk fury. Chains multiplied, phantom titans swarmed, and the desert became a maelstrom of steel, bone, and black flame. Kairo's chains lashed outward, snapping, coiling, striking with deadly precision, moving as extensions of his own will.
The Judgement Dance flowed like a storm, chains and bone slicing through phantoms, deflecting the obsidian spear with a series of impossibly fast maneuvers. Sparks hissed, sand exploded, and the desert seemed to bend under the intensity of their clash.
And high above, unseen, the air whispered: a storm of destruction had begun, a battle that would echo beyond Hell itself.
Kairo's body burned with exertion, bruised and bloodied, but his mind was calm, calculating. Every strike he took, every counter he unleashed, brought him closer to the inevitable.
The Berserk Commander roared once more, swinging with reckless abandon. The chains hissed. The ground cracked. The night trembled.
This was only the beginning.