The earth trembles as Ynol and Felix clash, their battle tearing the very fabric of reality. "YOU'RE THE LAST OF ZEUS'S BLOODLINE!" Ynol roars, his voice splitting the air like thunder. Felix's eyes flash with divine light. "And what if I am?" he snarls back. Ynol's face twists with ancient hatred. "Then I'll do what Titans have dreamed of for millennia—ERADICATE you!" His fist crashes down with such force that time itself fractures. Felix, veins glowing with power, freezes the moment—barely containing the explosion that would have obliterated Sector 7. "I'm not even using a TENTH of my power," Felix hisses through clenched teeth. "Not my problem," Ynol spits back. "That's why SHE is DEAD." The words hit Ynol like a physical blow. As Felix shields Dex, Ynol's primal scream nearly shatters the barrier, his eyes burning with rage. "YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS GODSPAWN THINK YOU OWN EVERYTHING! GOOD—NOW I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT REAL POWER IS!"
Every fiber of Ynol's being screamed as the change took hold. The air rippled with heat, with pressure, with the scent of ancient blood reawakened. His feet gouged troughs in the diamond-hard floor, and from the deepest marrow of his bones, a heritage unspoken and unloved erupted in a geyser of crimson force. It was not just a release of power but a lifetime's damnation, the accumulated agony of countless generations of titans denied and imprisoned, now given permission—no, compulsion—to spill loose. Ynol's veins flared into a network of burning cinders visible beneath his ashen skin, and the very architecture of Sector 7, a forest that was meant to be eternal, began to buckle under the pressure of history's vengeance.Felix saw it even as his own calculations raced: the readings on his visors, the warning in his mind, all said the same thing—Ynol was surging beyond the boundary even the Overseers considered impossible. No being had ever survived that much raw "titan vector" without combusting. Except, apparently, this one. Felix had a moment for regret—he knew he'd goaded the man past the point of reason—but he also knew it was the only way to bring out the truth. Already, the ground quaked, the air howled as if the world itself rejected Ynol's presence.Ynol's voice split the dome, his words clawing at Felix's skull: "I AM YNOL! THE TITAN WHO BATHED HEAVEN IN BLOOD FOR MY BELOVED! I WILL NOT BE ERASED. YOUR PATHETIC ZEUS-TAINTED VEINS SHAME THE MEMORY OF TRUE GODS!" Every syllable seemed to multiply, echoing in all directions, and Felix felt reverberations not just in his ears but in his teeth, in his spine, as if some part of him recognized the titan's claim and recoiled in ancestral terror.Then Ynol moved—a blur, a meteor, a red comet. He struck at Felix, a blow so massive that Felix barely managed to phase-step to the left, even with time-dilation maxed. The air where he'd been was instantly a vacuum, and the pressure wave that followed shattered every pane of glass in a kilometer radius. Ynol's gauntlet traced a line of red through the city's underbelly, igniting everything flammable, and Felix realized if he didn't end it now, Sector #F03121232107 would fall just like #F03121232123He gritted his teeth and dropped all safety protocols. "Thirty percent, then," he whispered, and his own body responded: first in agony, then in ecstasy, as the blood of gods congealed into lightning and exploded outward. His uniform vaporized; raw energy wrapped him in a toga of plasma. The sky above responded with thunder and the hard, blue light of an artificial aurora. Felix's eyes became orbs of storm, his every nerve a conduit for rage and memory.Ynol only grinned, teeth black and red. "At last, a challenge," he said, and launched himself again, this time not for death but for spectacle. His fists, each the size of a tank, collided with Felix's arms as the two met mid-air, suspended by nothing but the counterforce of their own violence. Each blow was a sermon: their bodies spoke dialects of pain and hope, their movements wrote equations of hatred and grief. Felix countered with pure speed, fractalizing his form into a dozen splinters, each taking a hit and returning ten. Ynol's strategy was simple—overwhelm, overrun, overwrite.But Felix did not yield. He split the battlefield, bending light and time so that every attack Ynol made appeared already countered. He conjured shields from his own blood, turned the rivers of Sector 7 into forest of steam, then into prisms, then into hammers. Ynol absorbed the punishment, laughing, always laughing, until Felix realized that pain was not a deterrent but the titan's fuel. With every strike, every wound, Ynol only became more terrifying.The city dissolved beneath them, its structures torn apart and atomized to make room for the next round of violence. The ground was slag, the sky a nebula of thunderheads and falling stars. Still, neither could gain the upper hand. It was not a matter of strength; it was a matter of will, of who could outlast the other's madness.Felix finally understood. This was not war. This was confession, an offering of all the sorrow both men had carried for eons. As their fists met again, the two locked eyes—one blue, one red—and for an instant, the universe held its breath.The battle did not slow. It sped up, the exchanges coming faster, brighter, louder, until time itself struggled to contain them.And still, each time Felix thought he had reached the limit, Ynol found more to give, as if his suffering was infinite. The two titans whirled, collided, and the Sector's barrier perimeter melted away. Even now, as the debris rained and the Sector burned, the only thing that mattered was who would break first—god, or titan.Felix drove himself harder, the scream of his own heart loud in his ears: Thirty -one percent , Thirty two percent.... Thunder cracked, the sky blackening, and from the clouds emerged the ugly face of history, demanding justice.Ynol, undeterred, took a blow that should have killed anything ever born, and spat lightning back in Felix's face. His words were a curse, a prayer, and a memory all at once. "I will not die until you take your words back"Felix grinned, blood streaming from his mouth, and for the first time in centuries, felt alive. "Then you better try harder," he said, and the two vanished into a singularity of violence, their power warping the very laws of the reality.They fought on—through fire, through darkness, through the history of their own failures—until neither could remember why they hated each other, only that they must keep fighting, if only for the memory of what they'd lost.Each blow hammered into the void, echoing through ages, until the wreckage of the city itself seemed to grow tired, the dust settling, the air returning to silence.When it was over, there was one winner. Only one broken men, still standing, locked in combat, each refusing to be the one to kneel.For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the rest of the world forgotten, and in that stillness came a strange peace—the peace of warriors who know their equal.Then, as if on cue, Ynol collapsed, the exhaustion of centuries overtaking him in a single heartbeat.Their battle would become legend, a reminder that even gods and titans could bleed, could suffer, could love—and could lose.As the darkness claimed Ynol, He laughed for one last time before remember the cruel yet loved past.