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Chapter 12 - BAT KING COLLAPSE!

γ€˜π‚π‡π€ππ“π„π‘ πŸπŸ—: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓-πŠπˆππ† 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 π–πˆπ“π‡ ππˆπ’π’π€ππ„π‘γ€™

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⟦The battlefield: a broken void between universes⟧

Fragments of planets spun in silence. Stars flickered like dying candles. The Monkey King had already darted away toward his own battle with Doomsday Meteorite, but hereβ€”this space belonged to two warriors alone.

γ€Žπ˜Ύπ™‘π™šπ™–π™«π™žπ™£π™œ π™ˆπ™šπ™©π™šπ™€π™§π™žπ™©π™šγ€

β¦…So you are the infamous Bat-King. They say your wings once blackened a million suns.⦆

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…And they say you are a blade-child who hides behind speed. Let us see which tale survives tonight.⦆

〔𝒐𝒏𝒆 π’…π’‚π’“π’Œ π’”π’Šπ’π’†π’π’„π’† 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅—𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 π’•π’‰π’†π’š π’π’–π’π’ˆπ’†π’….〕

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⟦First Clash⟧

Their collision detonated the void. Cleaving's twin forearm blades tore arcs of silver across reality, each swing carving fissures into the cosmos. Xorath countered by igniting his signature spell:

π–‡π–Žπ–˜π–˜π–†π–•π–Šπ–—β€”π–’π–”π–‘π–™π–Šπ–“ π–‡π–‘π–†π–‰π–Šπ–˜.

From his arms erupted burning, magma-forged sabers, their edges dripping molten fire that hissed when it met the cold void. His wings blazed open, each flap raining sparks of destruction.

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…Bissaper shall decide if you live.⦆

Their swords screamed against each other, blade to blade, sparks streaming like rivers of fire.

Cleaving darted left, right, aboveβ€”his movements impossible, every slash timed to strike between Xorath's swings. But Xorath was no novice. He parried with molten fury, each block unleashing shockwaves that cracked asteroids into dust.

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⟦The Dance of Blades⟧

Cleaving's voice was calm, his strikes relentless.

γ€Žπ˜Ύπ™‘π™šπ™–π™«π™žπ™£π™œγ€

β¦…Predictable. You swing wideβ€”your rage slows you.⦆

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…My rage burns. And fire always consumes.⦆

Xorath spun mid-air, both molten sabers whirling in a storm. His Bissaper spell extended them into long magma-whips, each slash carving craters into space itself. Cleaving darted between them, body twisting like liquid steel, and countered with sharp precision cuts.

Their fight was more than strengthβ€”it was art. Every stroke of Cleaving's silver blades was surgical. Every roar of Xorath's Bissaper was raw destruction.

〔𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’—π’π’Šπ’… 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒅 π’˜π’Šπ’•π’‰ π’†π’™π’‘π’π’π’”π’Šπ’π’π’” 𝒂𝒔 π’•π’‰π’†π’Šπ’“ 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉 π’ˆπ’“π’†π’˜ π’‡π’Šπ’†π’“π’„π’†π’“.〕

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⟦Xorath presses the assault⟧

Xorath roared, wings igniting brighter.

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…Bissaperβ€”Cascading Storm!⦆

π–™π–π–Š π–’π–”π–‘π–™π–Šπ–“ π–‡π–‘π–†π–‰π–Šπ–˜ π–˜π–•π–‘π–Žπ–™ π–Žπ–“π–™π–” π–™π–Šπ–“, π–˜π–œπ–Žπ–—π–‘π–Žπ–“π–Œ π–†π–—π–”π–šπ–“π–‰ π–π–Žπ–’ π–‘π–Žπ–π–Š 𝖆 π–π–šπ–“π–Œπ–—π–ž π–’π–Šπ–™π–Šπ–”π–— π–˜π–™π–”π–—π–’.

Each molten weapon darted independently, slashing from every direction. Cleaving was forced back, blades ringing as he deflected the onslaught. Sparks blinded, magma dripped across his armor, sizzling.

Still, Cleaving grinned.

γ€Žπ˜Ύπ™‘π™šπ™–π™«π™žπ™£π™œγ€

β¦…Better. Show me why galaxies once screamed your name.⦆

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⟦Cleaving turns the tide⟧

In a blur, Cleaving vanished. His form flickered faster than Xorath's eyes could follow. The molten blades struck empty space.

