The once grand throne room of Endless was gone—torn apart by the sheer weight of colliding powers. What remained was a shattered foundation of stone and ash, walls ripped apart into jagged ruins, the sky above exposed as though even the heavens had abandoned the place. And within that ruin, two storms raged.

Kael Dragonyx. Alen the Dark Magi.

The former stood tall, his lightning-forged sword thrumming with draconic might, arcs of blue-white electricity dancing around him, splitting the air with violent snaps. The latter, Alen, shrouded in a void-black cloak, his staff raised high, weaving threads of abyssal magic that bent light, sound, even reality itself.

And before them stood the warriors of Eldoria, battered yet unbroken.

Kelvin, the heir of chaos, Abyssal Scythe gripped tight in his hand, his eyes glowing with a dark purple hue as strands of chaos energy rippled from his veins.

Ethan, twin daggers gleaming with mist-wrapped unpredictability, his movements slippery, elusive, impossible to pin down.

Eirana, the juggernaut of the Nullcarvers, battle hardened qi rippling like a living shadow around her, her Qi-infused physique holding her ground against Kael's lightning.

Lila, eyes burning with the sight of prophecy, her seer's aura wrapping her in visions of infinite possibilities.

Morris, the inheritor of the Elemental God, his scepter glowing with primal forces that flared between fire, ice, wind, and earth.

And Guinevere, the Phoenix, her flames raging brighter than ever, a living conflagration who stood with regal fury.

The clash was overwhelming.

Kael lunged forward, lightning sword cleaving downward in a storm of electrified fury. Eirana blocked with her bare fists, Qi surging through her frame as sparks exploded around her, the impact shaking the ground. Kelvin countered instantly, his Abyssal Scythe cutting through arcs of lightning, bending the chaotic energies toward Kael in a violent wave. Ethan blurred past them, his daggers striking like ghosts at the Draconic warrior's exposed side.

ROAR!!!

But Kael Dragonyx was no ordinary foe. His roar split the skies like thunder, his wings unfurled as if he bore the soul of dragons themselves. With a violent spin, he unleashed a cyclone of lightning that hurled Kelvin back, shredded Ethan's mist apart, and cracked Eirana's stance with sheer brute force.

"You fight well," Kael said coldly, lightning bleeding from his eyes. "But you are fireflies before a storm."

On the other side, Alen the Dark Magi's dominance was suffocating. Every word he spoke twisted reality, every flick of his staff unraveling elements, warping light, dragging his opponents into the abyss of his control. Lila's foresight let her evade annihilation again and again, but Alen's smile never faltered—he was reading her as she read him. Morris fought with relentless force, elemental surges crashing like tidal waves against the dark void. Guinevere's flames seared across the battlefield, forming wings of fire that lit the battlefield in radiant defiance.

And yet—Alen was relentless.

Dark chains lashed out from his staff, coiling around Morris's elements and snuffing them like candles. His abyssal magic turned Guinevere's flames to cinders, the fire that burned everything suddenly swallowed whole by darkness. With one hand, he thrust Lila back, his magic assaulting even her visions, forcing her to stumble as the threads of prophecy bent into knots.

"You struggle beautifully," Alen said, his voice like a whisper from the void, "but you will break. All light breaks, in the end."

Despite their dominance, despite being pressed to their limits, not one of Kaelen's allies yielded. Kelvin rose, his chest heaving, the scythe pulsing with chaotic will as if chaos itself raged against Kael's storm. "You'll have to bury me before I fall," he spat, charging again.

Eirana tightened her fists, her eyes blazing with determination as she shouldered the brunt of Kael's onslaught. "Nullcarvers… don't kneel."

Ethan, bloodied but grinning, vanished into his mist once more, voice echoing from nowhere and everywhere. "Try catching smoke, lizard."

Lila forced herself to her feet, her visions focusing, her breath steady. "No future exists where I yield to you."

Morris slammed his scepter into the ground, elements exploding outward with renewed force. "You'll choke on the world itself before you touch us!"

And Guinevere, her flames reigniting with vengeance, rose like the Phoenix she was, her voice trembling with fury and majesty. "Darkness cannot smother a sun."

Their words, their resolve, clashed with the suffocating might of Alen and Kael.

The battlefield cracked, sky roared, ruins trembled. And though the storm and the abyss pressed them down, the warriors of Eldoria refused to fall.

The throne room was gone, Endless's palace erased. But in that ruin, two battles waged with fury and despair.

Alen and Kael dominated. Yet still—the flames of resistance burned.

