When the light finally faded, the world was unrecognizable.
The landscape had been carved hollow. Blackened ridges of melted stone stretched outward from a circular pit half a kilometer wide, glowing faintly with veins of molten light. In the center of that pit stood two figures—battered, blood-soaked, and barely standing.
Cain's armor was split open across his chest. Every breath rattled like broken glass in his lungs. {Eidwyrm} rested point-down in the dirt, the blade warped from overuse, its once-perfect edge cracked with hairline fractures. His aura, once a torrent of molten red, now flickered weakly like dying embers.
Nebula wasn't faring much better. His halo had shattered completely. Fragments of his metallic constructs floated around him, orbiting at random. The once-impeccable coat he wore was torn to ribbons, exposing the pale lattice of veins beneath his skin, glowing faintly with silvery light.
They stared at each other through the shimmering haze of heat distortion.
