A reddish-black haze hung in the air. The battlefield was scorched, littered with smoldering corpses of demons, the soil soaked in a sickly blend of blood and ash. The remnants of Kar'Thael's rebellion stood tall, behind them the people of Arcana—scarred, bruised, but alive. Yet standing before them now was their darkest nightmare.
Jobul, the traitor lord, the usurper of Arcana's throne, stood amid the battlefield. His dark robes rippled with cursed winds. Behind him, the bodies of his four sons lay defeated, mutilated by the combined might of Kar'Thael and Arslan. Their twisted forms were barely recognizable—and yet, to Jobul, it was enough.
He stepped forward, eyes glowing with rage, voice like thunder beneath the weight of his grief.
"Now... I think I have motive to kill you both," Jobul growled, lifting his hand and letting a flicker of flame dance across his fingers. "You killed my sons... You killed my legacy. But now, I will show you the power you could never fathom."
Kar'Thael stood unmoved, his cloak whipping behind him.
"Then so be it, Jobul," he said coldly. "You no longer deserve to breathe Arcana's air. I will bury you with the traitors."
Arslan nodded silently beside him. There was no more to say.
Kar'Thael merged into Arslan once more. A rush of ethereal light spiraled around them as the two auras intertwined. The fusion crackled with bound energy. From their back, wings of flame and shadow erupted, their aura dark and radiant, a fusion of demonic heritage and divine vengeance.
"Now!" Arslan roared.
They launched forward.
But Jobul was ready.
With a wave of his hand, the earth trembled.
"GRAVITY PUSH!" he screamed.
A dome of immense pressure exploded outward. Arslan's flight collapsed instantly. The merged warrior was thrown like a meteor across the battlefield, crashing through the broken remnants of stone pillars and skidding across jagged ground.
Before they could rise, Jobul raised both hands to the burning sky.
"UNLIMITED STRIKES OF FIRE!"
A rain of searing fireblades descended, each one howling with demonic rage. Like an apocalyptic hailstorm, they fell with no mercy.
Arslan barely managed to raise his hands.
"DARK SHIELD!" Kar'Thael cried from within.
A dark, obsidian dome shimmered around them, taking the brunt of the strikes. But each explosion sent cracks rippling across its surface.
"It won't hold," Arslan said through gritted teeth.
"Then we bind again," Kar'Thael's voice echoed from within.
They closed their eyes, and a pulse of shadow shot into the sky. Their bond solidified once more—not just a fusion, but a complete soul resonance.
"SOULFLARE DOMINANCE!" they shouted in unison.
A pulse of dark crimson surged from their body, creating a dome of raw energy. Simultaneously:
"PHANTOM RIFT!"
Reality itself split before them like glass. They vanished through the rift, reappearing mid-air, cutting through the storm of fire with surgical strikes.
"FIRE WIND!" Kar'Thael invoked.
A vortex of flame and ash spiraled from their body, shooting toward Jobul like a divine inferno. It collided.
The explosion shook the skies.
Smoke and dust spiraled into a towering column.
Silence.
Cheers began to rise from the people.
"They did it!" "Jobul is defeated!" "Arcana is free!"
Kar'Thael separated from Arslan, exhausted but triumphant. Their knees nearly buckled as they fell side-by-side, breathing heavily, watching the dust slowly settle.
But then...
"SHING!"
A horrific sound.
A massive, jagged blade cut through the smoke like a comet.
And it pierced Arslan's chest.
The scream never left his lips. Blood spurted from his mouth. His eyes widened in shock.
Kar'Thael's heart stopped. "ARSLAN!" he screamed.
The blade twisted, then with violent force, Arslan was flung backwards. He slammed against a blackened boulder, crumpling to the ground.
His body lay still.
Blood seeped from the wound, painting the ground around him.
"NO!" Kar'Thael ran to him.
But standing amidst the smoke, untouched by the Fire Wind, was Jobul.
His form was now monstrous. Flames danced along his veins. His eyes had become fully demonic, and in his hand was the giant blade, still soaked in Arslan's blood.
"You thought it was over?" Jobul hissed. "You should know... True demons never die in the light."
Kar'Thael fell to his knees beside Arslan.
"No... No... Stay with me," he whispered, shaking his friend.
Arslan's eyes barely opened. A trail of blood slid from the corner of his lips.
"I… I'm not... done yet," he rasped.
"Don't speak. Save your strength," Kar'Thael said, placing a glowing hand over Arslan's wound. But the magic fizzled.
"It's... too deep..."
Tears welled up in Kar'Thael's eyes. The mighty warrior who had once burned cities, now knelt beside his brother-in-arms, helpless.
"You idiot... You said you'd see the new Arcana... You promised."
"And I... I will," Arslan whispered. **"But... he's strong... Kar...T—"
He went limp.
Kar'Thael stood slowly, turning toward Jobul. The wind picked up, and flames crackled behind him. The silence was heavier than war drums.
"You… You took my brother..."
His voice was no longer calm. It was wrath incarnate.
"I will burn the stars for this."
Behind him, the people of Arcana stared in horror. A hush fell across the battlefield. Healers ran toward Arslan, desperately trying to stabilize him.
Jobul, however, stood tall, smiling. His voice echoed with demonic laughter.
"Your soul will break like your shield did... and then... Arcana will kneel once again."
Kar'Thael raised his hand. The sky began to darken. The clouds churned like oceans of black. The rage of a thousand fallen boiled within him.
And somewhere, Arslan's pulse faint. A flicker of energy still danced around his heart.
But for now, the battlefield belonged to wrath.