Three commanders fell.
The battlefield still burned. The armies still tore each other apart.
But at the center, only two figures remained.
Ren.
And the obsidian commander.
The final duel of the field.
★★★
The plain was broken.
Three commanders had fallen. The Titan's corpse bled into stone. The void-walker was gone, erased. The woman of masks had been consumed in light.
But one remained.
The Obsidian Commander stood in silence. His armor gleamed black, unmarred. His helm's crest caught the light of burning skies. In his hands rested a blade longer than a man, its edge perfect, its weight infinite.
Around him, Ren's fog bent away.
Ervin lay slumped in the ruins of his lightning-spire, ribs shattered, lungs drowning in blood. Vael leaned against stone, half-blind, his good hand still tight around nothing. Elara knelt, hair tangled, her glow reduced to embers.
None of them could rise.
Ren alone still stood.
