The midnight sky cracked with thunder as Valerian stood atop the obsidian ruins of the Tower of Oaths, his cloak whipping violently in the cursed wind. Beneath his boots, the cracked floor shimmered with residual soulfire—traces of the ritual interrupted in Chapter 75. The very air tasted of copper and ozone, thick with the weight of decisions that could reshape reality itself.
Across from him, Kael bled from a gash above his eye, panting, golden aura flickering like a dying candle. His armor bore fresh scars from their previous battles, each one a testament to the growing chasm between them. The Champion of Light had never looked so fragile.
"You're going to destroy this entire continent," Kael hissed, pressing a hand to his wounded side. "You saw the mirror. You know what lies beyond that gate."
Valerian didn't blink. The Death Crown in his palm pulsed with a heartbeat that wasn't his own. "I saw truth. I saw what I am."
