The air trembled. The forest below quivered as if it too sensed the tension above. The Apostles hovered, one radiating blinding light, the other exuding the crushing weight of judgment, and in the center stood Kaelen, crimson aura flaring violently around him. His blood-heart throbbed in his chest, each pulse echoing across the battlefield like a drum of war.
Kaelen's voice cut through the wind, low, cold, and unstoppable.
"Do you think your light, your law, your mandates… mean anything here?"
The Apostle of Light lifted her hand, a blade of condensed radiance forming effortlessly in the air. Wings spread wide, a halo of pure judgment orbiting her.
"You… defy the divine order, Demon. You will pay."
Kaelen's crimson blood-mana twisted around him, forming jagged spears and chains of dark-red light.
"I don't pay. I don't answer. I **Extinguish**."
Without warning, he **launched** himself. Not forward. Not sideways. **Downward**—slicing through the air with terrifying speed. The Apostles reacted instantly. Light and judgment clashed with him midair, a shockwave ripping the clouds into shreds.
The Apostle of Judgment moved next, six wings flaring, a massive fist aimed at Kaelen. His crimson aura thickened, dense as armor, and with a single step in midair, he slammed his palm into the fist, sending it flying backward. The force tore through the clouds, lightning igniting along the cracks, and the forest below shuddered violently.
The Apostle of Light struck from above, a blade of concentrated brilliance aimed straight for Kaelen's head. His blood-blade swung to meet it, sparks, lightning, and blood-mana erupting in a storm that tore the air apart. **And yet Kaelen barely slowed.**
Above, Ivan watched, golden light flickering across his eyes.
"Interesting… the king still fights like he holds the world in his hands," he murmured.
Kaelen's eyes flicked down, seeing nothing but shadow and rage.
"Watch carefully," he said, a small, terrifying smile twisting his lips.
The Apostles collided with him again. Fist against fist, blade against blood-blade, wings tearing the wind into shredded currents. Kaelen's movements weren't just fast—they were **relentless**, precise, inhumanly focused. Each strike sent shockwaves rippling in every direction, each clash of divine force and blood-magic tearing the sky asunder.
Kaelen's aura flared further. His **blood-heart glowed fiercely**, projecting waves of power outward that distorted the very air. Lightning flickered. Clouds split. The Apostles' strikes began to falter against the pressure of his mana.
His voice echoed over the chaos:
"**I warned you. Step into my dominion, and you answer to me. Not gods. Not mandates. Me.**"
The Apostles hovered, wings trembling slightly, recognizing the **limitless storm** before them. Kaelen's crimson mana was no longer defensive—it **was creation and destruction combined**, radiating a king's absolute will.
The battle had escalated beyond judgment and light. This was no longer a fight. This was **Kaelen asserting dominion over gods and mortals alike**.
Below, the forest and airships trembled. Everyone knew in their bones: **nothing alive could withstand what was coming next.**
The sky was shredded. Clouds hung in tatters like burnt paper, lightning crackling from the Apostle of Judgment, radiant beams streaming from the Apostle of Light. They moved in perfect unison, constructing weapons and shields from their respective essences—spears, hammers, blades, floating fortresses of divine energy—an arsenal capable of leveling mountains.
Kaelen's crimson aura roared around him. Blood twisted and condensed into its own constructs: spikes jutted from the air, whips cracked at the clouds, a swirling crown of jagged blood-blades hovered like a storm of death. His blood-mana heart pulsed at the center of his chest, summoning the storm of his soul itself.
The Apostle of Judgment raised his hand. Lightning snakes uncoiled, forming giant hammers and chains charged with the raw energy of a thunder god.
The Apostle of Light didn't hesitate. From her halo, beams of radiant energy solidified into colossal swords and lances, spinning like celestial windmills, their edges glowing like molten stars.
Kaelen laughed, low and feral, echoing through the void.
"Lightning, light… all the toys you want. Come. Show me your power."
With a roar, he slammed his palms together. Blood-mana exploded outward in a storm that shredded the divine constructs around him. But he didn't merely destroy them—they **reformed into blood weapons**, growing sharper, faster, deadlier. A **blood-dragon** coiled around him, fangs dripping crimson, wings tearing at the wind. Spears of blood flew outward, slicing through lightning chains and radiant lances midair, shattering them in showers of sparks and droplets of mana.
