The heavy doors groaned as they settled on their hinges. Silus stood in the center of the hall, his dark-gold aura flickering like a dying star.
"Welcome, young Prince," Mordred sneered, his iron armor rattling as he stepped forward. "You've made a lot of noise for a ghost."
Silus didn't even look at him. His black eyes were locked on the throne. "I am here for the head of the Demon Lord and the heart of Elena. Move, lab rat, or I'll erase you before you can blink."
Mordred's face contorted with rage. He turned to Augustus. "My Lord, let me break him. I will make him beg to be your slave."
The Demon Lord leaned back, a cruel glint in his eyes. Mordred is the strongest of my breed, he thought. He cannot lose. "Go," Augustus commanded. "But do not kill him yet. I want to see him crawl to my feet."
Mordred leaped from the dais, the impact shattering the marble floor. "Your journey ends here!" He roared, thrusting his hand into the earth. "RISE, RAGNAROK!" From a crack in the ground, a jagged, pulsing blade emerged, screaming as it sucked the very mana out of the air. Before the dust could settle, Mordred vanished. "CHRONOS OVERDRIVE!" Time froze. The world turned gray. Mordred smiled, walking calmly toward the frozen Silus. He swung Ragnarok at Silus's neck, the blade cutting through the air—but as it connected, Silus's body turned into a shadow.
"Too slow," a voice whispered in Mordred's ear.
Time snapped back into motion. Silus appeared behind Mordred, Death already mid-swing. SHINK. Mordred was sliced perfectly in half. Blood sprayed the pillars, but the pieces pulled back together instantly, the Iron Knight's regenerative power knitting him back into one piece.
"You can't kill what won't stay dead!" Mordred laughed, rushing back in.
The two collided. Each clash of Death and Ragnarok sent shockwaves that leveled the castle walls and shook the very foundations of the mountain. Silus moved like a blur of darkness, shredding Mordred into pieces again and again, but the Knight kept reforming, his madness growing with every death.
"This is getting annoying," Silus muttered, his eyes narrowing. "If your body won't die, I'll feed your soul to the abyss."
Silus slammed his palm into Mordred's chest. "VOID EATER: DARK PINNACLE."
The throne room vanished. Mordred found himself in a world of absolute, suffocating silence. There was no light, no sound, and no exit. In the total darkness, Mordred saw every person he had ever slaughtered, their hands reaching out to pull him into the void. The Knight's mind snapped. He began to scream, his own hands tearing at his throat until he clawed his own life away.
In the real world, Mordred's body slumped to the floor, a hollow shell.
Silus stepped over the corpse, his boots clicking on the stone. He looked up at the throne, ready to finish Augustus. But then, the shadows behind the Demon Lord shifted.
A woman stepped out. Her hair flowed like silk, and her eyes held a terrifying, ancient power. Elena. She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty. She just looked at Silus and smiled—the same smile she had given him eight years ago.