The throne hall cracked with tension.
Stone groaned. Flame dimmed. And two forces—one born of ruin, the other of rebirth—stood across
from one another, unmoving.
Torian's eyes locked on Malvorn's as his spiral burned visibly, glowing across his chest, shoulders,
arms, and the back of his hands. The flame was not dancing—it was alive, steady, pulsing with the
rhythm of a world rising.
Malvorn's spiral pulsed black-red, its shape constantly shifting, never at rest. Corrupted. Hungry.
Burning as though it hated the very body it had bonded to.
"You look smaller than I remember," Malvorn rumbled."You look lonelier," Torian replied.
Malvorn grinned, a terrifying show of cracked teeth and scarred gums. "Still with the tongue. I
missed that."
Torian took a step forward. The ground beneath his bare foot didn't crack—it hummed. "You've
missed a lot. You burned cities. Turned truth into weapon. Built monuments to fear."
"And you ran," Malvorn hissed.
"I survived."
"And now you think you're something more."
"I am."
Malvorn's grin vanished. "Then prove it."
⸻
The air collapsed.
Malvorn's first step cracked the floor. His second sent him hurtling forward like a meteor—fist pulled
back, spiral flaring violently. The punch came faster than stone had time to shatter.
Torian slid under it, barely needing to move. His body was fluid, his mind still.
Malvorn spun with surprising grace for his size, bringing down a hammer-fist meant to crater a
mountain. Torian raised his spiral-marked forearm and caught it. The floor beneath him cracked
outward in a perfect ring—but he didn't move an inch.
He turned Malvorn's arm sideways and let the force redirect itself into the stone.
Malvorn snarled. "Parlor tricks."
Torian answered with a palm strike to the chest—not a blast, but a pulse. His flame surged outward
in concentric rings of gold-white light, throwing Malvorn ten feet backward into a pillar of black
glass.The entire room shuddered.
Skarn backed up slowly, crouched and ready. Karnis watched from the side of the hall, his violet
aura flickering around his claws.
⸻
Malvorn rose from the rubble and laughed.
"I like this version of you. No tears. No begging."
Torian didn't answer. He was already moving—sliding forward like water, spiral glowing brighter,
hands loose, sword untouched.
He ducked under a wild punch, spun, and drove his elbow into Malvorn's floating rib. The sound was
like breaking an iron wall.
Malvorn didn't flinch.
Instead, he roared and slammed his head into Torian's, sending sparks flying and knocking him
back. Torian slid across the floor, caught himself, and turned with a single graceful step.
The spiral across his face glowed brighter.
Malvorn charged again—but this time Torian didn't dodge.
He stepped into the blow.
Their fists collided—one black-red, one gold-white—and the shockwave sent a blast of wind through
the throne hall strong enough to knock over flame-wrought statues along the walls.
Karnis shielded his face. "They're breaking the building."
Skarn roared, pawing the ground, ready to leap in.
But Torian turned slightly. "No."⸻
The fight became motion and light.
Malvorn fought like a battering ram—direct, brutal, destructive. Every punch could break a building.
Every stomp made the floor quake.
Torian moved like a flame come to life. He bent, redirected, struck at angles that defied traditional
combat. His attacks weren't meant to wound—they were meant to reveal. To expose Malvorn's
rhythm. To understand his enemy before unmaking him.
But restraint had its cost.
Malvorn grabbed Torian mid-spin and slammed him into the ground, then lifted him and hurled him
across the throne hall. Torian crashed through a pillar and landed hard near the throne itself.
Skarn roared and charged—but Malvorn turned and struck first, driving a backfist into the beast's
chest that sent him sailing through two blackstone columns. Skarn hit the floor and slid, breath
knocked from his lungs.
"Skarn!" Karnis shouted, running toward him.
Malvorn turned to Karnis next and pointed.
A wave of corrupted telekinetic force blasted from his palm, shoving Karnis back so hard he cracked
the wall behind him. The feline groaned, struggling to stand.
⸻
Torian rose.
Slower this time.
Blood ran down his chin. His spiral glowed hotter.
"Still holding back?" Malvorn taunted.
"I was hoping," Torian said, voice steady, "you could be saved."Malvorn laughed—low, cruel. "Your compassion is weakness."
Torian's eyes narrowed.
"No. It's what makes me different."
And his spiral exploded into light.
⸻
The flame wasn't flame anymore.
It was form.
Torian's body lifted from the ground slightly—just inches. His spiral wrapped around him like armor,
glowing so brightly it erased the shadows from the room. The cracks in the throne hall ceased to
matter. The space bent around him.
Even Malvorn paused.
Torian dropped his sword.
He didn't need it.
He moved now without hesitation.
Malvorn swung again, but this time—Torian caught the fist mid-air, turned, and lifted Malvorn off the
ground.
Then he threw him.
The great warlord smashed through the throne itself, toppling it into rubble. For a brief second,
silence.
