The frozen plains trembled again, the ice cracking like glass beneath divine pressure. Frost storms swirled around the two— Azmaik and Tom, as if the world itself feared to look at what was unfolding it.
Azmaik stood tall, his black robe flapping in the polar wind, eyes glowing like shards of pure diamond. His voice was calm, like a teacher explaining the laws of creation to a stubborn student.
"Let me educate you, Hunter," he said, raising his arm. "Do you know what separates gods from men? It's not strength, it's divinity."
He exhaled, and the temperature plummeted. The frost beneath their feet came alive, shaping itself into a network of glowing veins, spreading across the battlefield like neural branches. They pulsed faintly, translucent, humming with intelligence.
"These," Azmaik said, smiling faintly, "are my Neural Cryostructures. Each one mimics the nervous system of every lifeform itself. When they touch flesh.…"
He flicked his fingers. The branches shot forward, wrapping around Tom's arm like icy snakes.
"….I can read their thoughts or worse, rewrite them."
Tom screamed as the cold crawled through his veins, freezing everything it touched. Images flashed in Azmaik's mind.
Arlong's sacrifice, Grace's tears, Elior's training, Apollo's Sect, That Old Cowboy at the Black Ocean, everything Tom had lived through till now. Azmaik's eyes widened.
"So much grief," he whispered. "So much loss. You might faced a lot of pain, lil bro."
Tom gritted his teeth, trying to break free. "Get.… out of my head!"
Azmaik tilted his head, amused. "Why? It's beautiful in here. Allow me to build a swimming pool for us there."
The ice crawled further up Tom's body, his muscles locking, his heartbeat slowing.
"You see," Azmaik continued, tone disturbingly patient, "I don't simply control ice. I conduct memory. Every nerve, every signal in the brain is electricity and I, Hunter, am the silence between those sparks."
Tom dropped to one knee, his breath coming in short, slight bursts. He could feel the frost digging into his spine, hijacking his movements.
"Is this all?" Azmaik taunted. "Your rage, your strength, all reduced to static?"
Tom's fingers twitched. His black aura flickered. Then, his Face, Hawking's Trojan Chair began to glow faintly beside him.
Azmaik's smile faded. "So, you have one too?"
Tom lifted his head, a faint smirk breaking through the pain. "A little something I picked up from hell."
He clenched his fist and suddenly, the frost around him began to move backward. The ice that was freezing him started to melt, the neural threads turning into vapor.
Azmaik's eyes widened. "You're absorbing my structure?"
Tom rose slowly, steam rising from his skin. His aura had changed. A translucent light wrapped around him, like glass reflecting invisible heat.
"This is my Transparent Realm," Tom said, voice rough but steady. "It lets me absorb energy, transform it into my own form of force."
Azmaik frowned, then smiled, impressed. "Interesting. You've learned fast. A worthy opponent!"
He extended both hands. Above him, the aurora in the sky began to twist violently, its light condensing into dozens of glowing, magnetic filaments that crackled through the air.
"Then allow me to evolve the cold further," Azmaik said softly. "Behold, Polar Neural Circuitry."
The aurora threads shot downward, fusing with the frozen ground, spreading into radiant ice webs. They glowed with electromagnetic light, humming like a divine machine. Each strand pulsed with power, binding everything they touched.
"These threads," Azmaik explained as they snaked toward Tom, "are the nerves of the heavens. They slice like blades, conduct energy and bind all that resists. Even the wind obeys."
Tom dodged the first few but the air was magnetic. Every thread followed him like a living serpent all around. One grazed his arm, slicing through armor and drawing blood. Another wrapped around his waist, pulling him down.
Azmaik lifted his hand, controlling them like puppet strings. "You see, Hunter. This is what happens when mortals challenge concepts."
Tom's transparent aura flickered again but instead of deflecting the threads, he absorbed their magnetic energy. The light around him brightened, his movements sharpening.
Azmaik narrowed his eyes. "You're learning mid-battle.…"
Tom grinned. "That's kind of my thing."
He rotated, literally spinning his body with gravitational torque, creating a spiraling field of force that shredded the magnetic threads near him. The auroras twisted in response, bending inward, feeding his energy instead of Azmaik's.
Now, when he punched, his blows carried both his own strength and the aurora's charge.
Azmaik blocked the first strike but the next sent him flying back, cracking the ice beneath his feet.
The Polar Highness bled, a drop of white blood splashing against the snow.
Tom stood tall, eyes glowing with fire and cold light both. "You're not fighting a mortal anymore," he said. "You're fighting your own evolution."
Azmaik straightened his robe, cold fury flickering behind his composure.
"Evolve faster, Hunter because I won't wait."
The ground was breaking apart beneath their feet as Tom and Azmaik clashed again.
Every strike sent waves of frost and heat colliding through the air, forming clouds of shimmering vapor. The auroras above bent and flickered, responding to the pressure of their battle.
Azmaik suddenly extended his hand, calm as ever. "Let's change the tempo," he said quietly.
From the frozen mist around him, massive dense snowballs began to form perfect spheres of white. But unlike any ordinary snow, these were heavy beyond reason. The air around them warped slightly as though gravity itself was bending.
Tom rotated his hand, conjuring the spiraling field of his Rotation to deflect the incoming spheres. But when one struck the vortex, the ground shattered instead.
The force ripped through his barrier, sending Tom flying backward, crashing into a pillar of frozen stone.
He stood up slowly, coughing blood, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell are those?"
Azmaik stepped forward, one snowball floating lazily above his palm. "These?" he said, almost playfully. "They are my Unbound Spheres. They don't follow any law, not gravity, not thermodynamics, not even mass. They exist to erase the concept of resistance. It destroys everything in its way."
