Rudra's eyes gleamed as he raised the Divine Sword Star. "You are strong, Reinhart, but I think it's time we take this a step further."
A subtle radiance spread from him, faint at first, then growing until the barren land itself seemed illuminated with holy light. The very air vibrated with the energy of someone who had been born to inspire, to lead, to dominate the battlefield without fear.
Rudra whispered under his breath, almost to himself: "Chosen One…"
Immediately, the aura around him thickened, golden threads of power wrapping around his body. His sword hummed in resonance, echoing with the weight of countless victories and legendary feats.
Mimir's voice echoed dryly in my mind: "Lad… he's not just powering up. That's a god-class skill of a Chosen Hero. Not just strength—luck, courage, guidance… and imitation. He's about to turn the battlefield into a stage where fate itself bends to his will."
Reinhart blinked but didn't falter. "Hmph. I see… so this is what a Chosen Hero's full power looks like."
With the activation of Chosen One, multiple sub-skills unfolded simultaneously:
Hero's Blessing: Reinhart noticed subtle shifts. Every strike that would normally find its mark now grazed him or was deflected by the faintest motion. Even his fastest slashes seemed to meet no resistance.
Hero's Charisma: The morale of everyone nearby shifted. Veldora, Karlos, and even Zalario felt their battle instincts sharpen, hearts pounding with courage as if they could take on anything. The battlefield had suddenly become a theater for heroes.
Hero's Action: Rudra's every move was not only precise but also instructive. Reinhart felt the pressure not just of raw skill but of strategic foresight. It was as if Rudra's strikes whispered lessons with every swing, teaching the principles of heroism in battle through pain and force.
Banner of the Supreme King: Rudra's aura pulsed, as if memories of fallen allies, their techniques, and their experiences were embedded into every strike he made. Reinhart could sense the familiarity of countless perfected moves—but all uniquely Rudra's.
The ground quaked beneath them. Rudra moved with blinding speed, each strike of the Divine Sword Star leaving trails of golden light, arcs cutting through the air with unerring precision. Reinhart responded with Eclipsion, but now even his god-class skill was being tested in ways that pushed him to adapt instantly.
Sparks erupted with every collision, each one a miniature explosion of light and sound. The sheer force of their blades tore through the wind itself, creating shockwaves that rolled across the barren land.
"Lad…" Mimir muttered dryly. "Watch closely. Chosen One isn't just power. It's fate bending itself around the user. One misstep, and even Reinhart's genius won't be enough."
Reinhart gritted his teeth, sweat running down his jaw as he adjusted his stance. Every counter, every parry now demanded not only skill but an understanding of the invisible threads Rudra was weaving.
I could feel the difference. Even as a True Dragon, watching two true heroes clash at this scale… it's an education in itself.
Rudra's blade flashed again, faster, lighter, and more precise than anything Reinhart had encountered. The ground under Reinhart's feet cracked with force, dust and debris spiraling as he pivoted, dodged, and countered.
"Chosen One… that's the power of a hero's destiny, huh?" Reinhart muttered under his breath. "Not just strength… strategy, luck, experience… everything in one."
The battlefield had transformed. No longer just a fight of swords and magic, it was a duel of wills, of fate itself—each strike, each parry, carrying the weight of history, honor, and unyielding heroism.
Veldora, floating to the side with wide eyes, muttered, "I… I don't even know where to look first. This is insane."
Karlos, trying to stay composed, muttered: "Hahaha… he's really doing it… the battlefield bends around him."
And in the middle of it all, Rudra's aura blazed brighter with every second, his sub-skills silently guiding the fight, while Reinhart's resolve refused to break.
I couldn't help but smirk. "This is going to be one for the ages."
Reinhart's eyes flashed with determination. "Hehe… Chosen One, huh? A unique skill that manipulates probability to some extent. Good thing I have something like that too… and an ultimate skill at that—Hope King Fortuna!"
The air around him shimmered instantly, as if the world itself was holding its breath. A faint golden glow traced the edges of his form, sparks of light flickering in impossible patterns.
Mimir's dry voice echoed in my mind: "Lad… he's serious. That's no ordinary skill. Keep your eyes peeled. Hope King Fortuna isn't just luck—it bends reality in his favor… subtly, but dangerously."
