The forest shook with thunder that wasn't born of the sky.
Two figures blurred, fists colliding in midair, the impact cracking the earth beneath their feet. Leaves burst from branches with each shockwave, trees bowing and snapping as if the very ground wanted to crawl away from their fight.
Wads' body moved sharp, precise. Every strike measured, every block angled with intent—but still his bones rattled. Each collision sent pain ripping through his arms, his forearms throbbing as if they'd splinter. Caelith's strength was inhuman, a force that reminded him too much of that day in the colosseum.
He exhaled, low, steady, and weight gathered around his fists. His forearms sank heavy, cloaked in invisible pressure until his blows landed like meteors. The shock ran through the dirt itself, spiderweb cracks bursting outward under each strike.
Time slowed.
The twitch of Caelith's lips, the narrowing of his shoulders, even the faint rustle of air before a punch—Wads saw it all. He stepped, slipped aside, countered with a fist angled exactly where it needed to be. He wasn't guessing anymore. He was calculating.
But Caelith did not falter.
His mouth curled into something between a smile and a snarl. Shadows coiled around his hand, and fire licked up his wrist—until both merged into something blacker than night itself. The flame didn't light the forest. It devoured it. And from that darkness, shapes clawed their way out—hungry, red-eyed phantoms lunging with teeth and talons.
Wads smashed one apart, his strike scattering its form like smoke, but two more sprang forward. One claw raked across his weighted guard, the other snapping at his leg. He twisted free, crushed the second into the dirt, and surged forward through the chaos.
Their fists clashed again.
The forest floor erupted, dirt spraying, roots ripping free as their collision carved a crater in the clearing.
Wads broke through one of Caelith's defenses, his fist slamming into the man's shoulder with a sickening crack that sent him staggering. But the counter came just as fast—Caelith's knuckles splitting Wads' lip, blood spilling warm and metallic across his tongue.
Both froze a fraction.
Still standing.
Still glaring.
Blood dripped from Wads' chin, his breathing sharp but steady. Caelith rolled his shoulder once, pain rippling through the motion.
Then—Caelith's body shuddered.
His eyes drowned in black, whites and iris alike consumed until nothing human remained. The spider tattoo at his neck pulsed, glowing a violent, hellish red that crawled like molten cracks through his veins. The glow spread, searing across his skin, alive, burning.
Wads' chest tightened at the sight. He had seen this before—back in the colosseum. The same suffocating aura, the same primal weight that pressed down like a predator's shadow.
And now, in the silence of the forest, with only their ragged breaths between them, Wads realized this was only the beginning.
The red glow on Caelith's throat spread downward like molten veins. His hand flexed—then in a snap of searing shadow, a blade unfurled.
A sword. Born of fire and shadow, its edge pulsed with a crimson haze that ate the night itself. Every swing split the air with a roar like burning metal, and even the trees recoiled, their bark curling black as the sword passed too close.
Wads' breath sharpened. His weight shifted back, every muscle taut. He forced distance, darting wide, boots grinding across the dirt as he kept the monster at arm's reach. But Caelith did not allow it. He hunted. Each step crushed roots, each lunge erased space, his blade tearing gashes through the ground where Wads had just stood.
One strike clipped his shoulder—skin split, blood flared. Another tore across his ribs, a shallow but searing burn that made his breath catch. Wads bit down, forcing his body to move faster.
"Damn it…" he muttered under breath, his arm heavy, his bones screaming with each block.
Still, he braced. The lattice of gravity spread across his forearms like black iron, every strike against it sending shockwaves rattling his bones but holding just enough. The ground beneath him cratered each time he reinforced it, his feet sinking deeper with every clash.
Then it came.
Caelith lunged, blade raised, eyes pitch black and merciless. From Wads' vision, the world slowed—he saw it, the sword arcing toward his chest. He tensed to move—only for his body to lock.
Cold numbness flooded his limbs. His vision snapped, his muscles froze, his legs refused to answer.
Paralyzed.
His heart hammered. He tried to move, tried to breathe, tried to twist away—but his body betrayed him, pinned in invisible chains as Caelith's blade screamed toward him.
And then—
His finger brushed the black ring at his index.
A faint warmth. A glow.
The metal flared, soft at first, then bright, then all-consuming—and a surge of force burst through him. From that ring, black fire spilled, folding and shaping into a blade that sang into existence. A jet-black sword, sleek, merciless, alive.
Wads' body moved—whether instinct or something beyond him, he didn't know. His arm snapped up, sword clashing against Caelith's in an explosion of shadow and flame.
The impact ripped the air.
Both of them were flung apart, bodies crashing into the earth, dirt blasting upward as if the ground itself had been cleaved.
Wads lay on his back, chest heaving, the metallic taste of blood pooling on his tongue. His hand still gripped the new weapon—its surface cold, its glow subtle but constant.
