The sky above was no longer sky—it was a churning wound of black and crimson, twisting like an inverted whirlpool. Fractures of light, sharp and jagged, split the horizon as if the world itself were being torn apart. The air vibrated with a low, unnatural hum, and every breath tasted of ash and iron.
Altharion stood at the cliff's edge, cape whipping violently in the void's pull. In the distance, the great fortress of Drakmire was collapsing into itself, each stone spiraling upward before vanishing into the rift. The army behind him shuffled in uneasy silence, the once-roaring warband now reduced to whispers.
"Once that tear fully opens," Veyra's voice cut through the din, "everything—this realm, the shadowlands, even the celestial pathways—will merge. And then, nothing will be left but chaos."
Her tone was steady, but Altharion caught the flicker of fear in her eyes. She had seen battles against gods and survived, yet this was different. This wasn't a war they could simply win by cutting down the enemy. This was annihilation.
He tightened his grip on the Soulbrand, the blade humming as if sensing the approaching cataclysm. "Then we end it before it swallows us whole."
A deep rumble rose from the chasm ahead. From the heart of the rift, something vast began to emerge—first a claw, then a wing, and finally the horned visage of the Void Tyrant itself. Its form was a monstrous paradox, constantly shifting between flesh, shadow, and molten crystal. Each movement sent ripples of distortion through reality.
The ground cracked beneath Altharion's boots. "Form ranks!" he barked, voice laced with qi resonance that sent the soldiers snapping into formation.
The first wave came in the form of voidspawn—elongated horrors with too many limbs and faces that screamed without sound. The front line clashed with them in a deafening roar of steel and shadow. Veyra leapt into the air, her spear carving through three at once before she landed, spinning into another strike.
Altharion charged straight for the Tyrant. His qi surged, burning in his veins, every step leaving behind arcs of blinding energy. The beast's gaze locked on him, and for a moment the world seemed to slow.
You cannot destroy what was before your kind even crawled into the light, a voice thundered—not spoken aloud, but inside his skull.
"Watch me," Altharion growled, leaping high into the air. Soulbrand came down in a brilliant arc, slamming into the Tyrant's crystalline chest. A shockwave exploded outward, sending both voidspawn and soldiers sprawling.
But the blade did not pierce through. Instead, cracks formed along the Tyrant's armor-like hide, glowing with an ominous purple light. The beast roared, swiping at him with a claw the size of a siege tower.
He barely evaded, twisting midair before landing on the creature's arm. Using it as a ramp, he ran toward its shoulder, each step punctuated by bursts of qi. But before he could reach its head, the Tyrant's entire body shimmered—and in an instant, it vanished, reappearing directly behind him.
A blast of void energy erupted from its mouth. The beam slammed into the cliffside, carving away entire sections of rock. Soldiers were flung into the rift like ragdolls.
"ALTHARION!" Veyra's voice was sharp with urgency. She hurled her spear, its shaft bursting into golden flames mid-flight. The weapon struck the Tyrant in the neck, staggering it for a moment.
That was all he needed. Altharion's eyes flared with pure determination. He plunged the Soulbrand deep into the wound, channeling every drop of qi he had left. The cracks along the Tyrant's body widened, spilling torrents of energy.
The creature shrieked, not in pain, but in fury. The rift above began to contract violently, pulling everything upward.
"Now!" he roared. The mages in the rear unleashed their combined sealing ritual, weaving bands of light around the collapsing behemoth.
With a final push, Altharion drove the Soulbrand through the Tyrant's core. A blinding explosion consumed the battlefield. When the light faded, the rift was gone.
But so was Altharion.