Stone crumbled under Thalos' heel as he slid back, the impact of Eryndor's last strike still humming through the plaza. His robes were torn, hair disheveled, but his eyes—those pale, storm-lit eyes—burned hotter than the lightning still crackling along his staff.
Kael didn't give him time to breathe. The younger fighter blurred forward, cloak snapping in the wind, his blade weaving arcs of violet flame. Thalos caught it on his forearm, the clash exploding with sparks that scorched the air. He twisted, redirecting the sword's force and countering with a downward strike that split the flagstones.
But Eryndor was already there. He stepped into the shockwave, body wreathed in a low crackle of energy. His fist shot forward like a thunderclap—straight into Thalos' ribs.
The elder staggered. For the first time, his breath caught, a wet hitch breaking through his control.
"You've… grown dangerous," Thalos muttered, voice sharp as a drawn blade. "But power without years of mastery is nothing."
He surged back, staff spinning, and the ground erupted in arcs of raw lightning. Kael leapt clear, his sword singing as he carved through the storm. Eryndor didn't move. He planted his heel and let the lightning crash into him—absorbing it, drinking it down into his veins until his skin glowed white-hot and his veins sparked violet.
Thalos' eyes widened. "Impossible—"
Thunder answered him.
Eryndor vanished in a single step. Thunder Step carried him across the plaza, behind the elder before the staff could turn. His palm struck like a hammer. The explosion rattled windows, sending shards of glass raining down. Thalos' body lurched forward, just in time to meet Kael's rising blade.
Steel kissed flesh.
But Thalos twisted again, impossibly fast, his palm slamming against Kael's chest. The young fighter flew back, skidding across broken stone. Blood sprayed from his lips.
Eryndor didn't pause. He pressed forward, fists alive with Overdrive, each strike detonating on impact. Thalos blocked, deflected, but the rhythm was slipping. For every parry he made, a new blow slipped past. For every defense he raised, the storm pressed harder.
Finally, with a roar, Thalos caught Eryndor's fist. Lightning surged between them, raw power boiling the air. For a heartbeat, they were locked there—Eryndor pushing forward, Thalos straining back, the world trembling at the collision.
Then Kael reappeared at Thalos' flank, blade burning with violet flame.
Together, they drove the elder to his knees.
The storm broke loose.