Slowly, he sat up, staring at the blade planted in the dirt before him.
"…This thing—" His brow furrowed, lips twitching as the realization struck. The ring. The cursed ring from the trial chamber that wouldn't come off. It had been this sword all along?
He blinked, his expression twisting comically for a second—mouth slightly agape, brows scrunched in a way that, if anyone saw, would look like a chibi drawing plastered mid-battle.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue in frustration, standing as he swung the blade experimentally. "Figures. Of course it only shows up when I'm about to die."
He sighed, sharp and annoyed, shaking blood off his chin.
Then his gaze lifted.
Across the clearing, Caelith rose, brushing dirt from his arm, his expression twisting into something sharp and unholy. A grin. Menacing, eager.
The forest between them fell silent.
Wads tightened his grip on the sword, adjusted his stance—low, precise, ready. His breathing steadied, his shoulders locked. The battlefield shifted.
The fight was no longer uneven.
Caelith's smile widened, his blade humming with shadows that seemed to scream.
And then—both vanished.
The air exploded where they once stood.
Sparks of shadow and gravity tore across the clearing as the two clashed in a storm of violence. Wads' sword darted, black streaks slicing arcs into the dirt. Caelith's crimson blade met it again and again, each strike ringing sharp enough to shatter branches, the recoil blowing holes into the ground.
Wads ducked a horizontal slash, his counter snapping up like a black fang—only for Caelith to twist aside, his heel cutting a crater into the ground as he spun for a brutal downswing. Wads blocked, gravity reinforcing his guard, sparks exploding between their blades.
They moved faster. Faster. Until to an outside eye, they were gone. Only shockwaves, only tremors in the ground, only trees collapsing as if felled by invisible titans.
Caelith's strike grazed Wads' cheek, blood spraying across the dark. Wads retaliated with a brutal upward slash, grazing across Caelith's ribs, crimson mixing with the black glow.
A blur.
A strike.
A dodge.
A counter.
Their breaths tore through their throats. Their bodies bled. Their eyes locked.
The forest groaned under the sheer pressure of their clash. Leaves were shredded midair, trees bent and cracked as if nature itself recoiled from the collision of two forces too heavy for it to contain.
Wads gripped the jet-black blade tightly, its surface rippling faintly like it carried a starless void. He lunged forward, the gravity around his swing distorting, pulling everything into its arc.
Event Horizon Slash.
The ground warped beneath his strike, soil and broken branches lifting into the air before crashing toward Caelith as though dragged by an invisible current.
Caelith snarled, his crimson-shadow blade humming like it was alive. He spun, carving through the air. From his sword erupted a wave of pitch-black flame, curved like a crescent moon but dripping with devouring darkness.
Abyssal Crescent.
The moment Wads' gravitational arc collided with it, the forest floor buckled. The impact didn't explode—it imploded. The air itself twisted, everything around them collapsing inward before violently dispersing in a concussive shockwave that flattened trees in a radius.
Both combatants slid backward across torn earth, but neither faltered.
Wads' eyes glowed faintly as his hypercognition kicked in. His body blurred forward, his sword cleaving in a low arc. The pull of his swing dragged Caelith half a step closer, forcing him into the attack zone. But Caelith pivoted on his heel, his shadow sword lashing down to parry.
Sparks and fragments of shadow scattered in all directions.
Their blades met again. And again.
Every slash from Wads came like a collapsing star—drawing Caelith closer, forcing him into danger. Every strike from Caelith answered with equal malice, his crimson edge erupting with shadows that twisted and clawed like they wanted to consume flesh.
Wads ducked under a horizontal slash, twisting his blade upward with the pull of gravity. The weight of the attack ripped a tree trunk clean out of the ground and sent it crashing between them. Caelith slashed through the falling trunk like it was paper, his sword oozing black flame that ate through wood and left glowing embers of nothingness.
Wads pushed forward, blade dragging through the dirt, carving a heavy diagonal swing meant to collapse Caelith's guard. The ground itself shifted with the pull of gravity, tilting toward the path of the slash.
But Caelith countered with another vicious skill.
Voidfang Execution.
He thrust his blade forward, and the crimson shadows extended into a massive, jagged fang that lunged outward like a predator. The shadow-fang crashed against Wads' gravity slash—both forces grinding, pressing, distorting the air with a metallic howl before detonating into pure force.
The shockwave threw both men back again, but neither allowed even a heartbeat to pass. They blurred into each other once more, blades striking in a storm of motion so fast it was nearly invisible.
Steel rang against shadow. Gravity arcs collided with crimson crescents. The forest became a battlefield of collapsing earth and devouring flame, every movement weaving destruction in its wake.
