The cities burned, the sky darkened with the smoke of human panic—but Everos was already in motion.
Lightning coiled around him, crackling like a living storm. His white armor glimmered against the smoke, every movement precise, controlled, and devastating.
With a single step, the first wave of monsters—hellhounds, wyverns, corrupted ogres—were obliterated. Lightning tore through them, not just burning or slicing, but erasing their essence. Wherever his sword touched, nothing remained. The portal feeding them didn't last long. He slashed toward it, lightning dispersing in arcs, and the breach collapsed inward, sealed by the pure force of Everos's will.
Without hesitation, he moved across the city with the speed of thought. Cars and debris melted away under his presence, yet not a human was harmed. Workers, children, and Awakeners scattered—but the chaos only slowed Everos, never stopped him. Every building, street, and alley became his battlefield.
He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, landing amidst the monsters and moving like a flash of divine lightning. His sword swung in impossible arcs, each strike a cascade of white stormlight, eradicating foes before their claws or fangs could reach a single innocent. Entire blocks went dark as lightning tore the air, but Everos's aura shielded civilians, a protective dome of divine judgment.
As he moved city to city, the scale of his might became undeniable. From Tokyo to Cairo, from New York to São Paulo, portals opened, but none survived more than a heartbeat. Lightning struck like falling stars, the ground cracked, and monsters screamed as their existence was wiped clean. With each portal destroyed, Everos's speed never faltered. Cities without life were skipped, the earth untouched where it would not matter—but anywhere humans resided, he stood as an unmovable sentinel, the ultimate knight of his Sovereign.
The sheer force of his strikes warped reality itself. Dragons evaporated mid-flight. Serpents were split from head to tail in a single strike. Abominations born of otherworldly magic were ripped from existence. Lightning danced across skyscrapers, across oceans, across landscapes in instantaneous strikes, and Everos remained untouched, untouchable, unstoppable.
He paused for a brief moment in a city ravaged by the largest portal yet. The air was heavy with the scent of ozone and scorched earth. His senses tingled. Something familiar—a presence he had not felt since the era of The One—stirred in the deepest currents of his being.
Everos's grip tightened on his sword. His eyes, sharp and crimson beneath the stormlight, scanned the remnants of the portal.
A white aura emerged, enormous and undulating, forming into a shape both magnificent and terrifying. Scales of purest white reflected the dimmed sunlight like polished diamond—impenetrable, radiant, and sentient.
From the last portal, a colossal figure rose: Thanatos, the great white snake. Its form coiled and uncoiled with a predatory elegance. Its scales shimmered impossibly, seeming to bend light itself, and its eyes glowed with intelligence and a terrifying awareness. Unlike mindless monsters, Thanatos spoke. Its voice echoed like thunder across both mind and soul.
"It's been a while, Everos," it said, the sound both ancient and filled with malice. "It seems we are fated to fight once again."
Everos didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed, a low growl vibrating through the stormlight around him.
"Thanatos… how are you here?" he demanded, his sword already humming with energy.
The great serpent hissed, moving with unnerving grace. "The same Absolutes… the ones the Nameless One protected Earth from all those years ago. They've changed the laws of my realm. No matter what I do… I cannot survive there. So it's better to come here… and fight."
Everos's stormlight flared, the lightning in his armor dancing as he raised his sword high. The energy formed a column of pure white stormfire, a beacon of judgment.
"I will honor your death," he said, his voice calm but deadly. The lightning around him crackled louder, a living storm preparing to strike.
Thanatos's massive coils tensed, the ground beneath it quaking from sheer weight and authority. Its fangs glinted, its eyes burned with centuries of rage and experience.
Two ancient warriors—one lightning, one eternal white scales—stood poised, the battlefield of the ages about to unfold.
The air itself shivered with anticipation.
Everos's stormblade glowed. Thanatos hissed, a sound like the cracking of mountains.
And then, the clash began.