The battlefield was swallowed in red light.
Pyrrhagon's chest split apart, molten veins blazing like a second sun. The heat blistered skin, melted stone, and turned the very air into fire. Soldiers too close collapsed screaming, their armor glowing as if pulled straight from a forge.
Then the monster roared — and unleashed its Infernal Collapse.
A river of flame and molten energy surged outward, wide enough to erase the battlefield and hot enough to scar the land for centuries.
Eryndor didn't hesitate.
"Tempest Aegis!"
His storm exploded into existence, wind swirling into a colossal vortex, lightning crackling through its heart. He thrust both arms forward, every muscle screaming as the shield formed — a shimmering wall of storm meeting the apocalypse head-on.
The world shook.
Fire and storm collided, light blinding, sound deafening. Eryndor's boots carved trenches into the ground as he was pushed back inch by inch. His skin blistered under the heat, his veins burned with lightning he could barely control, but he held.
"Move! I'll hold it!" he shouted, voice raw.
Varian's eyes widened. That shield… it wasn't just desperation. It was will. Pure, unbreakable will.
"By the ancestors…" he muttered under his breath.
Calen and Rhydor didn't waste the chance. They darted forward, their spears and blades striking with ruthless precision. Calen drove his spear into a molten joint at the Behemoth's knee, pinning it for a moment. Rhydor vaulted upward, his blade sinking into Pyrrhagon's neck, carving a line of molten blood.
Kael leapt higher still, fists blazing with raw power, and slammed down on the beast's skull. The impact cracked the obsidian hide, stunning the monster as its Infernal Collapse faltered.
Varian saw it — the chance. He raised his greatsword, the steel glowing white-hot.
"For our world!" he bellowed, swinging with all the weight of his bloodline behind him. His blade cleaved straight through the Behemoth's molten chest, splitting the burning core that powered its infernal body.
Pyrrhagon howled, fire spilling from the wound, its collapse of energy shattering into fragmented streams.
The backlash nearly consumed Eryndor. His storm buckled, lightning ripping out of control as the inferno shredded the shield. His knees hit the ground, blood running from his nose and ears, but he refused to let go until the last ember was crushed.
His vision blurred. He barely registered Kael hauling him back before the collapsing energy could swallow him.
Above, Pyrrhagon staggered, its body cracking, molten blood flooding the battlefield like rivers of lava. With one final roar, the Infernal Behemoth collapsed into itself, a mountain of stone and flame crashing down.
Silence followed, broken only by the hiss of cooling rock.
Varian planted his sword into the ground, chest heaving as he looked at the battlefield — then at Eryndor. The boy was barely conscious, skin scorched, but his eyes still carried the storm.
He held it… Varian thought, staring at the young man who had shielded them all from annihilation. He held back an attack that should have erased us — while not even fully healed from his last battle.
A quiet pride welled up in his chest, surprising even him.
If this is the man my daughter has chosen… then the bloodline of Deynar is in good hands. Not as a soldier, not as a hero — but as family. My son-in-law.
His grip tightened on his sword, and for the first time in years, Varian allowed himself a small, fierce smile.
Eryndor, half-conscious in Kael's arms, forced his eyes open one last time.
"Lyanna… the baby… are they safe?" he whispered.
Kael grinned, bruised and bloodied. "Safe. You did it, storm boy. You did it."
But before relief could set in, the ground trembled again. Far off in the distance, a shadow stirred — larger, darker, and infinitely more terrifying than Pyrrhagon.
The war for the continent was far from over.