Caelith ducked low, twisting his sword upward in a spiraling slash, shadows curling like a serpent. Wads responded instantly, dragging his sword down with crushing weight. The two blades clashed mid-spin, locking again. Their eyes met—one burning with calm fury, the other with manic crimson fire.
The ground beneath their feet cracked like glass.
Then they broke apart—only to vanish and collide again.
Each strike, each block, each dodge was honed to lethal precision. Their silhouettes became blurs in the open space of the forest, only the shockwaves and the roar of breaking earth marking where they once stood.
It was no longer just a fight.
It was a collision of two forces meant to tear the world apart.
The air froze.
Caelith's eyes widened, veins pulsing black across his skin. His body trembled—not in weakness, but from power spiraling out of control. The crimson-shadow blade in his hands bled light, every inch trembling as if screaming with hunger.
Then—
"Diety of the Black Sun!"
A rumble shook the forest. The sky above warped, contorting until a massive, corrupted star bled into existence. A black sun, radiating corrupted twilight, eclipsed the heavens. Its light was not warm but suffocating, drowning the world in shadow.
The forest screamed.
Shadows stretched unnaturally long and then rose—sharp tendrils lashing out like spears, writhing serpents that slashed and strangled anything they touched. Flames inverted, now icy and pale, crawling across trees and devouring them from within, leaving hollow shells of ash.
The ground fractured. Space bent. Even time itself felt staggered—leaves caught midair shivered in unnatural slow motion before violently snapping forward again.
Caelith stood beneath it, his teeth clenched, blood trickling from his lips as if his body was breaking under his own dominion. Yet his void eyes blazed, his mouth curving into a grin of madness and pride.
Across from him, Wads stood firm, breathing heavily, sweat dripping from his temples. His sword pulsed, its void-black edge quivering as if responding to its master. His chest rose and fell rapidly, yet his gaze never wavered.
"…So this is your diety," Wads muttered, his voice calm despite the storm, "but fate doesn't bow to your sun."
He lowered his stance, both hands gripping his sword. His aura flared—gravity itself thickening around him. The earth caved in a perfect circle beneath his feet, the sheer pull dragging stone and debris toward him. His eyes sharpened, glowing faintly, a quiet storm of inevitability burning within them.
"Singularity Pierce."
The tip of his blade condensed into a tiny point of impossible weight. The world groaned—soil compressed into pebbles, pebbles into dust, dust into nothing. All of it was pulled into that singular point at his blade's edge.
But that wasn't all.
The blade twisted faintly, as though alive. It bent—not toward where Caelith stood, but where he would be, chosen by inevitability itself.
The two forces collided.
Caelith swung his sword high, summoning down a torrent of shadow-lances from the black sun above, each one screaming as it pierced through the sky. Wads lunged upward into them, his singularity thrust meeting the storm head-on.
The world collapsed.
The impact tore through the forest like a second sun exploding. Shadows imploded, dragged inward, screaming as they were crushed by the singularity's pull. Trees ripped from their roots, earth rose into the air and then flattened in violent shockwaves. The black sun itself warped, its edges cracking like a glass sphere under immense pressure.
For a heartbeat—nothing.
Then the black sun shattered.
The heavens screamed, the shadows dissipating in a storm of fading red light. The forest was left scarred, craters and blackened earth stretching for dozens of meters, the smell of ash and iron thick in the air.
Both fighters fell from the center of the devastation.
Wads crashed to one knee, coughing violently as blood splattered against the dirt. His chest heaved, his grip on the blade trembling until it slipped from his fingers. He toppled sideways, barely catching himself with a palm before collapsing flat on the ground, every breath ragged.
Across from him, Caelith staggered forward a step, two, his sword dragging lifelessly behind him. Blood poured from cuts all over his body, his once-flaring crimson aura now flickering weakly. His knees buckled. He fell face-first, his body twitching faintly, breath shallow and strained.
The battlefield fell silent.
Wads blinked weakly, his vision swimming in and out of focus. He turned his head upward, staring at the broken sky through half-lidded eyes. His lips parted in a faint exhale, as though trying to laugh—but only a hoarse cough escaped.
His sword lay forgotten. His arms failed him. His body tilted forward.
He was about to hit the ground when—
A hand caught his shoulder.
"...You idiot," a calm, sharp voice murmured.
Wads' blurry eyes shifted sideways. His vision barely registered her, but he didn't need clarity. He recognized the aura instantly.
Reiyell.
She had arrived in a blur, just as his body gave out. Her hand steadied him effortlessly, holding him up before he could collapse completely. Her gaze flicked across the battlefield, sharp and assessing. When her eyes landed on Caelith's bloodied form sprawled weakly on the ground, her lips curved into the faintest smile.
Her grip tightened on Wads, steady and unyielding.
And for the first time, the forest exhaled—though only in the silence left by two person who nearly destroyed it.