The Black Goat of Qohor had stepped onto the mortal plane. And hovering merely fifty paces away from the terrifying beast, burning with the fury of a dying star, was Aeternus.
"You will die, Destroyer. Just as you are strengthened by the souls you have harvested, I too am empowered by the sacrifices made in my name. The era of Gods will begin anew, and this time, it shall be under my auspices," the Black Goat boomed, his dual, eerie voice echoing across the ruined city.
"We shall see how far your ambitions reach. But for now, you have yet to even take your first steps," Father countered, his voice steady and cold.
Akua merely grunted. The dark god began to chant in a foul, guttural tongue, and the massive shadow tendrils writhing around him surged toward Father, their tips mutating into jagged, lethal spikes.
Father effortlessly weaved through the air, raising a shimmering Protego shield to deflect the strikes that tracked his movements. He retaliated with a devastating volley of chained lightning. Several arcs missed, shattering against the ruined stonework below, but the bolts that connected scorched the bronze flesh of the dark god, drawing a furious, earth-shaking roar from the beast.
I glanced at Lily. She was entirely spellbound, her green eyes reflecting the furious aerial duel. Daemon's reaction was even more profound; the Targaryen was gawking, staring unblinkingly at the sky as if the impossible scene would vanish the moment he dared to close his eyes.
"What the hell are you doing standing there? Leave the city at once!"
My father's raging voice detonated directly inside my skull. I keeled over, clutching my temples as Lily and Daemon simultaneously collapsed beside me. Caraxes growled at the sudden change, quirking his massive horned head, but otherwise remained compliant.
I realised my foolishness. We were wasting precious time being spectators. Fighting through the ringing pain in my head, I forced myself up and dragged Lily and Daemon to their feet.
As the resonant echo of father's command retreated from my mind, I broke into a hard sprint. The others followed closely behind. High above us, the apocalyptic clash between Father and Akua intensified, tearing the storm clouds to shreds. It was imperative we clear the blast radius so Father could end this without restraint.
We finally breached the western edges of Qohor. The evacuation was in full swing; hundreds of battered legionaries were limping through the shattered gates, many carrying their wounded comrades on their shoulders.
My gaze found Paladin Maria holding the rearguard. She spotted us through the smoke and immediately knelt, her surviving troops dropping to their knees alongside her despite the chaos.
"Princeps. Domina," she greeted, her voice ragged with exhaustion.
"How long until the perimeter is clear?" I demanded.
"We need half a sext to allow the remainder of the legion and the surviving civilian populace to escape," she answered, her head bowed. "Many of the men were unable to bear the Deus' voice inside their minds and collapsed. I deeply regret the delay, Princeps."
"Raise your head, Maria. I am honestly surprised by the number of men who managed to withstand it at all," I admitted. I looked past her, watching the vast, armoured stream of the red sea bottleneck and pour through the great stone gates of the city.
"It was a divine ordeal, Dominus. But they are men of Rome," Maria stated with fierce, unyielding pride.
…
Third Person POV
The clouds coalesced above the city of Qohor had a piercing hole in them through which the moonlight shone. Yet these dark clouds carried not just the luminous moon and its rays, but the torrential lightning that signified the advent of something far more tumultuous. Two divine beings of unimaginable power stood facing one another. Of the two, one carried his humanity within him, while the other carried the trace of the abyss from which he was born. Both were unyielding, both unfit for the fragile mortal realm, yet when this storm passed, only one could remain.
The Emperor of Rome made the first move. A torrent of cursed Fiendfyre roared from his wand, a blazing tide of unnatural, monstrous heat that sought to incinerate the night. Akua swung his massive bronze arms, whipping a dozen pitch-black tendrils to bat the flames aside. The resulting collision showered the ruined streets below in embers and dying shadows.
Before the dark god could press a counterattack, Hadrian slashed his wand in a wide, sweeping arc. "Expecto Patronum!"
A blinding eruption of pure, radiant white light tore through the gloom. The holy energy rapidly condensed, taking the form of a massive, ethereal great horned owl. The luminous avian shrieked, diving directly at the Black Goat. The pure light washed over Akua, searing his bronze, gladiator-like skin. The dark god bellowed in agony, the sound vibrating through the very bedrock of Qohor. Desperate, Akua summoned a violent swarm of thick shadow tendrils, rapidly weaving them together to form a dense, impenetrable dome of darkness around his towering form.
The shadows writhed, aggressively latching onto the talons and wings of the glowing owl, seeking to infect and consume the holy magic. Seeing the corruption spreading, Hadrian cleanly severed the magical tether. The great horned owl dissolved into a shower of harmless white sparks, depriving the shadows of their prey.
Far below, a miracle unfolded. To construct his defensive dome, Akua had unconsciously recalled the ambient dark magic saturating the city. Hundreds of the shadow-possessed Qohorik suddenly collapsed as the suffocating abyss left their bodies. They awoke gasping and shuddering in the mud, their eyes wide as they gazed up at the apocalyptic battle raging in the heavens. Tears carved paths through the soot and blood on their faces. Overwhelmed by the sheer divinity of the spectacle, many dropped to their trembling knees in fervent prayer.
Then, a booming, resonant voice echoed within their very minds.
Leave the city at once.
The mental command of the Imperator carried a weight that no mortal could refuse. The freed citizens scrambled to their feet, joining the retreating Roman legions in a desperate, chaotic stampede toward the southern gates.