The battle-scarred ground beneath them trembled with each violent step. The air around them crackled with the energy of death itself, the atmosphere thick with the metallic scent of blood, the earth soaked with the lives of those caught in the wake of this war. The ruins of the citadel stretched out in all directions, a desolate landscape that reflected the war within their hearts.
Varek stood across from Ezekiel, his body bleeding, bruised, and broken from the brutal exchange, but his eyes burned with an icy fire. Every part of him screamed for vengeance—Ezekiel's betrayal had shattered the last remnants of his hope. Now, nothing mattered but the fight. Nothing mattered but ending the life of the man who had once been his closest friend.
"You think you can kill me, Varek?" Ezekiel's voice was a snarl, raw with anger and disbelief. He took a step forward, blood dripping from his own wounds, staining the cracked stone beneath his boots. His sword was still in his grip, albeit battered, but the rage in his eyes was all-consuming. "You're not strong enough! You never were!"
Varek's lips curled into a grim smile, his silver eyes gleaming with deadly determination. "I don't need to be strong enough. I just need to be strong enough to kill you." His voice was low, cold, and unyielding.
Without another word, Ezekiel lunged forward, his broken blade slicing the air. Varek moved faster than a strike of lightning, stepping to the side, narrowly avoiding the slash. Ezekiel's sword scraped against his shoulder, the cut shallow but deep enough to draw blood. The pain was nothing—nothing compared to the fire raging within him.
Varek's own sword, drenched in the blood of others, was already in motion. The sharp steel tore through the air as he swung it toward Ezekiel's neck, aiming for a clean kill. But Ezekiel was ready.
He blocked the strike, but Varek was relentless. He pulled his blade back, his foot driving into Ezekiel's stomach with the force of a battering ram. The force of the blow sent Ezekiel sprawling onto the ground, gasping for air.
"You were a brother to me once, Ezekiel," Varek growled, standing over him, looking down at the man who had betrayed him. "And now... now, you're nothing but an obstacle I need to destroy."
Ezekiel's eyes narrowed with a fierce, maddened glint. He scrambled to his feet, his bloodlust ignited by Varek's words. "Obstacles can be removed," he hissed. "You don't get it. I don't care if we were brothers. This... this war was always going to happen. You were never meant to lead, Varek. You were too weak. Too naive."
Varek's rage erupted. He charged at Ezekiel, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Ezekiel parried the blow, their swords clashing with a violent, thunderous crash. The shock of the impact reverberated through their bodies, each blow sending vibrations through their bones.
"You made your choice the moment you betrayed me!" Varek snarled as he pressed harder, forcing Ezekiel back with each strike. His eyes were wild with fury, but they held a calmness within them, a controlled rage that made him even more terrifying.
Ezekiel's face twisted with hatred, his breath coming in sharp, labored gasps. His sword trembled in his hands as he struggled to hold his ground. "I chose power. Something you could never understand!" His voice cracked with desperation, and he thrust forward, his blade aiming for Varek's heart.
Varek dodged the strike with a swift roll, coming up behind Ezekiel. Before Ezekiel could react, Varek grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back and slamming his elbow into his temple with a sickening crack.
The sound of Ezekiel's skull colliding with Varek's elbow echoed in the ruined citadel, but Ezekiel didn't fall. His rage only intensified.
"You think that will stop me?!" Ezekiel roared. He spun around with inhuman speed, slashing wildly at Varek's torso. The blade tore through his side, but Varek barely flinched.
"No." Varek's voice was a quiet promise. "But this will."
Varek surged forward, his sword a blur as it sliced through the air. Ezekiel barely had time to react. He blocked the blow, but Varek's strength was overwhelming. The force of the strike sent Ezekiel to his knees, the sheer weight of it pushing him back.
With a feral roar, Ezekiel slammed his sword into the ground, using it as leverage to push himself back to his feet. His eyes were bloodshot, veins bulging from his neck as he gritted his teeth.
"I WILL END YOU, VAREK!" Ezekiel screamed, his voice cracking with madness. "YOU'RE NOTHING TO ME! NOTHING!"
Varek's reply was a grim smile, his eyes cold and unwavering. "And yet... you're still alive. For now."
In one swift, savage motion, Varek lunged at Ezekiel, his sword aimed directly for his throat. The blade collided with Ezekiel's defenses, but the sheer force of the impact caused Ezekiel to lose his footing. He stumbled back, his sword flying from his hands and landing several feet away.
It was now or never.
Varek pressed his advantage, his body a blur of motion as he drove Ezekiel backward with relentless fury. With each strike, he pushed his former friend closer to the brink of death. Ezekiel tried to fight back, his hands trembling, his breathing shallow and ragged. But his strength was failing him.
With a final, brutal cry, Ezekiel tried to strike at Varek with his bare fists. His punch was weak, a shadow of his former power. Varek caught his arm mid-swing, twisting it behind his back with a sickening crack.
"You should've stayed down," Varek whispered into Ezekiel's ear, his voice filled with dark, bitter satisfaction.
But Ezekiel wasn't done yet.
He snarled, summoning every ounce of strength left in his broken body. In a last, desperate act of defiance, he reached for a hidden dagger strapped to his belt. Before Varek could react, Ezekiel drove the dagger into his side, the blade sinking deep into his flesh.
Varek gasped, the pain searing through him, but it only fueled his rage. He pulled the dagger out with a swift motion, throwing it aside. The wound was shallow, but it was enough to make him angry. Enough to make him want to end this once and for all.
In an instant, Varek took hold of Ezekiel's throat once more, squeezing with all his might. His fingers dug into the flesh, the pressure building as Ezekiel's eyes widened in terror.
"No..." Ezekiel gasped, his voice barely a whisper. "Please..."
But Varek's expression was a mask of cold determination.
"You should have never betrayed me," Varek muttered, his voice low and guttural. "This ends now."
With one final, savage twist, Varek snapped Ezekiel's neck.
Ezekiel's body went limp, his breath coming to a halt. For a long moment, the battlefield was silent, the only sound the harsh winds and the distant thunder. Varek stood over the lifeless body of his former friend, his chest heaving as blood poured from his wounds. But his eyes were empty, hollow.
He had done it.
Ezekiel was gone.
But as Varek turned to leave, a sickening noise interrupted his thoughts.
Ezekiel's body began to writhe, twisting unnaturally. A grotesque, guttural growl echoed from the corpse, and the blood that pooled beneath it began to bubble and churn.
From the mutilated remains of Ezekiel, a monstrous, demonic figure emerged. Its form was twisted, its eyes glowing red with malice. It was no longer Ezekiel—he had become something far worse.
The demon's jagged, sharp claws reached toward Varek, its maw opening wide, filled with rows of teeth. The creature's presence was suffocating, filled with the stench of death and decay.
"Diablos..." Varek whispered, his voice a mixture of dread and determination. The time had come to face the true evil that had manipulated them both.