The city had not recovered after the battle with the wardens which took atleast a whole street with them yet another entity was on its way.
The Eclipse has arrived.
Lys felt it first—pressure crawling along his spine as he leaned against a fractured wall, barely upright. His seals were shattered, burned raw from overuse. Every breath scraped. Every heartbeat echoed wrong.
He was done.
For now.
"Stay down," Valerius said, stepping in front of him.
Lys tried to protest. Failed. His knees buckled, and Valerius caught him, easing him down against the rubble with a care that felt out of place in a battlefield.
"You've done enough," Valerius said quietly. "This one's mine."
The Eclipse emerged from the warped street ahead—not lesser, not Sovereign.
A Hunter-class.
Its form was lean and angular, blades of void unfolding from its arms, eyes burning with predatory awareness. It didn't roar. Didn't posture.
It locked onto Lys.
Target acquired.
Valerius stood between them.
The Eclipse tilted its head.
"Insufficient," it hissed. "You are not the anomaly."
Valerius drew his sword.
The sound was clean. Final.
"You don't get him," Valerius said. "You get me."
The Eclipse struck first—crossing the distance in a flicker, void blades screaming as they tore through space itself.
Valerius moved.
Not faster.
Cleaner.
Steel met void.
The impact shattered the street, shockwaves ripping outward as Valerius pivoted, redirected, and slid past the Eclipse's strike by inches. His blade traced a precise arc, carving through Eclipse matter and forcing the creature back.
It shrieked—more surprised than hurt.
"You're human," it spat. "Fragile. Temporary."
Valerius adjusted his stance.
Master's form.
"You mistake humanity for weakness."
The Eclipse attacked again—relentless, adaptive, strikes shifting angles mid-motion, trying to overwhelm through sheer distortion.
Valerius answered with discipline.
Each step measured.
Each cut deliberate.
No wasted motion.
He read the Eclipse—not its body, but its intent. Anticipated phase shifts. Cut through void seams before they fully formed. When the Eclipse attempted to anchor him, Valerius severed the anchor point itself, collapsing the technique mid-execution.
Lys watched through blurred vision, realization hitting harder than any wound.
Valerius wasn't just skilled.
He had fought Eclipse before.
The Hunter grew frustrated.
It overextended.
That was all Valerius needed.
He stepped inside the Eclipse's guard, blade flashing upward in a tight, brutal arc. The strike didn't cleave flesh—it cut structure, slicing through the core pattern that held the Eclipse together.
The creature staggered, form destabilizing.
Valerius didn't hesitate.
"One," he said softly—and drove the sword home.
The Eclipse screamed as its body unraveled, collapsing into fractured shadow before dissolving entirely into nothing.
Silence followed.
Valerius stood still for a moment, sword lowered, breath steady.
Then his knees hit the ground.
Lys forced himself forward, dragging his broken body closer. "You… idiot," he rasped. "You're not unhurt."
Valerius gave a tired smile. "Never said I was."
He looked at Lys, expression turning serious.
"You carry the storm," Valerius said. "Someone has to guard the ground when it breaks."
Above them, far beyond the repaired sky, something observed.
Not the power.
Not the destruction.
But the fact that when the anomaly fell—
another still stood.
And that, to the Eclipse, was far more dangerous.