The world quaked as they clashed.
Appolyth swung her spear low — its form flickering in and out of existence, half-real, half-nightmare. The earth beneath them split open, void energy bleeding into the soil.
Seraph vanished — a streak of white flame.He appeared above her, sword descending toward her neck.
Appolyth didn't hesitate.She sacrificed her head.
The white flame burned through it — turning her skull to ash — but her body twisted away before the rest was consumed. Her head regrew from rot to bone, to pale skin, to full flesh again, dark hair spilling like ink. Her scream shook the night.
Seraph landed, eyes narrowing behind his burning helm.Appolyth's voice echoed, distorted and layered — the voices of the slain crying through her throat."I will not bow, not even to light itself."
She moved. The abyss answered.Her spear flared alive — Abyssal Inversion — and black, ghostly runes crawled along its shaft, humming with an eerie sound like the cries of the dead.
She slashed. Once. Twice.The air trembled.
Seraph blocked the first blow — his sword sang with holy fire — but the second strike grazed his free hand.
Silence followed.Then, corruption began to bloom through his arm — black veins crawling like living shadows under divine flame.
Seraph's eyes widened for the first time.Without hesitation, he raised his blade and severed the infected hand. White fire consumed it instantly.
He looked back at her, tone colder than the void."So… this is what you've become, Appolyth?"
Appolyth's lips trembled — not in fear, but fury. Her body cracked under the strain, ichor dripping like tears. The night trembled with their hatred.
Seraph moved again.And the heavens burned.