The next moment, he threw it. The snowball traveled slower than a blink, yet everything in its path, frost, air, even sound shattered forcefully, violently. Tom barely rolled aside, sphere grazed his shoulder. The cut it left behind burned with cold so intense it steamed.
Tom stood again, clutching his arm. "You talk a lot for someone who is about to lose," he said through clenched teeth. "You're strong but I've fought someone stronger. Karma was worse than you."
Azmaik froze for a moment, his expression softening into something thoughtful. Then he let out a faint sigh, lowering his head. "Stronger? Yes," he said quietly. "Much stronger."
Tom blinked, confused. "Then why he....?"
Azmaik looked at him with calm eyes. "Karma, in a fair one-on-one, would kill me without any difficulty most of the time. That man's control over blood was beyond perfection. His strength, his clarity, his understanding of nature was incomparable . I only survived because I have what he didn't, The Face."
He raised his palm, the snow around him beginning to glow faintly with golden light. "A fraction. One percent of an Overseer's essence."
"Yes," Azmaik said, eyes now gleaming with an eerie luminescence. "I haven't even used that one percent yet. You've been fighting my restraint."
Azmaik smiled faintly. "Karma was a monster of his own making. I only borrowed divinity."
Tom wiped the blood from his lip and grinned. "Then let's see what happens when a monster fights a god's shadow."
The clash between Tom and Azmaik grew so loud that even the stars seemed to tremble. Every blow frost and sparks spread together like dying galaxies.
Tom's Rotation howled, his Absorption field flashing between bursts of magnetic light, while Azmaik's polar threads danced around him.
They were both silent until, mid-clash, Azmaik suddenly laughed. Not mockingly but like a teacher finally revealing an answer his student was never meant to hear.
"You've been fighting so hard to protect them, Tom," Azmaik said, deflecting a strike and freezing the ground beneath Tom's feet, "but do you even know why this war began?"
Tom didn't answer. His teeth were grinding as he forced his rotation to break the ice trap. "Shut your dumbass!"
Azmaik tilted his head, his white robe brushing the air like snow-dusted silk. "You know the Sect, Apollo's Twilight Sect?"
"Yes. What about them?"
"They were never a Sect of any faith." Azmaik's tone dropped lower, his smile gone. "They were a cult. Acurus Tiama was never a prophet or scholar. It was a manipulator, a mouthpiece, serving not a god, but an Overseer."
Tom froze mid-swing. "What?"
Azmaik's eyes gleamed coldly. "Acurus Tiama was created for one purpose: to prepare the world for The Sun Presence, the same Overseer descending tonight. Every ritual, every sacrifice, every false teaching was meant to feed it. To open the path all these centuries!"
Tom's hands trembled. "You're lying…"
"I'm not," Azmaik replied calmly, almost kindly. "And you know who was part of that cult, Tom? Ghira. The one who ruined the Empire of Kayef. The one who cursed the bloodlines, who whispered to the Emperor's daughter. She was under The Sun Presence's influence. She wasn't born wicked, she was infected by its light."
Tom took a step back. His breath fogged the air. "Ghira.…?"
Azmaik pressed forward. "The one thing she carried, the thing she protected above all else.... The Bizarro Solace of Sun, same artifact Acurus Tiama sought to recreate — do you know where it is now?"
Tom's heart pounded in his ears. "What are you trying to say?"
Azmaik grinned, slow and cruel. "You have had it all along."
Tom's mind stuttered. "What….?"
"The yellow rune," Azmaik said softly, his voice echoing like thunder in a dream. "That glowing fragment you carry. The one you thought was your weapon, your precious charm. That's the Bizarro Solace of Sun, Tom."
The world fell silent around him. His blade wavered in his hand.
"It's the core of the Overseer's descent," Azmaik continued. "The rune isn't just a relic. It's a seed, condensed will of The Sun Presence itself. Every death, every war, every fallen soul…. it's all been leading to you."
Tom staggered back, the realization cutting deeper than any wound.
"Me.…?" he whispered. "You're saying…. I'm the reason?"
Azmaik nodded once. "You are the Fifth Vessel of Artorias, the last anchor of the Overseer's light! The 'vessel' isn't a title, Tom. It's a function. You've been carrying the spark that will end this world."
Tom's breath hitched. His vision blurred. The words resounded endlessly — Fifth Vessel.… cause of destruction.… seed of the Sun Presence.
"No…." he muttered. "No, no, no, no...."
Azmaik stepped closer, his eyes glowed with polar light. "You've been fighting to protect everyone, but you were the catastrophe all along. Every time you used your power, you fed it. You let the Overseer see through you."
Tom fell to his knees. "You're lying…."
Azmaik leaned down, his tone turning soft, almost pitying. "The truth doesn't need to lie, Vessel."
Tom's mind splintered. Faces flashed — Elior, Grace, Rosario, the survivors, the boy who died in his arms.
Had he doomed them all from the very start?
The rune in his pocket, that faint golden glow increased, brighter and brighter.
Azmaik straightened up, staring at it with reverence. "It's awakening," he whispered. "The Sun Presence is coming. You are its door."
Tom's body froze as pain ripped through his chest. The rune burned like a sun on his skin.
Azmaik raised his hand, spreading his arms as if welcoming a god. "Look around, Tom. The darkness isn't nighy, it's eclipse. The world's light is descending through you."
And as the aurora tore open above them, Azmaik smiled faintly. "Welcome home, Fifth Vessel."
The light engulfed everything.