Kaelan spreads his wings wide, feathers blazing as he returns to his full size.
A thunderous caw splits the air, echoing across the battlefield.
He dives, a streak of black and fire, talons stretched toward the lone human rising to meet him.
The human ascends swiftly, qi surging, his gaze fixed upward.
Moments before their collision, Kaelan weaves the flame claw spell, fire wreathing his talon in burning light.
The human answers with water true qi, his body sheathed in liquid brilliance as his fist drives forward.
Fire and water collide.
The clash detonates in a roar, flames hissing into steam, waves splashing into sparks.
The backlash tears through the sky, flinging Kaelan and the man apart, wings and robes buffeted by the storm of their own power.
Both steady themselves, eyes locked, the battle only just begun.
Gaining lift from the explosion, Kaelan twists higher into the sky.
A dozen feathers tear free from his wings, each gleaming with metallic light before streaking down toward the human like blades.
The man wraps himself in water true qi, his movements sharp as he deflects, dodges, and cuts through the rain of steel, surging upward toward Kaelan.
Yet the feathers do not relent. They whirl and swoop, crossing paths, blocking angles, forcing him to waste motion.
Kaelan watches with narrowed eyes, his spirit brushing against the man's aura.
Something is wrong.
From this human, he senses both the calm flow of a qi refiner and the hardened edge of a martial artist—two paths woven into one body.
The man snarls at the obstruction, his roar bursting from his chest.
Behind him, a tiger takes form—vast, blue, and roaring to the heavens.
The sound wave tears through the sky, shredding the energy from Kaelan's feathers and sending them tumbling lifeless toward the ground.
Kaelan's gaze sharpens.
This is no illusion. The aura of the beast is real, heavy, alive.
The man drives forward, the phantom tiger bounding with him, waves of sea-blue qi rolling in its wake.
Kaelan calls on his talent spell. His body hardens, feathers darkening to stone as Ironstone Body wraps him in unyielding strength.
They meet in a furious clash.
Fist slams into claw. Wing batters against the shoulder. Beak snaps toward flesh. Talons rake against hardened qi.
Explosions of air crack through the night with every strike.
They break apart, only to hurl themselves together again, blows falling like thunder across the sky.
The sky shakes with their struggle, each impact flaring qi and stone-feather sparks across the dark.
Neither yields.
Kaelan's wings drive him in sweeping arcs, claws raking, beak snapping, each strike heavy with fire and stone.
The human answers with fists wrapped in surging water qi, every blow rolling like waves, every block crashing like the sea against rock.
Again and again they collide, tearing through clouds, shockwaves rippling across the battlefield below.
Demons and humans pause in fleeting glances upward, but the storm of power above is beyond their reach.
The fight drags on.
The black of night thins, stars fading as the horizon warms.
Still, they clash—iron body against flowing tide, feathers of stone against the roar of the tiger.
The first blush of dawn paints the sky, its shadows cutting through its light.
Then the sun lifts free of the horizon, golden rays spilling across the battlefield.
Kaelan and the man circle once more, battered but unyielding, their auras burning fiercer in the newborn day.
The battle has not slowed. It has only begun.
The sun climbs higher, light spilling across their battlefield in the clouds.
Kaelan feels the weight of each exchange press deeper into his frame.
His talons slash, his beak strikes, his wings hammer, yet every movement draws harder on his cultivation.
His foe's aura is clear now—stage two, surging and forceful.
Kaelan's Ironstone Body lifts him to match it, stone-hard flesh against the storm of water qi, but the truth gnaws at him.
Beneath the hardened shell, his cultivation remains at stage one.
Every clash burns his energy faster than it should.
Yet he endures.
The human's power surges in waves, brilliant but consuming, each strike costly.
Kaelan, though straining, feels the difference.
His talent spell stabilises him; his body is built to last.
He can sustain longer.
And so, as the sun rises full and the day takes hold, Kaelan's gaze sharpens with grim resolve.
The fight is even now.
But endurance will decide who falls first.
The sky trembles with their blows, every clash scattering fire, stone, and water across the clouds.
Kaelan holds firm, each strike measured, each beat of his wings driven by will as much as strength.
But time works against him.
The Ironstone Body gnaws at his reserves, each heartbeat draining more of the energy that sustains it.
Cracks creep into his defences—feathers losing their weight of stone, fire dimming along his claws.
The human senses it.
His strikes grow sharper, his water qi crashing harder, the phantom tiger behind him roaring with greater force.
Kaelan answers with talon and beak, but every exchange pushes him further back, his body heavier, his breath rougher.
