The battlefield trembled as Sid's sword blazed to life, the flames licking against the black dome Zoltan had summoned. The air itself seemed to bend under the heat, cracks of light splintering through the oppressive darkness.
Across from him, Zoltan raised his hand, and a sickly green mist curled into existence. The stench of venom filled the air, sharp enough to make soldiers gag from afar. His eyes glowed with poisonous intent.
"Light and flame…" Zoltan said with a grin. "Your bloodline truly is monstrous. But poison seeps through even the brightest fire. Let's see which of us endures."
Sid didn't answer. He lunged forward, his sword cutting through the air like a comet, the blue flames roaring to life as he aimed for Zoltan's chest.
Zoltan sidestepped with unnatural speed, his cloak tearing as the blade grazed past. With a flick of his fingers, he unleashed a spray of venomous darts. Each drop carried enough poison to rot steel, but Sid spun his sword, creating a blazing shield of light and flame that burned them into harmless smoke.
The ground quaked as the two clashed again, light and poison colliding in a storm of energy.
Sid pressed the attack, each swing of his sword carving arcs of fire into the battlefield. Zoltan countered with venomous whips that hissed and lashed, corroding the stone beneath their feet. Wherever his poison touched, the earth melted into bubbling pits.
"You fight with anger," Zoltan taunted, his voice echoing within the dome. "But anger burns out fast."
Sid grit his teeth. He raised his free hand, summoning spears of light that shot down like divine arrows. Zoltan raised a wall of green miasma, but the spears pierced through, burning holes in the mist. The clash lit up the dome like fireworks.
But Zoltan wasn't finished. He slammed his palm into the ground, and veins of poison spread like roots, racing toward Sid. The earth beneath him glowed sickly green, ready to explode.
Sid leapt into the air just as the ground erupted, a geyser of venom shooting upward. His armor sizzled as droplets grazed him, the poison trying to eat into his flames. He countered with a burst of light, the brilliance cleansing the toxin before it could sink deeper.
Zoltan laughed. "Clever. But you can't cleanse everything."
Sid descended, his blade trailing fire like a falling star. The impact shook the battlefield, blue flames spreading in a wide circle, forcing Zoltan back. Soldiers watching from the edge of the dome gasped as the firestorm lit up the darkness, painting Sid as a blazing warrior against the tide of venom.
Yet Zoltan only grinned wider. He stretched out his arms, and his aura thickened, filling the dome with poison so dense that even breathing stung. His skin shimmered with scales of emerald toxin, his body mutating under the full release of his Vitral.
"Your light shines bright," he said. "But in the end, every flame needs air to live. And I will choke you out."
Sid's grip tightened on his sword. His chest burned from the poison in the air, his limbs growing heavy, but his resolve didn't falter. He slammed his sword into the ground, and a pillar of light burst upward, clearing the miasma for a brief moment.
"I don't need air," Sid said, his eyes blazing with determination. "I only need will."
He dashed forward again, his sword blazing brighter than before, blue flames devouring the poison in their path.
Zoltan met him head-on, claws of venom forming around his hands.
The two Soul Loomers clashed in the center of the dome, light and poison colliding in a storm that shook the island itself. Sparks, flames, and venom exploded outward, the very air screaming as their powers battled for dominance.
Outside the dome where Sid and Zoltan clashed, chaos had swallowed the battlefield. The clan warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons ready, as the enemy forces surged forward like a black tide.
The clang of steel rang out as the first wave struck. Arrows cut through the sky, some bursting into poison mist, others glowing with strange enchantments. Shields rose, but not all were fast enough. A young warrior fell with an arrow through his chest, his body collapsing beside his comrades.
"Hold the line!" roared one of the elders, his voice thundering above the chaos. His spear shimmered with a golden weave of Vitral as he drove it into an enemy soldier, the force splitting the man in half.
The clan fought fiercely, their training and bond giving them strength. Flames, water, and earth Vitrals flared across the field as the soldiers unleashed everything they had. A warrior summoned walls of stone, blocking an incoming flood of poison arrows. Another released torrents of flame, burning through enemy ranks.
But the enemy was relentless. Their soldiers were many, their blades dipped in venom. Every strike threatened to corrode armor and flesh alike.
A scream tore through the battlefield as a clan fighter fell, his body writhing in green smoke. His comrade caught him before he hit the ground, tears burning in his eyes as the poison ate through the man's veins. With a roar of fury, he charged, his sword blazing with fire, cutting down three enemies before an arrow pierced his throat.
The sight broke something in the hearts of those nearby. Grief turned to rage. Warriors unleashed their Vitrals without restraint, the ground itself shaking as the clash intensified.
An enemy captain surged forward, cloaked in venomous energy, cutting down two clan soldiers with a single sweep. But before he could move again, a clan woman leapt forward, her twin blades glowing with threads of lightning. She clashed with him in a storm of sparks and venom, her fury driving her strikes. With one final scream, she drove both blades into his chest, the explosion of energy tearing them both apart.
The clan gasped at the loss, but her sacrifice broke the enemy's advance for a moment.
Bodies piled on the field. The earth was stained with blood, fire, and venom. Smoke curled from burning corpses, the stench of death choking the air.
And yet, the clan did not falter. They tightened their formation, backs straight despite the grief weighing on their hearts. The more comrades they lost, the harder their blades struck.
"Do not let them through!" shouted another elder, his axe crashing into the enemy line. His Vitral surged, creating a storm of stone spikes that ripped through dozens of soldiers. "For the clan! For our home!"
His roar was answered by hundreds of voices, the clan uniting as one.
The enemy pressed harder, their sheer numbers overwhelming. Still, the clan met them with a wall of fire, stone, and steel. Every death fueled their resolve.
One young warrior, bloodied and limping, raised his sword high. His brother's body lay behind him, but his eyes burned with defiance. "You will not take another step!" he shouted, his Vitral igniting in a burst of crimson flame. He charged into the enemy horde, his blade carving arcs of fire, his body blazing like a torch. He cut down soldier after soldier, refusing to fall.
But no flame burns forever. Arrows pierced him from all sides, his fire dimming until his body fell silent among the dead.
The clan saw, and grief became rage once more. Their counterattack surged with overwhelming power, the ground trembling as they forced the enemy back.
It was a brutal, endless cycle — grief, rage, sacrifice, retaliation. Every clan member knew that if they faltered, their home would fall.
And so they fought with the strength of the desperate, a storm of vengeance crashing against the enemy's tide