Its face mirrored Kael's own, but eerily perfect. Unblemished. Unfeeling. As if carved from divine mockery.
Then it vanished.
Not with the weight of some grand gesture, but as a whisper of light.
Kael's senses flared.
Too fast.
A thunderclap detonated behind him.
Kael spun just in time—the Varnok was performing his Volt Requiem Execution.
One. Two. Three—Kael twisted mid-air, parrying the fourth strike with a braced forearm, Essence exploding around them like solar wind.
"Tch—don't you dare!" Kael growled.
Fifth strike—he blocked with a crossguard of kinetic pressure.
Sixth—dodged by micro-shifting space with stormlight flashstep.
But the Varnok was unrelenting. Seven. Eight.
Each blow carried a fraction of Kael's power but delivered with terrifying precision. It wasn't just copying his attack—it was learning it, refining it.
Ninth.
Kael dropped low, planting both hands against the fractured ground. Flame Essence detonated beneath him—Infernal Maelstrom Rupture!
But the beast didn't flinch. The firestorm licked against its obsidian skin, and it surged forward through it—Tenth strike, the final slam.
Kael gritted his teeth, then caught the final blow with both palms. Lightning rippled outward, tearing through clouds and mountains. Essence quaked. The earth split.
But Kael stood firm.
"That was mine," he said, voice cold.
A kinetic burst shattered the air as Kael launched upward, twisting through storm and flame.
The duel began.
—
They clashed, as forces of nature.
Kael weaved martial strikes with flowing essence control: elbows laced with flame, jabs enhanced by kinetic fractures, kicks that launched compressed thunder bursts.
The Varnok countered blow-for-blow. Its form was identical to Kael's, but it moved with mechanical certainty, no emotion, no fatigue. When Kael sent a left hook of crackling storm through its ribcage, it twisted around the force and returned a mirrored spinning heel strike—catching Kael across the face.
He flew back. Regained his footing mid-air.
"You're not just mimicking…"
The beast tilted its head.
Kael surged forward again. They met mid-field, fists colliding with the force of meteorites. Shockwaves vaporized the storm clouds. Mountains trembled. Lava fissures opened in the ruined land below.
Kael feinted with a rising storm uppercut—then reversed with an elbow bursting in flame.
The beast absorbed the hit, then dropped low, sweeping Kael's legs with a gravity-infused spinkick.
Kael twisted, slammed a storm vortex into the ground, and caught himself mid-air. He clenched his fist.
"Godbreaker Arsenal…"
But he stopped.
No. He couldn't spam techniques. This wasn't about showing off power. It was about proving why that power mattered.
He descended.
Fist met fist again. This time slower. Measured.
A stormlight-enhanced palm strike.
Countered by a flame-weaving deflection.
A spinning tornado kick.
Parried by a kinetic shield block.
Their footwork blurred into the air. Circles carved into scorched ground. Eyes locked, Kael's burning with resolve, the beast's empty of all.
Then—
Kael ducked low, legs rippling with kinetic build-up—
Cyclone Ruin Driver.
He twisted into a brutal downward axe-kick wrapped in spiraling Storm Essence. The impact cratered the land in a straight-line fissure that launched the Varnok back.
He chased it.
But the Varnok planted a hand mid-fall and launched a mirrored version back up—its own copy of Cyclone Ruin Driver with unnerving fluidity.
Their legs collided mid-air, the pressure rupture causing a sonic boom.
Kael grit his teeth harder.
He reached inward—deeper than before.
Origin's edge.
He was on the threshold.
Essence bled from his skin in arcing ribbons. Storm. Lightning. Flame. Kinetic.
"You'll never surpass me by copying me," he said low, advancing step by slow step.
The beast mirrored his stance.
Kael vanished.
And when he reappeared—it was behind the Varnok. A whisper of motion. A blinding shift.
Godbreaker Arsenal: Volt Requiem Execution.
This time… the true one.
One. Two. Three.
Each impact was sharper. More refined. Not just fast—intentional.
The beast tried to counter, but Kael predicted every move.
Four. Five. Six.
The battlefield screamed. The very air peeled.
Seven. Eight.
Kael was no longer just using essence.
He was essence.
Nine.
He shifted behind the Varnok.
Ten.
The final strike thundered into its core—and with it, a detonation.
The earth warped.
A canyon opened from the force. Lightning rained sideways.
Kael landed in a crouch. Panting. Eyes burning.
The beast stumbled.
Its obsidian skin fractured. Sparks leaking.
Kael rose.
"Your mistake," he said, breathing heavy, "was thinking power alone was enough."
The Varnok's form twitched—then stabilized.
But it was no longer a mirror.
Its face cracked. Shifted.
Now it looked afraid.
Kael stepped forward, blood dripping from his knuckles.
"Come on."
"Let's finish it."