The battlefield was a shattered canvas of smoke, broken earth, and burning qi. The air reeked of blood and ozone, where blood magic and elemental sorcery had clashed in relentless waves. Altharion stood at the heart of it, his crimson aura flickering wildly like a candle in a storm. His shadow-forged blade, Umbrafang, pulsed in his grip, drinking the darkness around him as if hungry for more.
Across from him, the Archmage of Azure Flame, Lysandor, floated above the ground on a disc of sapphire fire, his eyes like twin suns. The man's magic bled into the sky, warping the clouds into jagged fractures that crackled with electric blue lightning. "You should have stayed hidden, Shadow Lord," Lysandor's voice boomed, layered with enchantment. "The heavens themselves reject you."
Altharion smirked. "Then I'll just break the heavens too."
With a step, he vanished—Shadow Step. The ground where he had stood exploded as Lysandor's firestorm slammed into it, fusing stone into molten glass. Altharion emerged behind him, swinging Umbrafang in a vertical arc that split the air. But Lysandor was already gone, blinking through space in a trail of azure sparks.
"You think you're the only one who can twist the void?" the mage taunted. His hands moved in a blur, tracing glowing runes in the air. Six spectral phoenixes erupted from the glyphs, their bodies formed of blue fire, wings tearing through the smoke like blades.
Altharion's qi surged. Shadows pooled at his feet, swirling upward to form a towering wall of darkness. The first phoenix slammed into it, bursting into embers. The second broke through, talons raking his shoulder, drawing blood. Altharion grunted, his own blood magic responding instantly. The wound hissed and sealed, the crimson essence twisting into spectral tendrils that lashed out and dragged the bird into the dark, snuffing it out with a hiss.
Three more came. He didn't block this time—he became shadow. Their claws passed through smoke, their flames dimming as he reformed behind them, cutting two down in one sweeping strike. The last one dove straight at him, only for Altharion to thrust his palm forward. Blood Surge. A crimson spear erupted from his hand, skewering the phoenix mid-flight and pinning it into the earth where it dissolved into cinders.
"Enough playing." Altharion raised his sword high, shadow qi spiraling around the blade like a black hurricane. "You've been keeping that barrier up for too long, Lysandor. Let's see if it can survive me."
He slashed downward, and the world screamed. The strike tore open the ground in a jagged line, a rift of absolute darkness devouring stone and flame alike. Lysandor's shield of azure flared bright, but cracks spiderwebbed across it instantly. The mage's smirk faltered.
"Impossible—"
BOOM! The barrier shattered, releasing a shockwave that hurled Lysandor back. Altharion didn't wait. He was already moving, shadow-stepping through the aftershock, Umbrafang poised for the killing blow.
But Lysandor roared, and the sky itself split. From the rift above, a colossal phoenix descended, its body as large as a fortress, its flames so bright they burned color from the world. "You will not take me so easily, Shadow Lord!"
Altharion's grin widened. His shadow qi flared to its limit, his blood magic boiling in his veins. "Good," he whispered. "I was starting to get bored."
The giant phoenix screamed, its voice a storm of fire. Altharion met it head-on, blade to beak, darkness to flame. The shockwave of their clash tore the clouds apart, and for a moment, it felt like the entire sky might collapse under the weight of their power.
The fractured heavens burned red and black.