------

The outskirts of Endless' domain were drowned in silence for the first time since the slaughter began.

The ground, once trembling under the frenzy of Labyrinth Creatures and the stampede of orcs and goblins, now lay fractured and broken, soaked in blood and scorched with fire. Corpses—twisted, malformed bodies of Endless' spawn—littered the battlefield, blackened by flames, pierced through by blades, crushed underfoot by relentless strikes. The stench of death hung heavy, yet beneath it, there was a sense of grim victory.

Charlotte stood at the center, shield planted into the ground, her chest heaving as Divine light shimmered faintly around her. Her technique, the same that once claimed her father's life, had endured through the full brunt of the enemy's final charge. And unlike her father—she still stood. Her arms trembled, blood ran down her gauntlets, but her spirit remained unyielding.

Beside her, Drake wiped his blade clean of orc blood, his armor cracked and dented from the ferocious duel with the orc leader. The memory of Rodriguez's timely intervention lingered sharp in his mind, and when his eyes fell on the Devouring King, the faintest nod of respect passed between them.

Neana knelt in the dirt, Voidcloak still wrapped around her shoulders, the black fabric rippling faintly with residual Qi. Her clash with the Hobgoblin demigod had been brutal—every muscle in her body screamed with pain, but her eyes gleamed with the newfound strength she had torn from the jaws of death itself. For the first time in her life, she radiated not just as a Nullcarver, but as a Juggernaut.

A fellow Nullcarver named Robin stood at her side, steady and fierce, ready to catch her leader should she fall.

Christopher leaned against his crimson blade, crimson eyes locked on the wyvern's lifeless husk lying amidst the ruin. The truth that it was once human weighed heavily on him, and though he had put it out of its misery, the taste of the battle still lingered bitter on his tongue. His jaw clenched, his blade pulsed faintly, as though aware of the oath still binding him forward.

Maeralyn and Velyrian, blades raised and armor torn, stood together shoulder to shoulder, their elven grace marred with blood and sweat, yet their spirits were sharper than steel. Around them, the last of the elven warriors that survived caught their breath, their once-brilliant numbers now reduced—but not broken.

Rodriguez, the Devouring King, towered in silence. His Abyssal blade dripped with devoured essence, the echoes of countless foes still shrieking faintly within. Around him, soldiers gave him a wide berth—not out of distrust, but out of instinctive fear of the devouring presence he carried. And yet, in that moment, he was their ally, his eyes fixed on the skies where the storm of Kaelen and Endless clashed far above.

The air was heavy with the aftermath, but not for long.

Drake raised his blade, his voice thundering over the broken battlefield.

"Look to the skies!"

All eyes turned upward, where Kaelen and Endless's silhouettes clashed amidst storms of eternity and abyss. Each impact rumbled the heavens, arcs of power spilling down like lightning, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

"That…" Drake's voice was tight, his jaw hard as steel. "That is the battle for our very lives. Kaelen fights for every one of us—and he won't be left to do it alone."

Charlotte gripped her shield, sparks of Divine light reigniting as she stood tall. "Then we march."

Neana pulled herself to her feet, her Voidcloak coiling like a second skin. "To the throne room. The tide hasn't turned yet."

Rodriguez swung his Abyssal blade onto his shoulder, his voice low and guttural, carrying an odd weight of respect. "If Kaelen bleeds, the world falls. Well then, I'll carve a path."

Christopher tightened his grip on the Crimson Blade, eyes burning. "And I'll cut down whatever nightmare stands in our way."

Maeralyn raised her sword, Velyrian matching her with his spear, their voices rising in unison.

"For Eldoria. For Aetheris!"

The battered yet unbroken army—mages of the Grey family, Nullcarvers, elves, the Pacesetters Academy students who had survived the storm—lifted their weapons and roared. The sound rolled across the wasteland like thunder, shaking even the ruins of Endless's domain.

Drake lowered his blade, his eyes sharp and unyielding.

"To the throne room! Move swiftly!"

And like a tide reborn, the survivors surged forward. Their feet pounded over shattered stone and blood-soaked ground, their bodies weary but their hearts alight. They carved their way deeper into Endless's domain, the horizon of jagged ruins and abyssal corruption looming closer with every step.

Above them, the heavens split as Kaelen and Endless clashed, their storm casting shadows that swallowed all below. And within those shadows, the warriors of Eldoria raced against time, their path now clear—toward the ruined throne room, where their comrades still fought, and where fate itself awaited.