The charred remains of the Temple of Oaths crackled under Nirvaan's boots. Broken pillars jutted toward the skies like pleading fingers. The banners of the Old Order lay in ash.
He walked through the wreckage, memories flashing — of brothers who betrayed, of sacred halls that turned into prisons.
A voice echoed from the shadows.
"You should not have returned."
From the smoke emerged a figure in silver armor, helmet marked with divine runes — Seraphon, Keeper of the Bound Word.
Nirvaan smiled. "You were always a loyal dog."
"I was loyal to balance. You were chaos."
They clashed.
Blade met blade in a storm of sparks and fury. Divine energy surged, shaking the ruins. But Nirvaan was no longer mortal. He fought like a storm incarnate.
Seraphon faltered. "What are you now?"
"I am wrath perfected."
With a final strike, Nirvaan shattered the divine blade and impaled Seraphon upon the sacred altar.
The temple crumbled.
The Old Order was no more.