The Divine General laughed — low and vicious.
"You mad bastard," he said.
He gripped the sword, and swung—
BOOOOOOM.
Smoke curled from the broken earth, thick and heavy, cloaking everything in silence.
Kael stumbled forward, coughing — the venom peeling away in ragged strands.
His chest heaved as the stench of scorched stone and blood filled his lungs.
Then he saw it.
A crater. Deep. Massive.
Carved from one swing.
His eyes turned sharply to Yue, still standing near the edge of the ruin.
He didn't speak, just stared — demanding an answer.
She flinched a little under the weight of his gaze.
"What?" she said. "He was Rank 3… and that was his sword style."
Kael said nothing.
Just nodded slowly.
He felt it again — the lack inside him.
That hunger.
He needed his own style now.
His own edge.
The smoke began to clear.
And there, at the center of the crater, lay the Duke — split cleanly in half, body twitching faintly.
His lips moved… whispering something.
