The Iron Citadel burned.
Smoke billowed from its towers, and the sky above it bled orange. Lava flowed through broken canals, spilling over the platforms like veins torn open in a dying beast. The people below watched in silence as their god prepared for war.
Rein stood at the center of the shattered throne hall, blade in hand, cloak torn, eyes fixed on the figure before him.
Valen.
He had removed his helm. His hair, once golden, was now streaked with black soot. His skin glowed faintly with cracks of magma beneath. Fire curled around him—not summoned, but breathed, as if it were part of his being.
"I warned them," Valen said, voice echoing like thunder through a canyon. "That something like you would come."
Rein said nothing.
"You wear the mantle of judgment, but you're no better than they were. You kill for gods who refuse to bleed."
"I don't kill for them," Rein replied. "I kill for those who can't fight back."
Valen's laughter shook the pillars. "A noble lie. You think mercy is justice. You think restraint is strength. But I kept this world from falling. I forged peace from chaos. I burned away weakness."
"You burned everything," Rein said.
"And you came to bury the rest."
The blade in Rein's hand shimmered—and vanished.
Valen blinked. "No sword?"
"I've decided," Rein said. "I won't fight you like a swordsman. Not anymore."
Valen's expression twisted. "You're arrogant. Or suicidal."
"I'm neither," Rein replied, his hands crackling with faint, impossible light.
Valen narrowed his eyes.
Then the world bent.
Space fractured.
Rein moved without moving.
He stepped through a slit in the air, vanishing from Valen's sight, reappearing above him an instant later. His foot collided with Valen's back, sending the tyrant crashing into the molten stone.
Valen roared, fire erupting around him.
"You—!"
Another fold.
Rein twisted the fabric of reality, appearing at Valen's flank, palm outstretched. The space around Valen shivered, distorting like a mirage. The fire around him sputtered, swallowed by displacement.
Valen struck back, lashing out with a column of magma that split the platform.
Rein vanished again.
No sound. No light. Only distortion.
Valen's armor steamed. "So this is your power. Not speed. Not magic. Space itself."
"You forged yourself in fire," Rein said from behind him. "I was broken across dimensions."
The duel transcended normal combat.
Valen fought like a living volcano—each movement a seismic event. Blades of lava spiraled from his hands, shaped like spears, sickles, and chains. His body was not just aflame—it was molten fury incarnate.
Rein moved like a ripple across reality. He folded distance, sliced across geometry, redefined direction. The air cracked around him with every step.
Valen struck down with a fist that shattered the stone floor. Lava surged upward like a geyser.
Rein twisted space, redirecting the magma in midair, folding it into itself until it collapsed into a harmless spiral.
Valen roared.
"Fight me like a man!"
"I'm not a man," Rein answered. "Not anymore."
They clashed again—this time in midair.
Rein collapsed a section of space, appearing inches from Valen's face. His hand pulsed with raw dimensional force. He struck, and Valen's body twisted unnaturally, thrown across the chamber into a wall that buckled on impact.
Valen rose slowly.
Breathing heavy.
Not beaten. Not yet.
"You think you're righteous," he spat. "But I see it in your eyes. Doubt."
"You're right," Rein said. "I doubt everything. That's why I'm still human."
Valen lunged.
Flames wrapped his body. The air turned to ash. Rein jumped back—but Valen anticipated the fold. He adapted. He evolved.
He struck through Rein's next fold, catching his arm in mid-phase.
The pain was real.
Rein gasped as Valen's molten hand burned through his coat, searing flesh.
"You bleed," Valen whispered, almost kindly.
"So do you," Rein hissed.
He twisted again—this time not space, but weight.
Gravity shifted.
Valen was slammed into the floor as if the world had suddenly become ten times heavier. The stone beneath him cracked. The throne room groaned.
Rein stood above him.
Sweating. Blood trailing down his arm.
"Enough."
Valen lifted his eyes.
And smiled.
"I remember now. Why I became what I am."
Rein hesitated.
Valen's voice grew quieter. "Not to rule. Not to burn. But because I was afraid. Afraid no one else would be strong enough."
"You're not alone," Rein said.
Valen shook his head. "But I made myself alone. Long ago."
He raised his hand.
The lava beneath them trembled.
Rein tensed.
But the fire… faded.
And Valen let his arm fall.
"I won't stop you," he said. "Not anymore."
Rein frowned. "Why?"
"Because you didn't fight me with your blade," Valen whispered. "You fought me with truth."
And then—he knelt.
A warrior's surrender.
No words.
Just silence.
Rein stepped forward.
And summoned the blade.
It appeared like a sigh.
Black. Silent. Waiting.
He placed the tip to Valen's chest.
His voice trembled.
"Any last words?"
Valen looked up at him.
"Don't become me."
The blade struck once.
Clean.
Final.
Rein stood over the body as the fires died. The Citadel groaned around them. The lava withdrew. The sky dimmed.
The tyrant was dead.
But not the tragedy.
Later, as he stood at the highest balcony, watching the ashes drift into the wind, the blade faded from his hand.
A voice spoke in the back of his mind.
"Well done."
It was Arios.
"Your task is complete."
Rein did not answer.
"Her soul is safe. You may rest."
Still, he said nothing.
Because something inside him had broken.
Not from the killing.
But from the understanding.
Valen had not been wrong.
Only alone.
And Rein…
Was beginning to understand that he might be walking the same path.