The blade descended like a verdict.
Karahad's sword, wreathed in shadows older than memory, carved the air with the certainty of inevitability. His voice carried across the ruins, deeper than thunder, soaked with the cruelty of destiny itself.
"Your fate was sealed the moment you opposed me. Struggle all you like—chains or no chains, the end is the same."
Lan stood where the broken stones bled dust beneath his feet. His chest heaved, every breath sharp and serrated as if the air itself resented his lungs. His skin was laced with blood, bones shrieking under the weight of wounds that should have felled him long ago.
Yet still he stood—battered, trembling, but unbroken.
'If I fall here, everything means nothing. The chains I tore, the lives I dragged back from despair, every limit i swore to break—all ash, all wasted. No. Not here. Not now.'
