The battle began before the first blow.
Elias had trained for this.
Dreamed of it.
Feared it.
But nothing could have prepared him for the presence of Shadow.
He wasn't fast — he was inevitable.
He wasn't loud — he was silence that crushed worlds.
Their blades met once.
Once was enough.
Elias flew backward, crashing through obsidian pillars. His ribs screamed. The sword in his hand pulsed with pain — not physical, but ancient. It wept for the light it had lost.
Shadow stepped forward, calm.
"You wield their final hope," he said. "But you don't understand it."
"I don't need to understand it!" Elias yelled, forcing himself up.
"I am it."
Above them, the skies of Ash'Var trembled.
Far away, kingdoms watched through crystal orbs and holy mirrors.
Some prayed.
Some cheered.
But most… waited.
Because they feared both outcomes.
Elias roared and charged again.
Each strike he threw carved light into the dark air — arcs of pure energy.
Shadow caught each blow, not with his blade, but with will.
He bent the attacks.
He drank the light.
And laughed.
"You think you're the first?" Shadow growled.
"The first chosen?
The first candle in a storm of darkness?
I've extinguished stars for less."
But Elias didn't stop.
He struck again.
And again.
Until something… cracked.
Not in Shadow — but in the sword.
The blade flared white — then gold — then black.
Elias gasped.
The sword turned to ash in his hands.
And from the ash… something spoke.
A voice, feminine. Ageless.
"Run, boy."
Shadow lunged.
Elias dodged — barely.
But he was disarmed.
Broken.
Alone.
Or so he thought.
From the east, a scream — sharp and holy.
From the west, a howl — like shattered glass.
Figures emerged.
Two of them.
One cloaked in burning feathers — a rogue Lightbearer.
The other cloaked in bone — a defected demon general.
They did not speak.
They did not bow.
They stood beside Elias.
Shadow paused.
He tilted his head.
"Interesting…" he whispered.
Elias stared at them, bleeding, confused.
"Why… why help me?"
The Lightbearer knelt.
"Not for you," she said.
"For balance."
The demon spat black blood.
"And because he betrayed us first."
Shadow's eyes flickered.
For the first time, he looked amused.
"So the broken gather.
The forgotten rise.
And the world dares to fight me… again."
He raised his hand.
The sky cracked.
And thus began the true battle.
Three against one.
Light. Shadow. Betrayal. Hope.
It didn't matter.
Shadow was more than a king.
He was the wound the world refused to close.
By the end…
Only Elias stood.
The Lightbearer, gone — burned into wings of memory.
The demon general — torn apart, smiling even in death.
And Shadow…
Still breathing.
Barely.
His crown had cracked.
His throne had crumbled.
But his will remained.
Elias stood, shaking, bleeding from his eyes.
The sword — gone.
His power — flickering.
Shadow looked at him, no longer angry. Just… tired.
"You came to kill me," he whispered.
"But all you did… was remind me who I am."
He sat back down on the broken throne.
The world rumbled.
"Let them send more."
And then, louder:
"I. AM. THE KING OF HELL."
The world shook in fear.