Sub-skills activated simultaneously:
Future Sight: Reinhart's gaze sharpened unnaturally. Every swing, every motion I made, he could anticipate a few moments ahead. He adjusted his stance, parried before I even decided to strike, and dodged before my attacks had fully formed.
Destiny Guidance: The battlefield itself seemed to shift, ever so slightly. Gusts of wind, tiny shifts in footing, and even stray pebbles seemed to fall in Reinhart's favor. Every near-miss and perfect counter was no longer chance—it was subtle manipulation of fate.
Hope Aura: His presence radiated, not just empowering himself but subtly strengthening everyone around him. Karlos and Veldora felt their reflexes sharpen, Zalario's observation became even more precise, and I could sense even Karna giggling in perfect rhythm with the flow of energy around him.
Lucky Field: The improbable became normal. Projectiles that should have hit Reinhart were deflected by near-miraculous timing. Every opportunity for disaster seemed to evaporate at the last moment, while his own strikes connected with uncanny precision.
The clash resumed with terrifying intensity. Rudra, guided by the Chosen One, swung with absolute mastery, his blade leaving streaks of golden light across the barren land. Reinhart, now enhanced by Hope King Fortuna, matched him step for step.
Sparks flew, the ground quaked, and shockwaves rippled outward. For every strike Rudra made with perfect timing and foresight, Reinhart countered with seemingly impossible premonition. Each parry, each block, was a dance of destiny and heroism.
"Fascinating…" Mimir muttered, his tone dry but impressed. "Lad, you're watching two forces bending reality itself. This isn't just strength… It's probability, willpower, fate, and strategy all colliding. Don't blink."
Rudra's eyes narrowed. "Hah… so this is the power of a rival hero with unwavering hope. Impressive, but I won't lose."
Reinhart smirked behind his helmet, his aura flaring brighter. "Neither will I."
Every clash of their blades sent tremors across the land, the light of Rudra's Chosen One and the golden probability-warping aura of Reinhart's Hope King Fortuna colliding, creating explosions of brilliance that made even the barren wasteland seem alive with energy.
I stood back with Zalario, watching carefully. "This… this is beyond a normal duel. They aren't just fighting; they're warping reality around each other."
Veldora floated closer, eyes wide. "I… I can't even follow half of what's happening! Their swords… it's like they're painting the sky with light!"
Karlos chuckled darkly. "Hah… hope versus destiny, probability versus fate. This is exactly the kind of fight I live to see!"
And in the middle of it all, the two true heroes clashed, the battlefield trembling under the weight of their combined will, their aura practically bending the laws of the world itself.
While Reinhart and Rudra tore up the landscape, I turned to Veldanava. "By the way, elder brother, there's something that might interest you."
He raised an eyebrow, eyes still faintly glowing with that calm omniscience of his. "Oh? And what would that be, Velsun?"
I held up my left arm and tapped the metallic guard wrapped around it. "This—my newest creation. A Genesis-grade armament. I call it Incandescence." The faint golden runes across its surface pulsed once, catching the sunlight. "Forged from a fragment of my core, just like you once told me it could be done. It can reshape into any weapon I need—a sword, a lance, a bow, anything."
Veldanava's expression softened, a glint of genuine pride flashing through his divine calm. "That's remarkable, Velsun. Other than my seven Genesis-grade weapons, none have existed since the beginning. Only your Incandescence." He chuckled lightly. "I remember you pestering me about Genesis forging during your wedding—didn't think you'd actually pull it off so soon. Seems I underestimated you."
"Can I see it?" he asked, extending his hand.
I unlatched the arm guard and passed it to him. The faint hum of compressed solar energy resonated through the air as it left my arm.
Velzard and Velgrynd, naturally, drifted closer, their curiosity practically glowing as much as the weapon itself.
"Let me see, let me see," Velzard said, leaning over Veldanava's shoulder. "It's beautiful—feels… alive."
"More than alive," Velgrynd added, tilting her head. "It's like it's listening to him."
Veldanava turned the guard slowly in his hand, divine senses flaring faintly. Then he nodded. "Hm… impressive. The structure's perfect. I can sense how it amplifies your True Dragon magic—it doesn't just channel it; it multiplies it. This isn't a weapon, Velsun. It's an extension of your being."
He looked up at me, smiling faintly. "You've done well, little brother."
Even with the ground shaking from Rudra and Reinhart's clash in the background, that one line made the world feel calm for a moment.