Chapter 268: The Gauntlet of Chains
The air trembled.
As the chains shattered and fell away, the force of Zerathis's roar shook dust from the ceiling. The daemon stood free, towering over Kael, his body a mountain of scarred muscle and smoldering veins of light. The runes that had once bound him burned into ash, and with their death came the release of a suffocating aura. Power — raw, unbridled, ancient.
Kael didn't flinch. He set his feet, blade angled low, his chaos fire coiling along the magisteel like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
For a heartbeat, the chamber was silent. Then both moved.
The First Clash
Zerathis swung with a fist that could shatter stone, the air splitting with the blow. Kael ducked, his blade flashing upward in a perfect arc. Sparks exploded as steel met daemon flesh, a spray of golden blood hissing against the stone. Zerathis grinned through the pain, his teeth gleaming.
"Good. You cut deeper than most."
Kael answered with action, pivoting, bringing his sword down in a two-handed strike that cracked the floor. Zerathis stepped into the swing, catching the blade on his forearm, and shoved Kael back with a surge of strength that sent him sliding.
Then the daemon spoke a word — guttural, older than kingdoms. The ground beneath Kael's feet buckled, a circle of jagged flame rising from the stone. Ancient combat magic, force given shape.
Kael leapt clear, rolling into the strike zone, and lashed out with chaos fire. The purple flame roared like a tidal wave, colliding with Zerathis's aura. For a moment, power met power, pressing against each other in a blinding flash.
Evenly Matched
The two circled, trading blows that shook the dungeon. Kael's swordsmanship was flawless, his every strike honed from years of discipline. His blade wove arcs of controlled violence — feints, ripostes, cutting lines aimed with surgical precision.
Zerathis countered with brutal efficiency, his ancient combat magic augmenting every motion. When his fists missed, shockwaves cratered the stone. When his voice uttered another old tongue incantation, spikes of obsidian burst from the ground or walls.
Steel screamed against claw. Chaos fire clashed with runes of flame. The chamber itself seemed to reel from their struggle.
In the shadows, Rogan's jaw was clenched tight, his hand gripping the haft of his axe.
"Gods preserve us… I've never seen Kael pushed like this."
Varik nodded slowly, awe shadowing his scarred face.
"It's like watching a storm fight itself. Both unrelenting. Both… inevitable."
Lyria said nothing. Her eyes were locked on Kael, her breath caught in her chest. Every motion of his blade, every moment his body twisted away from death — she memorized it, terrified and proud in equal measure.
The Shift
For a time, Kael held his ground. But slowly, Zerathis began to press harder, his raw daemon might overpowering even Kael's precise form. A single punch caught Kael's side, sending him crashing into the wall hard enough to leave cracks in the stone. His sword clattered but stayed in hand. Blood trickled from his lip.
Zerathis advanced, each step a tremor.
"You are skilled, boy. Refined. But skill bends when raw power breaks it."
Kael staggered to his feet, his body screaming in pain. He rolled his shoulders once, forcing the ache down, and lifted his sword again. His voice came low, steady:
"You mistake me, Zerathis. I wasn't forged to bend."
He surged forward, faster than before. His chaos flame ignited fully, wreathing him in violet fire. His blade became an arc of night and lightning, striking with renewed fury. Zerathis blocked the first, the second — but the third cut deep into his shoulder. The daemon snarled, and for the first time, his grin faltered.
From the sidelines, Azhara's eyes widened.
"His strength… it's growing."
Lyria's breath trembled as she whispered, "No. Not growing. He's finally letting go."
The Awakening
Kael's swordplay transformed. No longer restrained, no longer tempered by fear of collateral — every strike was an expression of freedom. He weaved chaos fire into his swings, exploding arcs that scorched the daemon's flesh and left the stone glowing. His footwork blurred, his blade sang, and with each movement, Kael's strength pressed Zerathis further back.
Zerathis roared, summoning a wall of flame with an ancient word. Kael split it with a single strike, his chaos-infused blade cutting through fire as though it were cloth. He drove forward, shoulder to shoulder with the daemon, their clash sending shockwaves that cracked chains still hanging from the ceiling.
Zerathis laughed again — but this time, the sound carried no mockery, only exhilaration.
"Yes! At last! You fight not as a leader, not as a protector — but as yourself! Show me more, Kael!"
The Brink
The battle escalated until neither fought with half-measures. Zerathis unleashed ancient sigils that warped gravity, pulling Kael down like a crushing mountain. Kael answered by pouring chaos fire into the earth itself, detonating the floor and freeing himself in a rain of molten stone.
Their strikes blurred. Sword against claw, fire against void, two beings of immense power colliding again and again until the walls shook and dust fell in choking clouds.
From the shadows, Rogan muttered, voice hoarse with disbelief.
"He's… he's keeping pace with a high daemon."
Varik only nodded. "And not just keeping pace. He's enjoying it."
And it was true. In the fury of battle, in the roar of chaos fire and the ringing clash of steel, Kael felt something he hadn't in years. His responsibilities, his worries, his endless choices all fell away. Here, there was only him, his blade, and the storm before him.
He felt free.
The Decision to Get Serious
Both combatants leapt back at once, standing across from each other, their bodies battered and bloodied but their eyes burning with fire.
Zerathis rolled his shoulders, laughter echoing from deep in his chest.
"No more games. No more chains. Now, Kael — let us fight in earnest."
Kael grinned, blood staining his teeth, chaos flame licking higher around his blade.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
And with that, they charged — not as rivals testing each other, but as warriors ready to unleash the full depths of their power.
The true battle had only begun.