The battlefield erupted into a storm of color, will, and soul.
Sloth, scarred yet endlessly healing, stood at the center like an immortal scar on the world, his voice dragging through the air like heavy chains:
"How long will this futile fight last?"
But this was no longer a clash of youth against despair. This was a convergence rookies and veterans alike burning their souls into weapons.
Rael lifted his hand, his voice breaking into prayer and decree:
"Judicator Form."
The world answered. Six colossal wings of light ripped into being from his back, feathers stretching like celestial scripture, each rune burning with fractal infinity. His veins glowed white-hot, and his frame became something more than human each line of his body inscribed in judgment's fire. His blade was no longer steel, but verdict, cutting through shadow with divine inevitability.