The tide turns, slow but certain.
The human's fists hammer forward like relentless waves, driving Kaelan down through the bright morning sky.
Kaelan steadies himself with a snap of his wings, eyes cold even as his body strains.
The Ironstone Body shudders on the edge of collapse, and he knows the truth—
If the spell fails, his foe's advantage will surge like a flood.
The Ironstone Body trembles, cracks spreading through the stone sheen of his feathers.
Kaelan's breath rasps, his wings heavy, but his eyes gleam with cold fire.
He lets the talent spell fade, body shedding its weight of stone.
The human surges in at once, water qi blazing, phantom tiger leaping to tear him down.
At that instant, Kaelan turns inward, spirit flaring like a hidden sun.
His will slams outward, a wave of pressure stabbing into the man's mind.
The human freezes mid-strike, his eyes flickering as though drowning in unseen weight.
The tiger behind him wavers, its roar faltering, sea waves collapsing into spray.
Kaelan seizes the heartbeat of silence.
He steadies his breath, wings sweeping wide, body drawing strength from the pause.
But he knows the truth—this cannot last.
His spirit can suppress, can harry, but not destroy.
Already the human strains against it, qi flaring, his eyes sharpening with renewed fury.
Kaelan narrows his gaze, talons flexing.
The fight continues, balanced once more, both predator and prey in a dance neither can yet escape.
Kaelan's spirit flares again, a jagged pulse that slams into the human's mind, freezing his movements for a heartbeat.
The man stumbles, qi wavering, the phantom tiger behind him faltering in its stride.
Kaelan hammers forward, talons and beak striking, wings whipping like blades, yet the human forces himself upright, pushing back against the mental assault.
The bursts of spirit pressure repeat, each one sharp, jarring, suppressing, but never lasting more than a moment.
The human roars, water qi churning violently, fists hammering, tiger surging, striking Kaelan from every angle.
Blows tear through stone and flesh alike; feathers crack, qi bursts, and air shatters around them.
Kaelan absorbs as best he can, but each strike leaves him bruised, clawed, fire dimming, wings trembling under the strain.
The human fights with everything he has, eyes wild, sweat and blood streaking his face.
He knows what is at stake—if Kaelan falls, the ruin is theirs, the treasure theirs.
If he delays, his sect will be shattered, dozens of comrades dead or broken.
Every second weighs on him.
He drives forward relentlessly, punishing Kaelan with fists, waves, and tiger leaps, striking with fury that leaves his own body bleeding, burning, and aching.
Kaelan parries and strikes back, each clash a storm of power, air exploding, clouds shredded.
Neither yields fully, but the brutality escalates—the fight becomes a war in miniature, two forces pushing every limit of body, qi, and spirit.
Every burst of Kaelan's spirit pressure buys him a fraction of breath, a split second to recover, but the human's resolve only hardens.
Pain bites deep into both of them, wings tearing, muscles screaming, qi burning through veins.
The duel is no longer just skill—it is survival, will, and desperate calculation, each strike potentially the last.
And still they fight, sun now high above, casting their shadows across the clouds in a battlefield drenched in fury and light.
The human surges, strikes landing heavier, waves of water qi crashing through Kaelan's defences.
For a moment, the tide seems to turn—his fists driving Kaelan backwards, phantom tiger leaping, the sky a storm of fury and power.
Kaelan's wings strain, claws scraped, feathers cracked, but he holds, spirit pressure flaring in bursts to slow the human's advance.
The rain blows harder, and the human tastes the possibility of victory.
His chest heaves, eyes gleaming, blood streaking sweat and grime, qi flaring bright and sharp.
Then, in an instant, everything stops.
A golden sword bursts from the air, moving faster than thought.
It pierces through the human's protective true qi, slicing through the heart.
His eyes widen, locking on Kaelan's with disbelief and shock.
The breath in his chest falters.
He slides down the sword's edge, lifeless, as the golden blade falls toward the ground.
Kaelan does not pause.
He lifts the sword, controlling it like a flying weapon, and sweeps across the battlefield.
Humans fall like crops before a scythe, their qi and resistance shredded, screams swallowed by the golden edge.
Amid the carnage, one human staggers, wounded but alive, dropping to his knees.
He raises his hands, chest heaving, surrendering fully to Kaelan's power.
The demons below roar, claws and tails slashing, howls tearing the air, shaking the sky.
The battlefield trembles with their victory and their bloodlust, echoing across the forest and the rift beyond.
Kaelan perches above, golden sword hovering, eyes cold and sharp, surveying the devastation he has wrought.