The sky over Esgard had turned into a noose.
The Crown of the Forgotten still glowed with dying embers, flickering shadows straining against the golden storm Mark wielded like a god's hammer.
The air inside Ian's domain crackled, thick with death magic—but it wasn't enough.
Not anymore.
They fought like men possessed.
Eli roared as he spun through three strikes, his red-marked blade howling as it clashed with Mark's golden halberd. Each collision sent out shockwaves that splintered towers and shattered wardstones.
Ian followed behind, a blur of soulflame and fury, his blade Judgement now cracked along the edge.
It didn't matter.
He struck again. Again. Again.
Soulbound swarmed from the mist—Havoc lunged with spectral claws while Fang hurled a spear of voidlight from above.
And Mark—
Mark stood untouched.
Wounded, yes. Blood ran down his ribs. His lip was split. The corner of one brow burned where Eli's fire had landed true.
