The brute pressed forward.

Every swing of his axes split the battlefield like earthquakes, each blow gouging trenches through stone. Sparks leapt from the blades, arcs of heat slashing Vael's skin even when he dodged. His laughter carried through the dust, guttural, merciless.

"Too small. Too thin. You'll snap like a twig."

Vael did not answer. His breath rasped, blood streaking his chin. His daggers gleamed faintly, shadows crawling along their edges.

The brute swung both axes down at once. Vael blurred. Steel cleaved nothing but ground, rock erupting upward. When the dust cleared, Vael was already behind him, dagger poised for the spine.

The brute turned. Too fast for his bulk. An axe swept wide, forcing Vael into shadow again, reappearing three paces back, blood still dripping from his palm where the void had scarred him earlier.

He spat to the side.

["I can't meet him head-on. I cut tendons. Joints. Bleed him piece by piece."]

The brute roared and charged.

★★★

Above, Ren's fog swallowed steel. The obsidian commander's blade cut through the erasure as if ordained, yet each swing grew slower. Ren's hand trembled once before steadying, fog coiling tighter around his frame like armor. The duel was soundless, endless, erasure against inevitability.

Elara screamed somewhere in the distance. Her light burst again, golden veins spreading through cracked ground. Bone-masks shrieked, curses tearing her skin, but her roots still grew. Creation refused to bow.

And Ervin knelt in the crater he had made, lightning flickering faintly along his body. His arm hung ruined, blackened. But his eyes were still open. Still watching.

★★★

The brute tore stone from the ground and hurled it like a mountain.

Vael darted, shadows blurring his path. The boulder smashed into ruin, fragments flying like shrapnel. One cut deep across his leg. He stumbled, breath catching.

The brute saw it. He charged, axes raised.

Vael's grin was sharp through blood. "Now."

He flicked his wrist. The shadow of the falling boulder lengthened. His dagger slid into it and out again—appearing behind the brute's ankle. Steel sliced deep, severing tendon.

The brute roared, stumbling, one knee crashing down. The earth split beneath him.

Vael didn't hesitate. He vanished into shadow again, reappeared at the brute's back, both daggers plunging into the gaps of his scaled armor. Venom hissed into blood.

The brute twisted, one massive arm backhanding him. The blow caught.

Bone snapped. Vael flew, crashing through a ruined spire, coughing blood. His ribs screamed with each breath. His right arm hung useless.

The brute staggered to his feet, poison already eating him from within. His grin wavered but held. "Better. But not enough."

★★★

Elara fell to one knee. Her light dimmed, flickering. The masked woman's bone-faces closed in, whispering unmaking in a dozen voices. Flowers withered before they bloomed.

Still Elara pressed her palm down, golden blood dripping through her fingers. Her voice cracked:

"Not while they're still fighting."

The ground steadied. Cracks sealed. Soldiers around her drew breath again, wounds closing by threads of gold.

★★★

Vael staggered upright. His ribs were broken, his arm gone dead. His dagger was still in his good hand, shadows flickering weakly.

The brute dragged himself closer, axes raised high, his body trembling from poison but fury carrying him.

Vael exhaled slow. Blood ran from his lips. His eyes were sharp, steady.

["One strike. Nothing else left."]

The brute swung.

Vael moved.

He let the axe graze him, the blade tearing through his side, blood exploding in a spray. He used the pain, used the momentum, vanishing into shadow at the instant of impact.

He reappeared beneath the brute's chin, dagger already rising.

The blade pierced soft flesh. Venom surged upward.

The brute's eyes widened, glow shattering. His roar caught in his throat.

Vael twisted the blade. "Fall."

The giant collapsed, axes slipping from his hands, body crashing into the earth hard enough to shake the ground.

For a moment, silence.

Then Vael dropped too, falling into shadow just before his knees buckled. He reformed against a shattered wall, chest heaving, blood pouring from his side. His dagger clattered from his hand. His vision blurred.

But the brute did not rise.

Two commanders were erased.

★★★

The battlefield held its breath again. Armies hesitated, both sides staring at the craters, the corpses, the ruin.

