Thunder Falls, Gravity Cracks
The ground cracked beneath their feet as Shinryu and Wu Feng clashed again, the impact rippling across the battlefield like a thunderclap. Shinryu's gravitational field expanded in bursts, creating pockets of crushing force, but Wu Feng's fortified body barreled through them with brutal precision.
Blow for blow, the two danced the line between technique and raw might. Shinryu weaved through strikes, using gravity to bend his trajectory unnaturally—his movements fluid, graceful, and defiant of physics. Wu Feng responded with sharp, grounded power, his armor flaring with each blow, his fists like iron meteors.
At first, it was an even match—one man a storm of gravity and speed, the other an immovable fortress of flesh and steel.
But it couldn't last.
Shinryu felt it in the drag of his limbs, the crushing weight of his own field pressing back. His gauntlets, once glowing with focused intensity, flickered between bursts. Raikai's earlier warning echoed in his mind: "That field might not be enough."
He had been right.
Their last battle had drained them both, but Shinryu had pushed deeper, compressing gravity and twisting movement, taking every risk against a powerhouse like Wu Feng.
And Wu Feng saw it.
"You're slipping," the general said coolly, launching a barrage of blows. "All that brilliance—undone by fatigue."
Shinryu ducked one strike and aimed a clawed uppercut, only to be hammered by a crushing elbow to his shoulder. He staggered, forced to regain his footing mid-step.
Wu Feng didn't stop. He advanced like a juggernaut, each punch thunderous, each motion backed by Death Arms fused seamlessly to his hardened physique. His black armor pulsed with power, each impact reinforced by his cultivation.
Shinryu retaliated with a sweeping slash, gravity surging with it, but Wu Feng endured the blow and countered with a brutal knee to the gut.
Crack.
Shinryu spat blood and skidded back, his claw gauntlets dragging trenches into the earth. His breath came in ragged bursts. The gravitational field around him stuttered, unstable and fading.
Wu Feng straightened. "You rely too much on your field. Once your body breaks, the rest collapses."
Shinryu said nothing. He steadied himself with a trembling hand. His Death Arms whispered again:
Give in. Let go. Unleash us.
But that path meant losing control. He knew that too well.
Still—he surged forward, defiant.
He twisted his momentum with gravity and slashed across Wu Feng's flank, denting the armor and forcing him back. But Shinryu's follow-up was sluggish. Wu Feng countered with a crushing blow to the ribs that hurled him across the field.
Shinryu tumbled and rolled, gasping, blood staining his jaw. Wu Feng stepped forward, unhurried.
"I'll give you this," he said, raising a hand. "Your control is remarkable. Your restraint—admirable."
His eyes narrowed.
"But against me, at your limit? Restraint is your downfall."
Shinryu rose slowly, blood trailing down his lip. His gauntlets still pulsed, his aura still clung to him. But he was losing.
Wu Feng prepared the finishing blow.
Far across the battlefield, Raikai's storm raged.
Lightning surged through his veins as his Death Arms flared with fury. The earth was scorched, broken, littered with fallen bodies. Only two lieutenants remained.
Raikai was bleeding. His chest heaved. He had traded wounds recklessly for speed, tearing through the enemy.
One final opponent raised his staff, his hands shaking.
Raikai vanished in a flash of thunder.
He reappeared behind the man—his scythes buried deep.
Silence followed.
He collapsed to one knee, barely catching himself.
But above him, the storm still churned.
That's when he felt it—the tremor in the air. A collapsing field. A dying rhythm.
Shinryu was about to fall.
Raikai's expression hardened.
"I won't make it in time…"
But Shinryu didn't fall.
Not yet.
His body shook beneath Wu Feng's relentless assault. Every breath was fire. Every step heavier. But then—
He felt it.
Lightning.
Raikai.
Shinryu's eyes opened wide, and everything inside him snapped.
His Death Arms unleashed.
In a burst of pale-blue light, his gravitational field collapsed inward, then exploded outward. His clawed gauntlets extended, sharper, more radiant. Etched runes ignited. A pillar of force erupted around him, distorting space.
Wu Feng reeled from the sudden pressure. His armor groaned beneath the crushing force.
"Finally," the general muttered. "You show me your truth."
Wu Feng's own power surged—dark qi flaring. His armor pulsed as his cultivation hit its peak. Death Arms and body became one. His aura thickened, brutal and vast.
With a roar, he tore through the gravity lock, unstoppable.
But before he could strike—
The heavens answered.
Lightning split the sky.
And from above—
Raikai descended.
He merged with a bolt of divine lightning, his voice ripping the sky.
"Dragon Thunderclap!"
He became a living spear of stormlight, both scythes fused, his form blazing like the wrath of heaven.
Wu Feng reacted fast, raising his arms to summon his strongest barrier. A dense wall of qi surrounded him, forged from decades of tempered cultivation.
But it wasn't enough.
Because—
Shinryu moved.
His claw struck the air—not Wu Feng, but space itself.
Gravity compressed at a single microscopic point on the barrier—cracking it.
Raikai struck.
BOOM.
The scythe cleaved through the weakened barrier—then through Wu Feng.
There was no scream.
Only silence.
Wu Feng stood for a heartbeat—then fell.
Split clean down the middle.
The battlefield stilled.
The storm faded.
Raikai landed, knees buckling, his body scorched and trembling.
Shinryu dropped to one knee nearby, his gauntlets flickering, gravity settling.
The general had fallen.
The storm had passed.