The phantom of fire towered behind Valerius, its shape flickering like a beast carved from the heart of the sun. Its roar shook the arena, and the disciples watching dropped to their knees, covering their faces. The air itself seemed to kneel before the Flame Sect's chosen.
Valerius's armor burned brighter, his sword now nothing more than a strip of molten brilliance. His body no longer looked human—it was a vessel of fire.
"This is my destiny," he said, his voice echoing like a storm. "You are not my equal, Ragnar. You never were."
The phantom moved as he moved. When Valerius raised his blade, the beast raised its claws. The world itself bent under the weight of his Law.
Ragnar stood across from him, shadow bleeding from his wounds, his claws trembling with blackfire. He could barely breathe. Every bone in his body screamed, his chest felt like it was collapsing, and the whispers in his skull only grew louder.
"Give in. End this. We can consume him… if you abandon yourself."
Ragnar's hand shook. The abyss within him pressed harder, chains snapping one by one. If he surrendered, he knew he would win. But it wouldn't be him who stood at the end. It would be the monster.
He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. He remembered the cold nights with nothing but hunger. He remembered Kael's steady voice, Dax's laughter, Lyra's fire-like teasing, Selene's quiet smile.
He remembered why he had fought this far.
When he opened his eyes again, his shadow blazed—not wild, but focused. Blackfire surged upward, wrapping his body like armor. Not consuming him, not enslaving him. Obeying him.
Valerius laughed, cruel and sharp. "You think that trick will matter against fate?"
He vanished.
A line of fire cut the air, faster than thought. Ragnar twisted aside, his claws scraping against the molten blade. The impact shattered the stone under his feet, but he held firm.
The phantom's claw descended. Ragnar raised both arms, shadows flaring upward to block it. The world shook. His knees bent, cracks spiderwebbed beneath him, but the claw stopped.
For the first time, Valerius's eyes widened.
"You—!"
Ragnar's shadow armor flared, cracks of crimson light running through the abyss like veins. He pushed back, step by step, forcing the phantom's claw upward.
The crowd erupted in shouts.
"He's holding it!"
"Impossible—he's resisting a calamity!"
Ragnar's voice was low, steady, like steel dragged across stone. "I don't need fate. I don't need destiny. I'll carve my own path."
He moved.
Blackfire surged like a wave, his claws slashing through the phantom's arm. Shadows howled, devouring fire. The beast roared as its limb dissolved into smoke.
Valerius's face twisted in rage. His flames flared, brighter, hotter, consuming the lost arm and regenerating it instantly.
"Then burn with me!" he shouted.
The phantom raised both arms. A sun ignited between its claws, a sphere of fire so bright it blinded the crowd. The air became poison, heat so intense that even the protective barrier groaned.
Ragnar's shadow writhed in agony, shrinking away from the light. His body felt like it was tearing apart.
The whispers screamed now, unchained and mad.
"Let me out. Or you will die."
Ragnar's vision blurred. His legs buckled. He knew the truth. Alone, he couldn't stop this. If that sun descended, the arena would be ash—and he would vanish with it.
And then, in the corner of his vision, he saw her.
Selene.
She wasn't shouting. She wasn't weeping. She was simply looking at him, her silver eyes steady, unwavering, filled with quiet faith.
Something broke inside Ragnar—not in despair, but in defiance.
"No," he whispered. "I won't die here. Not yet."
His shadow convulsed. Chains shattered. The monster inside howled in triumph.
But this time, Ragnar didn't surrender it. He fused with it.
His body twisted—blackfire wings burst from his back, his claws lengthened into abyssal blades, and his eyes glowed red within pools of shadow. His aura crashed over the arena like a tidal wave, suffocating, endless, consuming even the light.
The disciples froze in terror. Elders leaned forward, whispers racing through the sky.
"This… this isn't just a Law…"
"No. This is something beyond."
Valerius's sun flared, a miniature star ready to fall. The phantom roared.
Ragnar spread his wings of shadow, blackfire bleeding into the air.
The world seemed to pause.
Two calamities stood ready to erase each other.
The flame of destiny.
The abyss of defiance.
And then—
Both moved.
The sun fell.
The abyss rose.
Light and darkness consumed the arena, devouring sound, stone, even the screams of the disciples. The clash swallowed everything.
When the smoke cleared—
The arena was gone.
Only a crater remained, molten stone dripping like lava.
And in the center, two figures stood—Ragnar, his wings cracked and burning away, blood pouring from his mouth… and Valerius, his armor shattered, his body trembling, but his eyes still burning with rage.
Neither had fallen.
The duel wasn't over.
But then, from above, a voice rang out. Deep. Cold. Heavy with power.
"Enough."
The air froze. The crowd went silent.
An elder descended—his aura vast enough to suffocate even Ragnar's abyss. His gaze swept the battlefield, and in that moment, Ragnar felt something he had never felt before.
Not hunger. Not rage.
But fear.
The elder's eyes locked on him.
"You," he said softly, his voice carrying like thunder. "What… are you?"