The commander's hammer slammed into the ground, chains whipping out like barbed serpents. The shockwave tore a crater into the field, dirt and stone blasting upward in a violent arc. Kael leapt aside, rolling, boots skidding through churned earth. The black lightning along his blade hissed, hungry to strike.
The commander reeled the chains back with a thunderous pull, warhammer spinning. "You'll break long before my iron does!"
Kael lunged in response, blade flashing. Every strike was a test of wills—lightning-fast precision against brute, crushing power. Sparks rained with each collision, blinding the air between them.
Yet Kael felt it: the commander was no longer holding back. His strength pressed heavier, each swing threatening to tear Kael's sword from his hands. His arms ached with the strain, but he bared his teeth and pressed harder.
Behind them, the companions fought for survival.
Two of the commander's black-plated guards crashed into Darian, their axes like falling mountains. He staggered back, shield cracking under the relentless weight. Still, he held. Blood streamed from a cut on his brow, but his voice thundered back with defiance.
"You'll not touch him while I still draw breath!"
Lyra slipped behind one of the armored giants, twin daggers stabbing between plates. The warrior snarled, backhanding her with bone-crushing force. She hit the ground, rolled, spat blood—and laughed. "You swing like a drunk mule." She darted in again, faster, a blur of steel in the shadows of the giants.
Selene knelt farther back, hands weaving arcane patterns. Her chants rose into a scream as glowing sigils tore open the ground. Spears of crystalline ice erupted beneath the guards, piercing armor, locking joints. But the sheer force of the enemy shattered half the spellwork. Sweat poured down her temples as she fought to keep control.
Kael heard them all—their struggles, their cries—and his fury sharpened. His blade screamed with lightning as he twisted around the hammer, slashing across the commander's chest. Armor cracked; sparks and blood flew.
The commander grunted but didn't falter. He swung the hammer in a brutal arc that would have flattened a house. Kael slid beneath the blow, blade carving upward. For an instant, black lightning split the night sky—
And still the commander stood. His armor glowed red-hot from the impact, but his laugh boomed through the battlefield.
"Good! Break me if you can, boy!"
The air around them burned, the clash dragging every soul into its storm. For the companions, survival hung by a thread. For Kael, it was the storm itself.