And then the noise returned, louder than ever. Spells screamed, blades clashed, firestorms fell.

At the center, only two commanders remained.

The Masked Woman against Elara.

The Obsidian blade against Ren.

The war narrowed.

★★★

The brute's corpse still smoked where it lay. Poison leaked into the earth, shadows curling away from its skin.

Vael leaned against the broken wall, blood seeping through his torn side. His breathing rasped like torn cloth. His dagger was gone, his strength nearly with it. But his eyes stayed open. Watching.

The battlefield shifted again.

The bone-masked woman drifted closer. Her steps made no sound. Masks orbited her head, each turning, whispering in a voice not meant for mortal ears. Every syllable crawled under the skin, promises of decay and silence.

She did not look at Vael. Not at Ren. Not even at Ervin, slumped in lightning's afterglow.

Her gaze fixed only on Elara.

Elara's knees buckled under the weight of it. Her golden light sputtered, her ribs screaming with each breath. The whispers pressed into her ears, into her mind, telling her what she already feared.

Fragile. Weak. A girl with cracked veins, pretending to stand among titans.

Her palm trembled against the ground. The glow of her roots dimmed. Soldiers who had leaned on her strength gasped as wounds reopened. The battlefield seemed to lean toward despair.

The masks opened wide. From them spilled not breath, not magic, but rot. Flowers withered before they grew. The stone darkened, splitting. Flesh turned gray and thin where the air touched.

Elara's hand shook harder.

["I can't… hold it. Not against this. I am not Ren. Not Vael. Not Ervin."]

Her vision blurred. The golden veins in her arms cracked, bleeding light.

Then she heard him. Not his voice—his presence.

Ren, locked in fog against the Obsidian blade, still standing. His back to her. Always.

Her breath steadied. Barely.

Her voice rasped, almost gone.

"…no."

The golden light flared. Thin at first. Then wider.

The ground beneath her bloomed. Roots pierced through cracks, curling around bone fragments, forcing them apart. Flowers opened, small, fragile, but real.

The masks screamed. Their voices bent higher, sharper, until stone cracked under the pressure.

The woman raised her pale hand. Dozens of masks detached at once, orbiting faster, a storm of bone faces, their mouths gaping. Curses poured like knives.

Elara screamed back. Her palms slammed into the ground. Light burst outward.

A forest rose from the ruin. Not trees, not whole, but splintered vines and blossoms of gold that clawed against the corruption. Each bloom wilted instantly under the curses, yet more replaced them. Creation refused to vanish.

Vael forced himself upright, his good hand gripping stone. His voice was hoarse, almost a laugh.

"…she's… blooming."

The battlefield shifted again.

Ren pressed harder into his duel. The obsidian commander's sword cut through fog, but each time it did the erasure crawled deeper up the blade. Their clash rang without sound, inevitability against inevitability.

Ervin's head lifted faintly, blood pouring from his mouth. He saw the golden glow through the ruin and let himself smile once, small.

Elara rose to her feet.

Her body shook, blood running freely from her lips, but she stood. Golden roots wrapped her arms, light flickering in veins that should have torn apart.

Her voice cut clear across the battlefield.

"You will not unmake what I've sown."

The bone-masked woman tilted her head. For the first time her whispers faltered.

Elara's light surged.

The field of flowers ignited. Gold blazed brighter than flame, forcing back the orbiting masks. Each one cracked, shrieking, splitting into fragments of bone and dust. The air quaked with their death.

The woman raised her hand again, pale light condensing, but vines wrapped her arm, pulling tight. Golden blossoms bloomed along her flesh, and for the first time she hissed. Her face was twisting beneath the masks' shadows.

Elara's eyes burned with tears, with blood, but she did not stop. She pressed both hands forward.

"Bloom."

The plain erupted. Golden roots speared upward, flowers bursting from cracks, every petal blazing like stars. The woman's masks shattered in a storm of fragments. Her body flickered, unraveling. She raised her hand once, but it was dragged down, swallowed by creation itself.

She vanished in a flood of light.

Elara collapsed to her knees. The forest withered at once, golden petals drifting like ash.

But the commander was gone.

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