Two titanic forces, no different from what seemed like gods locked in a battle of the heavens, tore through the forest like an apocalypse given form and reign over destruction, their presence alone warping the very essence of the environment as though reality struggled to contain them.
One was pure golden, his body moving with madness and destruction as his katana moved with speed and velocity, leaving behind streaks of radiant light that carved through space itself, the other was a combination of purple streaks and white, flashing through the air as though, without the destruction of the world of Crymora, they wouldn't stop, their movements carrying an ominous finality that promised nothing short of devastation.
And indeed, they wouldn't stop; they would only do so when one of them is dead, when one bends to the other, when the will of one is crushed beneath the dominance of the other, leaving no room for retreat, hesitation, or mercy in this clash of extremes.
