Thunder cracked again. This time closer. But still no rain. They stood in that silence.
And for the first time since the fight began, they both knew one truth. The next clash might end something.
They just didn't know what.
--------
By the time the clouds gave way to rain, the clearing was gone.
Nothing remained but craters and ruin.
Charred earth steamed beneath the falling water, smoke curling from wounds in the land that would never heal right. Trees were uprooted. Rocks split.
Blood painted the edges of fractured stone, mingled with the wet black of void-burn and the bright silver of soul flame.
And in the center of it all—they danced.
No longer precise. No longer patient.
Now it was desperation, fury made elegant, power refined into violence. Each strike could kill. Each miss was deliberate misdirection.
They were past the point of holding back.
They were trying to break each other.
