The air twisted around him, heat and shadow folding into each other, until even the battlefield itself seemed to recoil. Kaen's body burned like a torch of voidflame, veins glowing a sickly violet, jagged wings of fractured shadow fanning wide.
His scream shook the world.
The cursed terrain shattered beneath his feet as he lunged not with technique, not with finesse, but with the sheer inevitability of a falling star.
Sythen's tendrils snapped forward to impale him.
Kaen's hand ripped through them like wet paper. Black ichor splattered the air.
"What—!?" Sythen's eyes widened.
Kaen was already there. His fist smashed into her face with such force the impact rang like a gong. The Cursed Lord staggered, her cheekbone fracturing, voidlight searing her flesh.
She snarled, recovering midair, shadows writhing to coil around him.
But Kaen didn't even flinch. His wings flared, shredding her binds in an eruption of shade-fire.