The Apostles responded instantly. Lightning struck Kaelen, embedding itself into his blood constructs, but they **absorbed and redirected** it, forming new spikes that shot toward the Apostles like jagged bolts of red lightning.
The Apostle of Light slashed with a massive blade of concentrated brilliance, only for Kaelen to split the attack with a spinning blood-whip, snapping with the force of a cannon. Sparks erupted, mana screamed, and the air quaked with the collision of power.
Kaelen grinned, crimson eyes blazing. He leaped upward, leaving trails of blood-mana like comet tails. His constructs multiplied, forming a storm around him—spikes, chains, walls, blades—each moving with his intent. They **attacked, defended, and reshaped the battlefield** in real time.
The Apostles didn't relent. The Apostle of Judgment slammed a massive hammer into the storm, producing a **giant lightning explosion** that sent shards of mana raining down. The Apostle of Light countered, sending spirals of radiant swords spinning upward, piercing through blood spikes like a divine storm of fire.
Kaelen laughed again, a wide, feral grin spreading across his face.
"Is that all? I expected more… from gods."
He raised a hand. Blood condensed faster than thought, forming a **giant blood-fist the size of a mountain**. It swung at the Apostles, each movement tearing the air apart. Lightning coiled around it, light streaked against it—and **still it did not break**, only grew sharper, faster, deadlier.
The Apostles' constructs clashed with it head-on. Thunder exploded, divine light flared, and the sky split along their collision. Trees hundreds of miles below were uprooted by shockwaves; the seas churned as if reacting to the fury above.
Kaelen roared, voice shaking the heavens:
"**I will not bend. I will not yield. When you dared to step into my world, this is what you face!**"
Lightning surged, radiant blades spun, blood constructs multiplied—the battle became **a storm of gods and kings**, reshaping reality with every clash. The Apostles had met a force **beyond law, beyond god**, and Kaelen… had only begun.
Ivan watched from above, a twisted smile curling across his face.
"**This… this is Kaelen.**" His voice echoed, low, reverent, almost hungry. "Relentless. Merciless. Willing to use *whatever* and *whenever* he wants. A king who bleeds and keeps moving forward."
Below, Kaelen roared again. His arm had been severed moments ago, the wound still raw and smoking—but it didn't matter. Crimson mana surged outward, condensing faster than thought. The severed limb **melted into blood-mana**, reshaping instantly into a jagged, crimson arm. His fist clenched, the new arm humming with lethal power.
The Apostles didn't pause. They healed rapidly, divine mana knitting cuts and burns as if the battlefield were nothing more than a rehearsal. Lightning reformed the Apostle of Judgment's wounds; radiant constructs repaired the Apostle of Light's shredded wings.
Kaelen didn't care. **Wounds were inconsequential. Pain irrelevant.** Every strike that should have crippled him only fueled his storm of blood magic. Each swing, punch, and thrust tore into the Apostles' defenses, forcing them to adapt and heal constantly.
Ivan's smile widened. The gold in his eyes burned brighter.
"Yes… exactly like I remember. He doesn't care if he dies. He doesn't care if the world shatters. And he doesn't stop. **Ever.**"
Kaelen's blood constructs began moving independently, forming **whips, spikes, and blades that struck without direction**, almost as if the mana itself had a mind, guided by his rage. The Apostles responded in kind: light and lightning constructs merging, spinning, and coalescing into weapons of war, each blow creating explosions of power that shredded reality.
Yet for every wound Kaelen took, for every strike the Apostles landed, he **regenerated anew**, drawing blood from the air, the earth, even the shadows of the battlefield. Each time, he returned **stronger, faster, more feral**.
Ivan laughed, a low, hollow sound, watching the blood-streaked king move like a force of nature.
"**This… is why he's Kaelen. The Blood King of Madness. This is why the world fears him.**"
Above, the sky had turned crimson and gold. Blood-mana storms clashed with lightning and radiant light. Clouds collapsed and reformed. **Every living thing below trembled**, yet Kaelen's gaze remained fixed on the Apostles—**relentless, unstoppable, insane**—and now, even Ivan could not look away.