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…Whatβ€”?⦆

A silver flash. Pain ripped across his side. One of Cleaving's blades had pierced through his armor.

〔𝒙𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅, π’‡π’Šπ’“π’† π’ƒπ’–π’“π’”π’•π’Šπ’π’ˆ π’‡π’“π’π’Ž π’‰π’Šπ’” π’˜π’π’–π’π’….〕

γ€Žπ˜Ύπ™‘π™šπ™–π™«π™žπ™£π™œγ€

β¦…Too slow, Bat-King. Rage blinds you. Precision ends you.⦆

Xorath staggered, molten blood dripping into the void, burning holes into passing meteors.

But the Bat-King laughed.

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…Yes… hurt me more. Only pain sharpens my claws.⦆

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⟦The Battle Heats⟧

Xorath's wings ignited, a blazing inferno flooding the void.

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…Bissaperβ€”Infernal Collapse!⦆

π–π–Žπ–˜ π–’π–”π–‘π–™π–Šπ–“ π–‡π–‘π–†π–‰π–Šπ–˜ π–Šπ–π–•π–†π–“π–‰π–Šπ–‰, π–™π–šπ–—π–“π–Žπ–“π–Œ π–Žπ–“π–™π–” π–Œπ–Žπ–†π–“π–™ π–ˆπ–—π–Šπ–˜π–ˆπ–Šπ–“π–™π–˜ 𝖔𝖋 𝖑𝖆𝖛𝖆, π–˜π–‘π–†π–˜π–π–Žπ–“π–Œ π–œπ–Žπ–™π– π–Šπ–“π–”π–šπ–Œπ– π–‹π–”π–—π–ˆπ–Š 𝖙𝖔 π–˜π–•π–‘π–Žπ–™ π–œπ–π–”π–‘π–Š π–˜π–™π–†π–—π–˜.

Cleaving fought hard, but each block rattled his frame. Sparks seared his flesh. His blades moved with liquid perfection, but the storm of molten sabers pressed him harder, faster.

〔𝒙𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉 π’˜π’‚π’” π’‡π’Šπ’π’…π’Šπ’π’ˆ π’‰π’Šπ’” π’“π’‰π’šπ’•π’‰π’Ž π’‚π’ˆπ’‚π’Šπ’, 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒆 π’ƒπ’–π’Šπ’π’• 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒔.〕

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⟦But Cleaving adapts⟧

Suddenlyβ€”his silver blades began glowing brighter. He locked eyes with Xorath.

γ€Žπ˜Ύπ™‘π™šπ™–π™«π™žπ™£π™œγ€

β¦…You fight with storms. I fight with silence.⦆

In one movement, his body flickered between molten arcs. His blades struck faster than soundβ€”clean, exact. Each slash cut through a molten saber, shattering the Bissaper constructs one by one.

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…Impossibleβ€”!⦆

Another strike. His wing shredded. Blood spilled, fire dimmed.

〔𝒙𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒅, π’‚π’π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š π’˜π’†π’‚π’Œπ’†π’π’Šπ’π’ˆ.〕

γ€Žπ˜Ύπ™‘π™šπ™–π™«π™žπ™£π™œγ€

β¦…Bat-King… your fire is fading.⦆

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⟦The cliffhanger⟧

Still, Xorath stood tall, battered, wings shredded, molten sabers flickering like dying torches.

γ€Žπ™“π™€π™§π™–π™©π™γ€

β¦…Fade? No. I burn brightest… at the edge of death.⦆

He raised both molten sabers, his Bissaper surging one last time, wings blazing against the void. Cleaving lowered his stance, silver blades humming like pure death.

Their final clash drew nearβ€”sword to sword, molten flame against cutting light.

〔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐 π’Šπ’• 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒕-π’Œπ’Šπ’π’ˆ π’‚π’π’“π’†π’‚π’…π’š π’ƒπ’π’†π’†π’…π’Šπ’π’ˆ, π’šπ’†π’• π’“π’†π’‡π’–π’”π’Šπ’π’ˆ 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍—𝒕𝒉𝒆 π’‡π’Šπ’ˆπ’‰π’• π’„π’π’π’•π’Šπ’π’–π’†π’”β€¦γ€•

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