The ground shuddered, brittle ice splintering beneath the force of Velkran's tail strike.
Like a battering ram of bone and dark magic, the monstrous appendage slammed into Duchess Lireya, sending her hurtling across the battlefield. Her body crashed through two icy ridges before finally embedding into a snow-covered slope. A tremor rippled outward. For a moment, the battlefield fell eerily quiet.
Then—movement.
Lireya rose slowly from the crater. Blood streaked her temple. Her elegant silver-blue armor was cracked along the left side, and the sigil of her duchy was half-scorched from the impact. Yet her grip on her blade remained ironclad.
Across from her, Velkran growled, acidic steam hissing from his breath. "You bleed, Duchess. Good. Let us mark the end of your reign."
Lireya's boots crunched on the frost as she stepped forward. "If this is the end… it will drown you first."
Her aura began to flare anew, wrapping around her like a rising tide.
Tharyn vs. Treshna: The Thunder Wanes
On the eastern front, Knight Commander Tharyn panted through gritted teeth as Treshna the Stormmaw bore down on him. Cracks of lightning burst from her every step. Her massive warhammer—charged with unstable energy—howled as it swung through the air.
Tharyn slid under the first strike, narrowly avoiding a blow that fractured the frozen terrain behind him. Treshna howled in fury and lifted all four arms, electricity snaking through her crystalline armor.
"Too slow!" Tharyn shouted.
He surged forward with a grunt, activating Earthbind Boots, locking his stance. He braced his greatsword, Stormbind, low to the ground as it pulsed with molten-orange aura.
"Earthsplit Fang!"
He unleashed a rising, spiral slash—a perfect blend of might and aura precision. The ground fractured in its wake. The slash carved into Treshna's side, shattering her crystalline plating with a thunderous crack. Lightning exploded outward, uncontrolled and wild.
She staggered, roared—
Then Tharyn finished the strike with a second, overhead cleave that brought Stormbind crashing down like judgment itself. Treshna shattered beneath the blow, her form collapsing in a burst of sparks and rubble.
Alithra vs. Orrik: Divine Light Against Plague
On the western ridge, Mage-Captain Alithra floated inches above the ground, the winds of divine magic whipping around her.
Before her, Orrik the Plaguebrand trembled, his skeletal form cracking under the strain of corrupted magic. His staff leaked black ichor, and plague spirits circled him in a weakening spiral.
"Death is not your domain," Alithra said, her voice calm but firm. "You were not chosen to bear that power."
Orrik screeched and raised his staff, gathering a final wave of infectious mists.
Alithra closed her eyes. Her spirit pact shimmered behind her—a luminous being of water and healing—a High Rank Radiant Spirit.
Together, they whispered:
"Sanctum Purge."
A massive glyph bloomed beneath Orrik's feet, expanding outward like a blossoming lotus of silver and blue. A column of celestial water and light burst into the sky, swallowing him whole. His wails of hatred echoed through the storm before vanishing entirely.
When the light receded—Orrik was no more.
Velkran's Transformation
In the heart of the battlefield, Velkran raised his malformed skull to the heavens and screamed.
The sound warped the air. Waves of dark aura pulsed from his body, flowing like ink into the ground. Crimson runes across his hide glowed brighter, hotter, faster.
All around, the corpses of fallen corrupted beasts twitched.
Then—rose.
Tendrils of void magic slithered out, coiling through ribcages and hollow sockets, dragging the lifeless back into movement. Now reanimated, more savage and less bound by reason.
And Velkran himself—changed.
Dark energy surged along his spine. His frame contorted—growing, mutating. Bone wings erupted from his back like spears of ruin. A second row of jagged teeth split his face open. Runes ignited in hellish glow across his skin. He stood now, twice his former height—less beast, more god of annihilation.
"You think this is over?" Velkran's voice thundered. "I am ruin incarnate! Witness your world's unraveling!"
The ground cracked beneath him. The sky dimmed. Even the most seasoned knights—those who had never once wavered—trembled.
Some dropped their weapons. Others stood frozen.
Lireya's Answer
But Lireya did not falter.
She stood, firm as a glacier in the tide.
Behind her, the four children stared—eyes wide, rooted in place by terror. They could not speak. Could not move. Even Alaric, heart forged by loss and fire, found his resolve shaken.
Tharyn appeared at her side. "Lireya—what do we do?"
She spoke calmly. "Retreat. Get the wounded clear."
"But—"
"That's an order."
Tharyn hesitated only a moment before saluting and turning.
Lireya exhaled and stepped forward. Her sword pulsed, and her aura surged, spinning upward like a spiral of mist and power. She pressed her palm to her blade—ancient runes ignited down its length.
"Final Cascade: Ocean's Judgment."
From every shadow, every crystal of ice, every droplet in the air—water gathered.
It formed into a towering storm construct, an enormous avian-shaped torrent, wings of silver water stretched to the heavens. It radiated elegance and fury—a spirit of judgment and cleansing born of legacy.
Velkran roared. In response, he condensed pure darkness into a spiraling mass of magic between his horns—a final spell:
Abyssal Maw.
He launched it—a blast of obliteration aimed to erase all that stood before him.
Lireya raised her blade.
The stormbird descended—its wings slicing through the heavens, its body a thousand-ton wave of crashing power.
The spells met in midair.
Corruption and tide. Decay and light. They crashed with a sound like the world ending.
For a moment, all was white.
Then—darkness shattered.
The ocean pushed through.
Velkran's attack splintered like brittle stone.
And the ocean swallowed him whole.