The world went still.
Vorathrax's chest pulsed with molten light, a blinding glow that painted the horizon crimson. The beast reared back, claws digging trenches into the earth, wings of shadow and flame unfurling wide.
The ground trembled beneath its fury.
"Gods…" Calen whispered, sweat dripping down his brow.
Varian's voice cut through the chaos, steady but grim. "That attack… it's called the Eclipse Cataclysm." His gaze never left the growing sphere of molten fire gathering in Vorathrax's chest. "If it fires, everything for a thousand leagues is gone. Half a continent—burned to nothing but ash."
Soldiers froze. Some dropped their weapons. The very mention of half a continent gone was enough to strip the will from any man.
But Eryndor stepped forward.
Lightning laced across his arms, veins of light dancing beneath his skin. Wind whipped around him, tugging at his black hoodie and sweatpants, his aura alive with wrath and calm all at once.
He clenched his fist.
"Then I'll stop it."
Vorathrax roared, and the Cataclysm unleashed.
A beam of molten fire and shadow, wide enough to engulf cities, tore across the battlefield. The ground it passed over didn't burn — it simply ceased to exist, erased in an instant.
The soldiers screamed. Kael and Calen braced. Even Varian flinched.
But Eryndor didn't move. He planted his feet. Lightning screamed from his body, arcs of blue slicing through the blackened air.
His storm surged, forming a vortex that roared louder than the Calamity's blast. The winds screamed like a thousand dragons, the lightning sharpened into blinding spears.
He pulled it all inward, his body trembling but his will unbreakable.
Final Technique: Storm's Judgement.
He struck forward with an open palm.
The storm erupted.
The world split in two.
Lightning cascaded upward like rivers of light, carving through the molten blast. Winds howled into the core of the attack, shredding it apart, scattering flames and shadow into harmless sparks.
Vorathrax's Cataclysm, a blast meant to erase continents, was unraveled by one man.
And before the beast could roar in denial—
Eryndor was already there.
His fist drove straight into the creature's chest, storm energy condensed into a single point.
The impact detonated.
The Calamity Titan's body burst with cracks of molten light, its armor fracturing, its core shattering into a storm-lit explosion that tore the sky apart.
Vorathrax collapsed with a final, deafening roar — a mountain of flame and shadow brought to its knees. And then, silence.
The Calamity was no more.
Three days later, the city stood in mourning.
At the central plaza, banners hung low, black cloth draped across statues. A sea of soldiers, families, and survivors gathered, their faces drawn with grief and pride.
At the front, a single casket stood draped in the crest of the city guard.
Captain Tharen Vos.
The man who had rallied his soldiers against certain death, who had bought time with his courage when hope was gone.
Varian stepped forward, his booming voice carrying over the square.
"Men and women of this land — today we stand alive not because of walls, not because of armies, but because of sacrifice. Captain Tharen Vos gave his life on the front line, as did many of his comrades. They stood against the impossible, not for glory, but for us — for our children, for our future."
His voice cracked for the briefest moment, then steadied again. "Their names will be written into eternity. Their courage will never be forgotten."
The crowd bowed their heads. Even hardened soldiers wept.
Behind them, Eryndor stood in silence, Lyanna at his side, her hand gripping his tightly. He wore no smile, no pride. Only quiet respect.
Because he knew the truth — no matter how powerful he became, it was the ordinary men who had bled first to hold the line, so that he could arrive in time.
The days that followed were filled with work. Soldiers cleared the ruins, masons rebuilt walls, healers tended to the wounded. The air was heavy with loss, but also relief.
For despite facing the wrath of a Calamity, not a single civilian had died.
Children laughed again in the streets. Merchants reopened their stalls. Families reunited, scarred but alive.
All because the soldiers stood tall, and because Eryndor, the storm reborn, had pulled them back from the brink of annihilation.
Kael clapped his shoulder one evening, grinning despite his bandaged arm. "You've set a bar none of us can reach, brother."
Eryndor only shook his head. "We reach it together. That's the only way forward."
Lyanna smiled faintly, resting a hand on her belly, her voice soft. "And for his sake… we'll keep building."
The storm had passed. But shadows still lingered beyond the horizon.