The sound of the blow still echoed in the air, a sharp, brutal crack that seemed to reverberate through the bones of Gravewood itself.
Kael stood there, chest heaving, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, vision blurring at the edges. The Ashen Eye's glow had dimmed, but it still pulsed faintly in his pupils—a flickering ember that hadn't yet been snuffed out.
Before him, the Tier 2 staggered, his breath ragged, a dark fury brewing in his eyes.
Kael had done what no one else in this rotting city had dared to dream.
He had hurt him.
Not defeated, not shattered, not yet—but the fracture had deepened, and Kael had proven he could bleed.
The crowd that had gathered in the shadows, once whispering in hushed disbelief, now fell into a silence so heavy it seemed to press on the chest. Eyes wide, breaths held, bodies tensed—waiting.
The woman behind Kael clutched at the wall for support, her gaze fixed on him with something between awe and terror.
Kael could barely feel his own body.
His arms ached like they'd been torn from the sockets. His chest burned with each ragged breath. The bones in his ribs shifted wrong when he inhaled.
But he stood.
He had to stand.
Because the burden hadn't lifted.
It only grew heavier.
The Tier 2 straightened slowly, cracking his neck with a roll of his shoulders. His aura flared again, heavier, darker—a stormcloud forming over the broken city.
Kael felt the pressure spike, grinding into his bones, making the ground tremble beneath his feet.
"You dare," the man hissed, his voice a low, venomous snarl. "You dare to strike me?"
His hand flexed, fingers curling into a claw.
Kael's vision swam. The Ashen Eye flared in his mind, but the threads blurred, slipping like oil between his thoughts. He was burning out—he could feel it, the strain of using power he hadn't fully unlocked tearing through his veins like wildfire.
The Ashen Primordial Bloodline surged in response, but it was a wild, untamed thing, hungry and unrefined. His body wasn't ready. His tier—Tier 1 Low—was too fragile to hold the flood.
Kael's knees buckled.
He almost fell.
Almost.
But the weight of the Xelvor name held him upright, even as his body screamed to collapse.
The Tier 2 stepped forward, his aura rippling in waves.
The ground cracked beneath his feet.
Kael clenched his teeth, forcing the threads of the Ashen Eye into focus, even as blood trickled from his nose.
He had to see.
Had to find the weakness.
But the man's aura was tightening, reinforcing, knitting itself back together like a wound closing too quickly.
The fracture was still there—Kael could feel it—but it was buried deeper now, armored by the man's rising fury.
Kael's mind raced.
He couldn't rely on brute force. Not now. Not yet.
His breath came shallow, wheezing. His pulse thundered in his ears.
The burden pressed down harder—You must not fail.
The Tier 2 lunged, the movement a blur of power. His fist arced toward Kael's skull, heavy enough to crush bone.
Kael couldn't dodge in time. His body wouldn't respond fast enough.
So he did the only thing he could.
He looked.
The Ashen Eye snapped into sharp, painful focus, burning behind his vision like a blade carving into his brain.
He saw it.
Not the man's aura—though that was still there, a storm of threads and power—but the moment.
The weight shift in the man's hips. The tension in his shoulders. The flicker of breath a half-second before the strike landed.
Kael moved.
Not away—in.
He stepped into the strike, tilting just enough that the blow grazed past his ear, the air crackling with the force of it.
He could feel the wind of the fist brushing his skin, the heat of it a breath from death.
And then he was inside the man's guard.
Too close.
Too sudden.
The Tier 2's eyes flared in shock—just for a heartbeat.
Kael struck, not with brute force, but with the precision the Ashen Eye had shown him. His palm landed against the fracture point in the man's aura—a pinpoint of vulnerability hidden beneath layers of power.
A pulse of pressure.
The man's aura shivered.
It didn't shatter. Not yet.
But it wobbled.
Kael felt it in his bones, the crack widening, the threads of power trembling.
The Tier 2 roared, spinning with a backhanded strike that caught Kael across the jaw.
Kael's vision exploded into light and pain. He hit the ground hard, dust choking his lungs, stars bursting behind his eyes.
The weight on his chest was crushing now, like a mountain settling onto him. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. His body screamed at him to stay down.
But he couldn't.
He wouldn't.
Because if he fell here, if he let the weight break him—
The Xelvor name would die.
And the multiverse would forget.
Kael forced himself up on shaking arms. His breath rattled in his chest, blood trickling from his mouth, dripping onto the dirt.
The woman's voice cracked through the ringing in his ears—a desperate, hoarse whisper.
"Stay down! You'll die!"
Kael didn't even look at her.
He stood.
His legs felt like they would snap beneath him, but he rose, one inch at a time, the Ashen Eye flickering like a dying flame—but still there.
The Tier 2's breathing was heavier now, his eyes narrowed in a mix of fury and... caution.
Kael saw it.
The man hadn't expected him to stand.
Hadn't expected him to keep fighting.
The burden on Kael's chest wasn't just a weight.
It was a forge.
It burned him.
But it shaped him, too.
Kael's voice came low, rough as gravel.
"I'm not done."
The Tier 2's aura flared, a snarl twisting his face.
"Then die."
He lunged.
Kael's vision blurred, the threads of the Ashen Eye flickering—
But they held.
Kael moved.
He couldn't win this fight. Not yet.
But he could survive.
And survival, here and now, was enough to light the spark.
The spark of a legacy that would not die.
The battle raged on.
And the multiverse watched.