The battlefield was in chaos, but for a brief moment, everything seemed still. The air crackled with power, the scent of blood and fire thick in the air. Isaroth, General of Hell, pulled himself from the broken stone wall where he had been thrown, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the impact. His crimson eyes flickered with recognition as they locked onto the new arrival.


    Zyrran.


    For the first time that night, Isaroth''s smirk faded. His eyes narrowed as he took in the dark-cloaked figure before him, the shadows clinging unnaturally to his form, as if the night itself bent to his will.


    "So," Isaroth exhaled, tilting his head. "You''ve finally come, Shadow Sovereign."


    Zyrran''s expression remained unreadable, but his voice was low, cold, and absolute.


    "I am not letting you escape this time."


    Kael, still injured from his previous battle, forced himself up. His breathing was heavy, but his golden eyes burned with defiance. He staggered for only a second before stepping beside Zyrran, standing tall despite his wounds.


    Isaroth''s gaze flicked between the two warriors now before him—Kael Solvain, still battle-worn yet unyielding, and Zyrran Nyktris, the man who had hunted him for years.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Behind them, Elian watched the scene unfold. He could feel it in the air—the weight of power gathering, pressing down like a coming storm. These two… they were on a different level. He clenched his fists, stepping back as the realization struck him.


    For the first time, he truly understood the gap between them.


    His lips curled into a smirk of his own as he looked at Isaroth. "Now you''re fucked."


    Isaroth exhaled through his nose, but before he could respond, Kael let out a sharp breath, shaking his head.


    "Took you long enough," he muttered toward Zyrran, rolling his shoulders in preparation.


    Zyrran shot him a sidelong glance, his lips barely twitching upward. "Good thing I arrived just in time. You seem in great shape."


    Kael snorted. "Fuck you."


    Zyrran smirked. The brief exchange between them held years of familiarity, battles fought, wars waged. And now, one more fight awaited them.


    Far below the battlefield, amidst the raging chaos, Elder Sareth was a force of nature. His golden spear blurred through the air, cutting down demons with every precise strike. The creatures of Hell surged at him in waves, but they fell just as quickly, torn apart by the sheer mastery of his Astra. Soldiers rallied behind him, emboldened by his presence, striking back with renewed strength. And then, amidst the battle, Sareth felt it—a familiar darkness, a power unlike any other. He paused, his eyes lifting toward the distant heights of Eldris. A knowing smile crossed his face. Zyrran had arrived.


    Isaroth watched them without amusement. His fingers twitched, and the ground beneath him began to tremble. The very air shifted, growing thick with dark Astra as his expression twisted into something savage, something primal.


    Then, his head tilted back, and he let out a roar that shook the heavens.


    "COME ON, GUARDIANS! SHOW ME YOUR POWER!"


    A storm of raw Astra exploded from his body, darkness and fire coiling around him as his power surged. The sky above them split, crackling with violent energy, as if Hell itself had turned its gaze upon the battlefield.


    Kael and Zyrran stepped forward in unison, power radiating from them like a force of nature.


    Elian watched, his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything like this. The air itself seemed to vibrate as the three warriors faced each other, unmoving, unbreaking.


    And then, as if on cue—


    They attacked.