The silver boundary did not fade.
It thinned.
Like breath on glass slowly disappearing.
Kael felt it receding from the inside.
Not collapsing.
Draining.
Beyond the reclaimed circle, the demon army did not rush.
They reorganized with terrifying calm.
New ranks stepped forward—heavier infantry, thicker armor, longer spears humming with reinforced void sigils. Artillery platforms were repositioned farther back, angled not at the boundary itself—
—but at the sky above it.
Sereth stood elevated now, no longer distant enough to ignore. Cloaked in layered shadow and crimson undertones, he did not descend fully onto the battlefield.
He watched like a judge.
Tharion steadied Kael as the silver current around him flickered.
"You gave too much," Tharion said quietly.
Kael's breathing was uneven now.
"I gave what I had."
Malenie stood just outside arm's reach, blade lowered but ready. Blood traced down her arm, but her stance remained unbroken.
Maelor wiped blood from his mouth and forced one final stabilizing sigil into the ground beneath them. It flickered weakly.
Lira's hands trembled as she sealed the worst of the wounded.
The sixty—
Now barely thirty standing.
The drums resumed.
But slower.
Heavier.
The demon army advanced again.
Not charging.
Encircling.
This time, they did not compress inward immediately. They spread wide, forming a massive ring beyond the weakening silver boundary.
Layer upon layer.
Five ranks deep.
Ten.
More behind.
Kael realized what they were doing.
They were sealing the horizon.
The boundary flickered again.
Void artillery fired—not at the structure, but upward into the sky. The projectiles detonated high above, unraveling cloud cover into swirling distortions that darkened the field unnaturally.
Dusk fell early.
Shadows lengthened.
The silver light looked dimmer against it.
Nyxara returned to formation beside the warlord. The void-general raised both hands, beginning a wide-area distortion rather than a focused strike.
This was not an attempt to break the boundary in one blow.
This was containment.
Sereth's voice carried again.
"You burn brighter than predicted."
A pause.
"But stars exhaust themselves."
The demon ring began stepping inward.
Slow.
Measured.
The silver boundary shrank another meter.
Kael forced himself upright without Tharion's support.
His legs trembled.
He stepped forward anyway.
The silver dragon within him was no longer roaring.
It was breathing heavily.
As he was.
The warlord advanced again to the edge of the boundary.
His armor was fractured, but reforged in places with denser void plating.
He struck.
The boundary rippled violently.
This time—
It cracked.
Hairline fractures of darkness spidered across its surface.
Maelor gasped.
"I can't reinforce that again."
Nyxara extended a hand and whispered something in a language older than the battlefield.
The cracks widened.
The void-general's distortion pressed down from above, compressing the air like a ceiling lowering slowly.
Kael stepped forward to meet the pressure.
Silver light flared—
But weaker.
He pushed anyway.
The warlord struck again.
A second fracture split the boundary.
The demon infantry surged in synchronized step.
One rank inside.
Two.
Spears pierced through the thinning barrier.
One grazed Lira's side.
Another struck a soldier behind Malenie.
The silver field collapsed fully.
Not shattered.
Snuffed.
The demon army rushed inward from every direction.
Chaos erupted instantly.
Malenie cut down the first wave, white flame flashing in brutal arcs.
Tharion roared and surged forward despite torn wings, golden fire erupting in desperate bursts.
Maelor unleashed the last of his arcane reserves in a shockwave that flattened a full rank of infantry—
—and left him on his knees afterward.
Kael tried to summon the silver column again.
Nothing came.
Only sparks.
The warlord closed in.
This time, no barrier stood between them.
The warlord's fist collided with Kael's chest before he could react.
Silver scales shattered outward.
Kael was thrown across the battlefield, skidding through shattered stone and ash.
He tried to rise—
—and collapsed.
His limbs felt distant.
Heavy.
The silver dragon inside him felt… quiet again.
Not distant.
Tired.
The demon ring closed around him completely.
Ranks layered.
Spears leveled.
Shields locked.
He was alone at the center.
He could see Malenie fighting through waves, trying to reach him.
See Tharion tearing into infantry despite bleeding light.
See Lira dragging Maelor back from being overrun.
But they were too far.
Too surrounded.
The warlord approached slowly.
Not rushed.
Not enraged.
Inevitable.
The sky above had turned fully dark from void distortion.
Ash fell like black snow.
Kael pushed himself to his knees.
His sword did not return.
His aura did not ignite.
He could barely feel his hands.
The warlord stopped three steps away.
Around them, the demon army formed a perfect circle.
Silent.
Waiting.
Sereth descended slightly closer, still beyond direct engagement, but near enough now that his presence pressed against Kael's senses like cold iron.
"You have endured," Sereth said.
"Beyond expectation."
Kael lifted his head slowly.
Blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
The silver dragon did not answer when he reached for it.
Not because it was gone.
Because there was nothing left to draw.
The warlord raised his void-forged fist.
The circle tightened.
Spears angled inward toward Kael's throat.
Malenie screamed his name from somewhere beyond the ranks.
Tharion roared—but was dragged down by sheer numbers.
Kael's vision blurred.
The silver light along his skin dimmed.
Faded.
His sword did not form.
His faith felt thin.
He looked up at the darkened sky.
"So this is where my name ends."
Not shouted.
Not defiant.
Quiet.
The warlord's fist began to descend.
And the demon army leaned in to witness it.
The Falling Edge had reached its lowest point.