Kael’Dros stood in the center of a crater nearly five city blocks wide.
The ground around him began to shake.
Cracks split outward like veins, reaching toward the edges of the crater.
Chunks of asphalt and debris started to lift.
Dust spun around him in tight circles, dragged by the pressure bleeding off his body.

His aura thickened.
What had once poured outward now coiled tighter.
The energy condensed.
What had once raged outward now collapsed inward, folding into itself like pressure sealed inside steel.

It gathered in his chest.
At the center, the gem embedded in his torso began to grow—
expanding, brightening, pulsing with heat.
As if the entire body was rearranging itself around that one point.

His muscles locked.
Then began to shrink.
Little by little, the massive frame compressed inward, reshaping itself.
What had stood as a five-meter behemoth was shrinking—
refined down to a three-meter form,
still monstrous, but more humanoid.
And far more dangerous.

The cracks in his armor pulsed brighter.
With every surge, the heat around him thickened.

Then his voice shifted.
It grew clearer.
Sharper.
No longer echoing outward.
Its authority had full dominion over space.
Everyone in North America could hear him speak—
no matter how close or how far they were.

Now it resonated—deep, absolute.
“I am Kael’Dros.
The Obsidian Herald.
Conqueror of three realms.
I have held my title for five millennia.”

He stepped forward, and the weight in the air thickened.
“And I do not lose to half-borns.”

In a single motion, he vanished from the ground.
By the time the wind caught up, he was already high above the city—
black wings stretched wide against the fractured sky.

The Obsidian Herald had taken flight.

Obsidian scales covered every inch of him, overlapping like volcanic armor—
hardened by pressure, sharpened by time.
Across his limbs, crimson lines pulsed in sync with the core embedded in his chest—
a glowing red gem, molten at the center, beating like a heart that had never known softness.

His wings stretched wide.
Even. Symmetrical. Perfect.
Every movement precise. Every beat of wind beneath them deliberate.

His claws flexed as he hovered with his arms at ease, posture relaxed.
He wasn’t preparing to strike.
He wanted them to look up, feel the weight of him—
and understand they’d already lost.

Nova darted forward in a burst of flame.
Wings sliced through the smoke, tail whipping low behind her.
She circled once, then dove—claws out.

Kael’Dros shifted half a step.
That was enough.
He caught her mid-air.
One hand. Around her throat.

The impact sent a shockwave through the city.
Every remaining pane of glass shattered in an instant.
Windows, mirrors, storefronts—gone.
All at once.

Nova choked, kicking off his chest, forcing him to release. She flipped backward in mid-air, mouth igniting with demonic fire.

She exhaled.
A beam of black flame shot forward, streaked with violet light.
It hit dead center.
The street split behind him.
Ash turned to glass.

When the smoke cleared, he was still standing.
The cracks along his arms glowed brighter, each one pulsing with heat.

Kael’Dros looked down at her.
“Your fire’s prettier,” he said.
“But still weak.”

He vanished—nothing but a blur in the air.

Nova barely registered the movement before he was there.
Wings tight to his sides, his knee rocketed into her ribs.
The sound it made cut through the smoke like a gunshot.

Nova slammed into the side of a building, collapsing the entire structure on top of her.

She staggered out of the debris, coughing blood into her forearm.

Kael’Dros didn’t wait.
He grabbed her by the wing—
swung her through the air like dead weight,
and slammed her into the pavement with enough force to crack it wide open.

Once.
Twice.
A third time—
and the impact split Manhattan in two, tearing the island open around Central Park.

Nova tried to rise.
Her leg gave out beneath her.

Kael’Dros landed in front of her.
Wings flared wide.

“Why are you fighting for them?” he asked.
“You’re not human. You’re not even whole.”

His voice carried across the country.
To everyone still alive.
No matter how far.
No matter how deep they were hiding.
They all heard it.

She looked up.
Blood on her lips.
Eyes glowing—but unsteady.

“And what—you want me to stand by while you exterminate them?”
“The same way you did to my clan?”

Meanwhile, just beyond the wreckage, still close enough to feel the impact—
Jaden ducked behind a slab of shattered concrete, eyes locked on the battlefield.

“We have to help her,” he said.
“If she goes down, the whole world goes with her.”

Kenneth turned to him, wide-eyed.
“Are you insane?”
“What the hell are we supposed to do?”
“We’re human, Jaden. Just human.”

The ground was still shaking.
Somewhere out there, Nova was still fighting.

Jaden tightened his grip on the katana.
“Either way, we die,” he said.
“But I’m not sitting here while the world ends.”

He pushed off the rubble and ran.

Kenneth’s hand shot out.
“Jaden—wait!”

But Jaden didn’t slow.

Kenneth stood still, heart pounding.
Smoke rolled past his legs.
He knew his brother was right.
Even if it was stupid.
Even if it was suicide.

So he followed.

But while they ran, Kael’Dros was already preparing to end it.
He extended his claw.
The veins across his chest surged with light.
A low hum pulsed from deep inside his core.

In his palm, an obsidian spear took shape—
edges glowing red, thrumming with draconic mana.

“You could’ve been useful,” he said.
“But now…”

He raised the spear.

Jaden shouted, sword in hand.
“Leave us alone, you—monster!”

Kael’Dros turned, deadpan.
“I’m getting tired of you insects. Just die already.”

He grabbed the spear, aimed it at Jaden—
and threw.

Nova moved
but she was too far.
There was no time.

Behind them, Kenneth watched it all unfold.
He had just lost his sister an hour ago.
Now he was about to lose his brother.

And then—

everything went black.