The banners of the Starhold burned.
What was once the Shattered Kingdoms' proudest fortress now trembled under thunder and steel. Its spires, carved from silverstone and etched with Sovereign runes, cracked like brittle bone as fire rained from the skies.
The Sovereign courts had moved beyond words.
Kael stood at the vanguard, his cloak torn, crimson aura spilling like stormfire around him. Ashrend pulsed in his grip, eager, alive—its blade whispering with hunger as though it too sensed what was coming. Behind him, Lyra notched her bowstring, her breath steady despite the chaos, while Darric's shield bore fresh scars from the opening clash.
Across the broken bridge leading into the Starhold stood their enemies: factions of the courts arrayed in splintered allegiances. Gleaming warlords, veiled sorcerers, and zealots draped in fractured banners—all screaming one truth.
The boy with the Mark could not be allowed to rise.
Kael exhaled once. Then he surged forward.
The first line of soldiers broke beneath his blade. Ashrend sang, carving through pikes and armor alike, each strike wrapped in scarlet lightning. With every slash, Kael named his cuts, voice like judgment:
"Crimson Rend."
"Severing Flame."
"Eclipse Arc."
The battlefield answered. Soldiers fell in halves, weapons turned molten in their hands, the air splitting beneath each declaration. His companions fought at his flanks, their bond seamless—Lyra's arrows piercing gaps in armor Kael left open, Darric's shield smashing aside spears that threatened his stride.
But this was no ordinary clash.
At the Starhold's gate, a towering figure descended. His armor was black iron, riveted with Sovereign glyphs, his helm shaped like a maw. A great halberd glimmered in his hands, runes pulsing violet.
The Iron-Sovereign had come.
The courts fell silent in awe. Even Kael felt the air grow heavier, as if the sky itself bent under this man's presence.
The Sovereign's voice cut through the chaos, deep and merciless.
"You carry a brand that should not exist, boy. I will unmake it myself."
Kael tightened his grip. "Then come and try."
The clash shook the fortress. The halberd met Ashrend in a storm of sparks that lit the battlefield like a second sun. Each strike shattered stone, each block cracked the earth. The Iron-Sovereign moved with precision, his weapon sweeping like an executioner's guillotine, while Kael answered with bursts of crimson speed—vanishing, reappearing, carving through gaps with lightning arcs.
Around them, their armies warred. The courts spilled blood for their factions; companions bled to hold the line. Yet the duel at the center was all that mattered.
The Iron-Sovereign's halberd came down. Kael braced, Ashrend raised high—red aura clashing against the Sovereign's void-forged steel. The impact rattled his bones, forced him to one knee. The Sovereign pressed down, voice cold.
"You are not Sovereign. You are corruption given flesh."
Kael's chest burned with the Mark. He growled, forcing his strength upward.
"No. I am what you fear."
With a surge of will, he flared into Sovereign Wrath—scarlet lightning laced with threads of void, Ashrend blazing brighter than ever before. He pushed back, the halberd recoiling as the Sovereign's grip faltered for the first time.
The courts gasped. The battle shifted.
The Starhold itself began to crumble.