Karnis sat up slowly, his jaw slack.
"He's not fighting," he whispered. "He's… choosing."⸻
Malvorn rose from the wreckage, slower now.
His spiral writhed violently, fighting to maintain cohesion.
He snarled. "What are you?"
Torian didn't answer.
He walked forward slowly, calmly, each step sending ripples of flame across the floor.
"I'm not your shadow," he said. "I'm not your opposite."
He raised one glowing hand.
"I'm your end."
Malvorn screamed and charged—but his movements were clumsier now. Torian didn't move to meet
him. He let the flame answer.
It surged from his body in a slow, burning ring.
And when it touched Malvorn—it didn't burn.
It purged.
⸻
Malvorn stumbled, clutching his chest. His spiral flickered—twitched. As if something inside it
screamed.
He roared again and struck Torian with both fists.
Torian slid back—but didn't fall.
Both were breathing hard now.Both were hurt.
But one had grown.
The other was cracking.
The throne hall trembled.
Malvorn stepped back, hunched slightly now, his spiral flickering erratically. The corruption within it
writhed like a living parasite, no longer in perfect control. His breath came heavy. His gaze was fire
and fury, but his body betrayed him—small tremors in his fingers, staggered weight in his stance.
"You… think you've won?" he spat.
Torian stood tall, his spiral still aglow, not as a weapon—but as an extension of self. "This isn't about
winning."
"Then why are you here?"
Torian stepped forward. "To end the lie."
Malvorn raised both hands and roared.
The walls of the citadel cracked.
The sky darkened outside the high windows.
All at once, the throne hall collapsed inward—not from impact, but from Malvorn's will. Spires of
black flame burst from the floor. The shattered walls twisted into writhing tentacles of stone and
molten steel. It was no longer a fortress—it was a storm of form, reshaped by Malvorn's unraveling
power.
The Warlord of the Spiral had stopped holding back.
And he was dying to take the world with him.
⸻Skarn rose from the rubble, breathing heavily. Blood matted parts of his fur. But his eyes burned
with clarity.
He launched himself into the fray.
Not toward Malvorn—but toward a support beam about to fall on Torian.
With one mighty leap, he intercepted it with his back, shattering it before it reached his friend.
Torian turned, nodded once.
Then kept walking.
⸻
Karnis stood shakily, blood trickling down the side of his face. He extended one claw, and the stone
shards around him lifted in his violet aura.
His voice was rough. "I don't care if he's a god. I'm not letting you fight alone."
Torian looked to him.
"I'm not alone," he said.
He extended his hand.
Karnis took it.
The spiral around Torian's arm pulsed.
And Karnis's aura flared brighter than ever before—boosted, as though flame and mind had aligned.
⸻
Malvorn struck again—this time with everything.
Waves of raw flame erupted from his body in all directions. Telekinetic force cracked stone andmelted steel. The fortress began to sink inward, pulled toward him like gravity reversing.
But Torian didn't move.
He stood in the eye of it.
The flame didn't consume him—it obeyed him.
And then, Torian finally lifted both hands.
He called the spiral not from his body—but into the world.
Glyphs appeared in the air—ancient symbols that curved and intersected. Flame moved with them,
swirling in an elegant cage around Malvorn, not to harm—but to contain.
⸻
Malvorn panicked.
"No—NO! I AM THE FLAME! I AM THE FIRST BEARER!"
Torian's voice was soft. "You were. But you chose wrong."
Malvorn roared and slammed his fists into the cage—but it didn't break. Each time he struck it, the
spiral around his chest unraveled further.
His power wasn't returning—it was being purified.
And that hurt more than death.
⸻
"You could've saved me," Malvorn growled, eyes wild. "You could've joined me. We could've ruled—
reformed the world!"
Torian stepped close.
"I didn't come here to rule."He placed a hand on the edge of the flame cage.
"I came here to let you go."
Malvorn let out a sound—not rage.
A sob.
And then his spiral shattered.
The light burst from within him, not in fire—but in release.
Malvorn fell to his knees.
And dissolved.
⸻
Silence.
True silence.
The spiral cage vanished.
Only ash remained.
Torian stood over it, eyes closed, spiral dimming.
Karnis limped forward, his chest heaving.
"It's over," he said.
Skarn walked slowly to Torian's side, bloodied but proud.
Torian opened his eyes.
"No," he said quietly. "It's only just beginning."⸻
The citadel began to fall.
But it didn't collapse.
It unraveled—stone turning to mist, flame turning to smoke. The false spirals on the walls faded to
dust.
Everything Malvorn had built…
Forgotten.
Torian walked out through the main gates.
Behind him, the ruins of the throne hall blew away like wind-carved ash.
⸻
Three days later, the skies above the highlands turned gold for the first time in years.
People returned to their homes.
The black gates were gone.
And in the center of a hilltop once cursed by war…
Torian stood, watching the wind pass through the grass.