The cathedral's walls rippled as the storm within grew wilder.
Kael stood his ground, staff pulsing with raw gravitational pressure. Across from him, Ryne floated above the shattered altar like a fallen god—shadows trailing behind him like wings carved from night.
Their clash hadn't just cracked the floor. It had torn through reality. Time trembled at the edges of each blow. Reflections on the mirrors around them showed versions of themselves still fighting… in different ways. In different futures.
But Kael ignored them. He had to.
"You've changed," Kael muttered. "No. Twisted. The Ryne I knew wouldn't be a pawn for something like the Choir."
"That Ryne was weak," Ryne said coldly. "Naive. He believed power was a burden. That it needed to be shared."
His voice deepened—not in pitch, but in tone. It echoed twice. No… thrice.
"I've accepted the Void Song. I don't resist the current. I conduct it."
A deep hum filled the room. Not just sound—but sensation. A pulse in Kael's bones. The mirrors vibrated, showing twisted versions of Ryne—some monstrous, some ethereal, all far beyond human.
Kael's grip on his staff tightened.
"What the hell is the Void Song?"
Ryne extended a hand. The shadows peeled away from his form to reveal a sigil burned into his chest—an ancient rune, shaped like an eye wreathed in black fire.
"It's what's left of the first will. Before the world had shape. Before rules. It's the song of creation and destruction. Those who learn its rhythm… become more than human."
"You think that makes you a god?" Kael spat.
"No," Ryne said. "It makes me free."
Falling Notes
Sera, panting, pulled herself from the debris. Her blade was broken. Darius was unconscious. Aeris knelt beside him, her barrier barely holding.
Kael didn't move. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off Ryne.
"You're not the only one who's changed," he said, lowering his stance.
The gravity around him surged. A black halo formed around his back—circular, rippling, flickering between matter and anti-matter. The floor beneath his feet inverted, folding upward as if the world bowed to his weight.
Kael raised his staff and whispered a name he hadn't used since the training grounds.
"Ryne… I'll stop you."
"Then I hope you're ready to break," Ryne whispered—and vanished.
They collided.
The staff met Ryne's shadow-cloaked blade in an impact so violent, the sound didn't come immediately. It arrived late, like thunder behind lightning, flattening everything in a fifty-meter radius.
Kael's body twisted, adapting mid-air. He used the gravity of his own momentum to redirect Ryne's follow-up strike, flipping upward and slamming his staff into the Choir-marked ground.
The cathedral folded.
Mirrors cracked. Dimensions twisted. For a heartbeat, both fighters stood in a void of white static.
And then—Kael screamed.
His gravity core expanded.
His eyes flashed a deep, radiant violet.
Ryne staggered.
"What—what is that?!"
Kael's voice didn't just come from his mouth—it resonated in
Ryne's chest.
"I stopped fighting like your friend, Ryne. Now I fight as something else."