Darius's voice grew louder, echoing all around.
"Why struggle, when you could have perfection? I lived like a king while you crawl through mud, always fighting to survive. Let me take control, and I'll make you unstoppable."
Lumberling gritted his teeth. The pressure inside his head was unbearable, like two worlds trying to crush each other. His vision wavered, flashes of the Legate's past flickering again, armies bowing, cities burning, blood raining across battlefields.
For a moment, Darius's presence filled everything. His face, his voice, his strength, it all pressed down, trying to overwrite him.
But then Lumberling lifted his gaze and smirked.
"Heh. Dream on, old man."
The air cracked as his will surged.
A blinding flash tore through the white void, and suddenly, both of them stood on solid ground, a field of shattered stone floating in endless space. Their eyes met.
Two spears appeared in their hands, as if the void itself answered their intent.
