The creature gave him no time to breathe.
It advanced.
The first movement was almost invisible—
a shift of weight,
an adjustment of posture—
and then it was already upon him.
Kaelion raised the sword.
Blocked the first blow.
The impact echoed through the layer.
Heavy.
Heavier than anything that had come before.
The second blow broke through his defense.
Not because he hadn't seen it.
Because the force was too great to fully contain.
The third sent him crashing against the layer.
He slid.
Stopped.
And got up before the fourth came.
The second order pulsed inside him.
Slowly.
Working.
He began to perceive the creature's rhythm—
not with his eyes,
but with that awareness that had awakened in him through the previous fights.
The weight before the blow.
The shift before the attack.
The instant between one sequence and the next.
The creature advanced again.
Kaelion turned.
Not to escape.
To find.
The blade cut.
The darkness opened—
and this time did not close immediately.
An arm fell.
For an instant—
just one instant—
the creature went still.
And then the black smoke moved.
The arm returned.
Not slowly.
Not with effort.
Immediately.
As if it had never been separated.
As if the cut were merely a memory the void had decided to erase.
The layer vibrated.
Kaelion stepped back.
Breathless.
Both heads tilted.
Something appeared on the distorted surfaces—
not exactly a smile,
but what a smile would be
if it had been devoured and reconstituted by something that had never smiled before.
The voice did not come from outside.
It passed through directly.
— No matter how many times you cut us.
The creature stepped forward.
— No matter how many parts of us you separate.
— We regenerate.
A pause.
As if letting that settle.
— But this…
All four eyes fixed on the blade.
— Is not about the sword.
— It's about who holds it.
Another step.
Closer.
— Only the original owner of this blade could cause us real damage.
The warped smile widened.
— And you…
— Are not him.
The creature moved closer still—
the distorted face almost touching his,
both heads tilted at different angles,
as if each observed something different in him.
— This blade…
A longer pause.
As if savoring what was to come.
— Belonged to an archangel.
The layer rippled around them.
— We devoured him.
The darkened eyes fixed on him.
— If it were him holding this weapon…
It tilted one of its heads slightly.
— Perhaps things would be different.
The smile widened further.
— But you…
A pause.
— Are merely a soul holding metal that does not belong to you.
The creature stepped back.
Not from fear.
From contempt.
— You can cut.
— We can regenerate.
Its eyes gleamed with something that was not rage.
It was certainty.
— You have no chance.
It tilted its body to attack again.
Kaelion did not respond.
There was no response to that.
Not yet.
He simply raised the sword—
slowly,
without haste,
without challenge—
and waited.
The fight was not yet over.