[MAIN STREET]
Alex's sword pressed against Kael's throat.
Not hard. Not cutting.
Just… making itself known.
A clear message of who had won.
Kael looked up—veteran eyes meeting Alex's eyes.
Crimson glowing around the normal pupils.
A fragment active but controlled.
"How?" Kael asked again. His voice hoarse, defeated. "Thirty years. Thirty years without a single failure. And you…"
A pause.
"…you destroyed me in five minutes."
Alex didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked around the battlefield.
Marcus—surrounded by thirty level 70 skeletons, his Infernal Hound bleeding from multiple wounds, he himself with at least ten visible cuts. Swords lowered. Surrendered in fact if not in word.
Lyra—cornered against a building by twenty skeletons, her Mist Serpent barely alive, she herself breathing heavily. Daggers on the ground. No longer fighting.
