The air between them buzzed with pressure. Mana and divine power rippled like crashing tides, the atmosphere warping and screaming as the battlefield trembled beneath their feet.
Across from Kyle, Goddess Charrin floated above the cracked earth, her white robes twisting like living silk, halo spinning behind her head, casting golden rays through the dust-choked sky.
Her form unfolded and then showed her real power.
Her six wings unfurled—each feather laced with divine runes, glimmering like spears of light. She looked every part the god she claimed to be: wrathful, radiant, and regal.
Kyle stood on the shattered ground below her, sword loose in his hand, coat flaring in the wind, eyes half-lidded, calm like a storm just before it broke.
His aura pulsed—not radiant, but thick, coiling around him like chains being drawn from the abyss.
Blue lightning arced from his fingertips down to the tip of his blade, humming with restrained power.
