He looked at the Corrupter's broken form, still writhing in fragments of shadow, and spoke with quiet certainty.
"This ends with me."
The ridge obeyed. The sky leaned. And the Dragon-Phoenix stood alone, unchallenged.
The silence wings that had once cloaked the dawn spasmed, threads curling like burned parchment. The fused crown rattled, fragments scattering sparks of black flame, each ember smelling of iron rust and rotting lilies. The ribs in the Corrupter's chest pulsed wildly, trying to stitch absence into substance, but every beat sent shadows coughing instead of breathing.
Andy advanced. He did not run, did not flare — he walked. The earth carried his weight as if grateful. Fire spilled gently from his shoulders, not as wild blaze but as disciplined banners; water streamed along the Oathblade's fuller, catching glints of light that didn't exist; wind gathered beneath his heels, raising faint spirals of dust that smelled of storm before rain. Stone pulsed at his calves, humming with the bass of mountains.
The villagers who still dared to watch from the caves felt the air shift. The panic that had clawed their throats slackened, replaced by awe so heavy it bowed their knees. One boy whispered, "He's… not fighting. He's deciding."
The Corrupter staggered upright. His not-mouth cracked into a jagged grin of resistance, wings snapping outward in a storm of shadows. He hurled silence forward like a tidal wave, strong enough to drown mountains.
Andy raised the Oathblade and exhaled.
"Inferno Gale Slash."
The strike was almost casual. Fire braided with wind into a crescent of white-gold that split the silence wave clean down the middle. Heat scalded the edges, gale carried the cut further, scattering the wall like petals in a storm. The scent of singed resin rolled across the ridge, sharp and clean.
The Corrupter flinched, crown sparks flickering. He gathered again, ribs glowing, dragging stolen stars into a spear of absence that warped air around it.
Andy stepped forward and cut again.
"Tidal Fang Breaker."
Water erupted along the blade's spine, shaped into jagged teeth anchored in stone. The spear shattered on impact, fragments turning into harmless drizzle that smelled faintly of salt and iron. Steam hissed upward, warm against every villager's cheek, as if a storm tide had broken on their behalf.
Aurelia's laugh rang out hoarse from behind him, full of feral pride. "Look at him. He's toying with it."
Nia's lips parted in something between awe and prayer. "No… he's balancing it."
The Corrupter screamed, this time a true sound — guttural, furious, afraid. His wings bent together, threads twisting into a dome of silence meant to crush everything within. The air thickened like tar, heavy enough to choke.
Andy did not falter. He planted his heel, let the stone hum louder, and lifted the Oathblade high.
"Stormshatter Pillar."
Gale braided with earth, pressure so fierce the ground itself obeyed. A column of wind and stone roared upward from beneath the Corrupter, exploding through the dome. Silence splintered, cracks running outward in patterns too perfect to be chance — geometry written by law. Dust filled the air, dry and bitter, laced with the tang of ozone.
The Corrupter collapsed to one knee, ribs cracked, crown pieces spinning loose. He raised one wrong hand, dragging shadows into claws, and swiped desperately.
Andy stepped in. His breath did not shake, his pulse did not rush. The Oathblade flared with all four elements — ember coiling around tide, gale threading through stone, phoenix light fusing them whole.
"Ember-Terra Spiral."
The blade drilled forward, a corkscrew of fire and stone laced with water's precision and wind's speed. It tore through the claw, through the ribs, through the silence wings. Black fire erupted, but instead of consuming, it guttered, smelling of quenched ash and last night's rain.
The Corrupter convulsed. His crown cracked, three shards breaking away, falling like meteors into the soil.
Andy stood over him, aura bright but steady, wings of fire-feather and dragon-scale spread. His breath was slow. His expression calm. Not a drop of sweat marked his skin.
The system confirmed what the world already knew.
[Dragon-Phoenix Form Active]
Aura Stability: Perfect
Dominance: Absolute
Enemy Integrity: 18%
Recommendation: Execute
The Corrupter raised his head, silence trembling around his not-mouth. His voice scraped the air like knives on glass. "You… carry… too much…"
Andy tilted the Oathblade. Fire curled across its edge, water hissed along its fuller, wind whispered against its length, stone hummed beneath. Light crowned it all, phoenix's memory turning steel into promise.
"No," Andy said, voice level, final. "I carry just enough."
He cut.
The strike was not named. It didn't need one. Every element answered — fire seared, tide cleaved, wind carried, stone anchored, phoenix purified. The Corrupter's crown shattered in a single blow, ribs snapping like brittle wood. Silence scattered into echoes that refused to return.
The ridge trembled once, then steadied.
Villagers poured from caves, eyes wide, mouths open in awe that finally belonged to them.
Andy lowered the Oathblade. His wings folded. His aura dimmed but did not falter. For the first time in any battle since the chain had chosen him, he did not look tired. His chest rose evenly, his hands were steady, his eyes calm.
Aurelia whistled low, leaning on her daggers. "You didn't even sweat."
Nia's smile was small, but her eyes burned with something fierce. "He didn't need to."
Andy let the silence return — not the Corrupter's silence, but one earned, full of breath and hope. The Dragon-Phoenix stood unchallenged.
And the world learned what it meant to see a fight already won.