The warhorns had fallen silent, but the battlefield screamed with chaos once more.
The six Elites of Malrik descended upon Kael and his companions like falling stars, their combined might warping the very air. Each step, each strike, each breath carried power enough to shatter kingdoms.
Kael met the first charge head-on.
The axe-wielding giant roared, his twin blades coming down with enough force to collapse mountains. Kael's blade, glowing with crimson fury, rose to meet it.
The collision unleashed a thunderclap that deafened soldiers for miles.
Shockwaves ripped through the ground, flinging men and beasts alike into the air. Even the dragons circling above faltered in flight, their wings buckling from the impact.
Kael skidded backward, boots carving trenches into the earth, but he did not falter. His crimson eyes burned brighter, his aura flaring like a storm. "You'll need more than strength to bring me down!"
The assassin struck then, materializing from the shadows at Kael's side. His blade sliced for Kael's throat with speed too great for mortal eyes to follow.
But Kael twisted, catching the assassin's wrist mid-strike. His blade flashed, severing the assassin's mask clean in two—revealing a scarred, hollow-eyed face twisted in rage.
"You're quick," Kael growled, "but not quicker than me."
The assassin hissed and vanished once more into the shadows.
Above them, Selara roared as her full dragon form unleashed torrents of sapphire flame at the molten-eyed sorcerer. His staff spun, summoning storms of fire and lightning that clashed against her breath in a storm that tore the skies apart.
Bolts of lightning lanced across Selara's wings, scorching scales, but she powered through, diving with teeth bared. The sorcerer laughed, meeting her fury with equal madness. Their clash was a storm within a storm.
Nyxara fought like a comet, her holy flames burning brighter than ever before. Her opponent, the scythe-wielding woman cloaked in black feathers, moved with haunting grace, her every swing a harvest of death.
"Fall, little flame," the scythe-wielder whispered, her voice like a lullaby for the damned.
Nyxara snarled, wings erupting in golden fire as she dove, her sword blazing. "Then I'll burn the reaper herself!"
Their blades met, and an entire grove withered into ash at the impact.
On the other side, Aurielle danced among two foes—the spear-wielder and the assassin, who reappeared from shadow to strike at her flanks. She spun and twirled with impossible precision, her twin daggers flashing.
"You boys should learn to share," she teased, laughter ringing even as blood dripped from her arm. "One at a time, hm?"
The spear thrust forward, cracking the very air. Aurielle twisted, letting it graze her side before planting a dagger in his ribs. He staggered back, but the assassin was already on her, blade arcing for her throat.
Aurielle ducked low, rolled, and kicked upward, slamming the assassin into the path of his ally's follow-up strike. Both staggered, and she grinned despite the blood on her lips. "Oops. Did I do that?"
But despite her laughter, sweat gleamed on her brow. Every strike was a razor-thin line between life and death.
Kael was everywhere at once. The giant's axes came down again and again, and Kael's blade answered every swing with sparks and thunderclaps. The assassin darted in and out of the shadows, forcing Kael to guard his flanks. From above, the sorcerer unleashed volleys of fire that scorched the battlefield.
Even with his strength, Kael was pressed. Every swing of his sword left his arms screaming, every breath was fire in his lungs. The system's words flashed at the edge of his vision.
[Warning. Vitality reserves dropping. Estimated endurance: 38%]
He ignored it, teeth bared, pushing forward.
This was no ordinary fight.
This was survival.
Selara screamed as a bolt of lightning tore across her chest, scales shattering, blood spraying. She crashed to the ground, the earth quaking beneath her massive form. The sorcerer descended, staff raised for a killing blow.
"Selara!" Kael roared.
But Nyxara streaked in, wings blazing, intercepting the sorcerer with her holy fire. Their clash lit the skies once more, giving Selara a moment to rise, bloodied but unbroken.
Aurielle was bleeding from half a dozen cuts now, her breathing ragged, her laughter faltering. The assassin's blade found her thigh, forcing her to stumble. The spear-wielder pressed his advantage, his weapon thrusting for her heart.
Kael broke free from the giant's assault just in time. His crimson aura flared, his blade slicing through the spear's shaft with a single strike. He grabbed Aurielle by the arm, yanking her back to her feet.
"You're not falling here," he growled.
Her eyes widened for a heartbeat—then she smirked, blood on her teeth. "Then don't let go."
The battlefield had become a storm of gods and demons. The allied armies could only watch, paralyzed by the sheer scale of the clash. Soldiers cowered, commanders prayed, even dragons hesitated to intervene.
And through it all, Malrik stood unmoving.
His arms were folded across his chest, his crimson eyes locked on Kael. Not once did he step forward. Not once did he raise his blade.
For this was not his fight.
This was his test.
Kael could feel it. Every strike, every wound, every scream—it was all under Malrik's gaze. The warlord wasn't here to win a battle. He was here to measure him.
And that truth cut deeper than any blade.
Because Malrik wasn't fighting Kael now.
He was waiting.