The air shimmered with tension. Where the first waves of soldiers had fallen like wheat before a scythe, the Sanctum now unleashed their true champions. Three figures emerged from the black mist of the battlefield, each radiating an aura that twisted the sunlight and made the ground tremble beneath them.
The first, a towering man in jagged, obsidian armor, carried a spear tipped with a blade that seemed to drink light itself. His eyes glowed like molten gold, and the soldiers around him instinctively knelt, as if mere proximity demanded obedience.
The second, a woman cloaked in shifting shadows, moved with a grace that defied physics. Daggers and whips of dark energy circled her, slicing the air with whispers of death. Her smile was cold, knowing, as though she savored the thought of breaking every hope in the hearts of the Obsidian Web.
The third, older and scarred, carried a tome that pulsed with eldritch energy. His voice alone, when he spoke, caused the air to vibrate. Every word was a command to reality itself, warping time and space around him, making attacks falter and misalign.
Rayon's grin widened at the sight of them. "Ah… finally," he said, stepping forward, his cloak swirling as if alive. "The real party begins."
Cairo didn't hesitate. Blade in hand, he melted into motion, a phantom of death. Each footstep anticipated the enemy's, each strike predestined. The shadow-cloaked woman lunged at him, whip and dagger aiming for his neck—and he was already gone, reappearing behind her, his blade cutting through the magical weapons as if they were nothing but air.
Severin's laughter rolled like thunder across the battlefield. He stepped toward the man with the spear, and the ground erupted beneath his feet. Waves of kinetic energy launched the golden-eyed general backward, but he recovered, stabbing through the distortion with a spear that could pierce dimensions.
Rayon, meanwhile, faced the elder warlock. His calm voice flowed like water through the battlefield, and the general faltered, his spells twisting against him. Rayon's eyes glowed faintly as he wove illusion into reality, forcing the general to fight shadows of his own making. Every chant, every curse, every deadly motion was anticipated, manipulated, and redirected.
The narrator's voice returned, calm but lethal:
"These three—Rayon, Cairo, Severin—were no longer simply warriors. They were an orchestra of destruction, perfectly attuned to one another. Rayon bent perception and will, making enemies stumble into death. Cairo struck with predestined precision, turning every move into an execution. Severin reshaped the battlefield itself, turning the environment into a weapon of inevitable death. And now, facing the Sanctum's finest, the synergy of their union became absolute. Alone, the generals were feared. Together, they were irrelevant."
The battle intensified. Rayon danced between the golden-eyed general and the warlock, manipulating both into attacking each other. Cairo moved with ghost-like speed, intercepting the shadow-cloaked woman, his blades a blur as she countered with deadly elegance. Severin carved paths of destruction around them, forcing the generals to fight on terrain that worked against them at every step.
Every attack, every counter, every motion was a demonstration of why the trio was unmatched. Blood stained the ground, arcane energy cracked the sky, and the screams of men and women trained their whole lives for war echoed across the estate—but the trio moved as one, untouchable, unflinching, unconquerable.
The first clash of this 3 vs 3 duel ended not with victory or defeat, but with an undeniable truth: the Sanctum's top generals had never faced three opponents who could simultaneously bend mind, body, and reality itself—and the Obsidian Web's deadliest trio was just beginning.