The tension in the void-cracked battlefield hung heavy, like a storm waiting to tear itself open. Dust, shards of stone, and lingering void energy swirled around the colossal crater where Lucien and Vryndor faced each other.
Lucien's pale eyes—flickering with the faint glow of Abyssal insight—tracked Vryndor's every micro-movement. Calm. Unflinching. A small, arrogant smirk played on his lips, but his muscles were coiled like a spring ready to snap. The calm before the storm.
Vryndor, by contrast, radiated energy in waves. Every breath he drew stirred the air, every step sent microquakes across the fractured ground. The titan's obsidian armor shimmered, each vein of power pulsing as if alive. He cracked his knuckles and grinned.
"You've been enjoying this too much, Lucien," he said. His voice was low, booming, vibrating through the fractured void. "Time to see if your arrogance survives my strike."
Lucien tilted his head, unmoved. "I've survived more than strikes. Show me what you've got."
Kaelith, perched on a floating pillar of crystalline light a few hundred meters away, chuckled, crossing his arms. "Ohhh… this is going to be entertaining. Finally, a move that might even faze him."
Vryndor's body began to hum, a low vibration that resonated with the very fabric of the battlefield. Lucien's Abyssal Eyes narrowed; he could feel the shift in intent. Every combatant, every observer could sense the tension in the air spike. Even the shards of stone around them seemed to brace.
With a sudden motion, Vryndor leapt backward, putting distance between them. Then he paused midair, energy condensing around his fist—a swirling vortex of raw, condensed force that bent light and shadow alike.
"Name your first strike," Lucien murmured, voice even but carrying a weight that made Vryndor hesitate for just a fraction.
The titan's grin widened, feral. "Oblivion's Crush!"
And then he hurled it.
The fist shot forward, leaving a trailing distortion like a crack in reality itself. The air seemed to ripple, time bending slightly around the trajectory. It wasn't just raw strength; it carried intent, precision, and a horrifying destructive potential. Rocks disintegrated midair, the atmosphere itself screamed as if warning itself to flee.
Lucien's smirk never wavered. With a flick of his wrist and a subtle pivot of his body, he met the strike halfway, palm colliding with Vryndor's fist.
The impact was deafening, resonating like a planet shattering and reforming in one heartbeat. Ground trembled, dust cascaded from the edges of the crater, and the echo of the collision carried across the void surrounding them.
Vryndor staggered back a step, surprised. Not that he expected to defeat Lucien, but the sheer resistance—Lucien's palm was like granite against energy—was beyond what he anticipated.
"Not bad," Lucien said lightly, voice carrying over the roar. "You've been practicing."
Vryndor growled. "Not enough to stop me!"
What followed was a series of movements that defied expectation. Lucien moved first, advancing like a shadow. His strikes were short, precise, minimal motion, yet each landed in a place that made Vryndor's energy flare defensively. Every jab, every kick, every twist of the body felt choreographed, surgical, yet effortless.
Vryndor countered with brute power. His swings bent air itself, his stomps cracked stone, his knees and elbows were like battering rams. He adapted, predicting some of Lucien's subtle movements and forcing him to respond in kind.
Kaelith, observing, whistled. "He's actually having fun. Lucien might be enjoying himself too much if he's letting this dance go on."
Lucien's smirk widened. "Fun, yes. But never enough to lose focus."
The collision of fist against fist, leg against leg, knee against forearm, was so fast that streaks of afterimages remained in the void, ghostly echoes of their movements. Vryndor's Oblivion's Crush continued to pulse in intervals as if lingering, yet Lucien countered with precise strikes that destabilized the energy mid-flight, sending fragments scattering harmlessly across the battlefield.
Vryndor's eyes narrowed, fury and respect mingling. "Fine. Then I'll add another layer."
He gritted his teeth and lunged, energy coiling around both fists now. "Oblivion's Maw!"
This strike wasn't just a punch. The air around Vryndor warped violently, forming jagged shards of energy that spun around him like orbiting meteors. With a roar, he leapt forward, each spin of his body turning the attack into a series of linked explosions, intended to overwhelm Lucien's defenses.
Lucien's eyes glimmered faintly with Abyssal insight. He didn't move at first—he read the intent, the flow, the pattern, the exact moment the energy would peak. Then, with a fluid motion almost too fast to follow, he danced through the orbiting shards, sliding along the edges of destruction, leaving sparks and distorted space in his wake.
Vryndor's attack collided with empty air in the final arc, but Lucien was waiting just beyond it. A single palm strike, calm and precise, tapped Vryndor's chest—not with the intent to destroy, but to test the resistance.
The impact sent Vryndor staggering backward, energy rippling outward, but again, the titan wasn't defeated. He laughed. A deep, guttural sound that shook the debris around them.
"Your calm is infuriating," he said. "I'm supposed to break you, and yet…"
Lucien's smirk returned. "And yet, here you are, still standing. Impressive. But predictable."
Kaelith was practically vibrating with excitement. "He's reading every move! Lucien's playing, and Vryndor doesn't even realize how much he's learning and teaching at the same time! I'd pay to see this from the front row."
Even some of the observers—the metaphysical entities who lingered at the edge of the void—whispered in awe. "He's in base… and still moves like a master of all combat arts. Incredible…"
Vryndor's aura flared, coiling around him like a storm. He clenched his fists, the ground beneath him cracking wider, dust spiraling into tornados. "Then let's see how you handle this, Lucien. I'm not holding back anymore!"
Lucien tilted his head, expression unchanged. "Do what you must. I'll enjoy seeing your resolve."
The two collided again, faster than light could follow, fists meeting in a clash that sent shockwaves rippling across the fragmented battlefield. Each strike left afterimages, bending the light of the void and warping the shadows behind them. The planet itself quaked, and cracks widened as if reality itself was taking note of the duel.
Lucien's movements were precise, minimal, slicing through Vryndor's force. Vryndor's movements were raw, beautiful in their chaos, like a hammer meeting a blade. The exchange left debris and energy arcs hanging in the void, remnants of the battle frozen in midair for a fraction of a second before collapsing.
Kaelith leaned forward, almost shouting. "This… THIS is what I call a fight! I haven't seen controlled base power this tight in centuries!"
Vryndor pulled back, panting but smiling. He was bloodied, scratched, but far from defeated. Energy arched around him, charging the next named strike. Lucien's Abyssal Eyes glimmered.
"You're next," Vryndor growled. "I'm not holding anything back this time. Prepare yourself—Cataclysmic Maelstrom!"
Lucien's smirk widened. "Finally… now we dance."
The air rippled violently, stone cracked, and light bent around the growing tension. Dust and void energy spiraled in a vortex as the two prepared for the next exchange—one that could shatter continents, tear voids, and test their skill to the absolute limit.
And all who watched, from Kaelith to distant observers in metaphysical spaces, leaned in.
Because the next move would either define the fight… or redefine the battlefield entirely.
The battlefield, shattered but alive, waited. Two titans, one strike away from chaos. And this was only their base form.