A storm doesn’t ask permission. It arrives. So did he.

The wind was wrong.

Kael stood still among the fractured trees near the old temple ruins, the dying light of dusk brushing his face. The silence wasn’t peaceful — it was waiting. Lux hovered beside him, a flicker of gold in the fading world. Rin stepped close, eyes tense.

“You feel it, don’t you?” she asked.

Kael’s gaze didn’t move. “He’s near.”

And then, like a ghost born from regret, Vael appeared — hands behind his back, eyes sharper than any blade. He looked untouched by time. Unbothered by consequence.

“You’ve changed,” Vael said softly. “Let’s see how much.”

The clash didn’t begin with words — it began with intent.

In the open field, under a sky heavy with unspoken truths, Kael unsheathed his blade. A breath. A heartbeat. Time cracked.

Vael lifted a single finger — and the world shivered.

Their auras ignited.

One flame. One frost.

Brother against brother.

Memory against purpose.

Steel screamed through the air. Kael struck hard, but Vael was faster, slipping through moments like water through fingers. He bent time. He rewrote seconds. Kael barely kept up, breath ragged, feet dragging lines into the earth.

Each clash was a question. Each block, a cry.

“Why did you leave?”

“Why did you let them die?”

“Why am I still chasing you?”

Blood. Kael staggered.

A cut on his arm burned deep. Vael moved with effortless cruelty, striking not to kill — but to remind. You’re not enough.

The world slowed. Kael’s knees hit the ground.

Time twisted.

Vael came forward — ready to finish it.

And in that moment, Kael refused. Not with words. With fire.

His eyes blazed. His mark erupted.

Shadow Flame ignited. But it didn’t consume him — not this time.

Black fire coiled around his limbs like armor, glowing with violet veins. His voice, guttural, raw:

“This time… it’s mine.”

Vael paused. For the first time, surprise cracked his calm.

Then — his own aura exploded. A vortex of deep blue and silver shattered the ground beneath them. Time bent. Reality trembled.

And they met again.

Now, equal.

Every strike was thunder.

Every movement tore the sky.

They weren’t fighting to win. They were fighting to prove what they had become.

Kael roared.

He channeled everything — pain, rage, resolve — into one final slash.

The blade ignited in black-purple fury.

Trial Flame Blade.

He leapt.

Vael looked up — and took the hit full in the chest.

Light exploded.

Smoke. Silence.

Both fell to the ground, breathless, trembling. Blood traced the corner of Kael’s lips. Vael, kneeling, touched the scorched wound on his chest — and smirked.

“You’re better than I hoped,” he said between sharp breaths. “Good. Because next time… I won’t hold back.”

And just like that — he vanished into the night.

Far away, in the dark halls of the Umbral Citadel, the Dark Nobles watched through a mirror of smoke.

“He survived,” one whispered.

“The trial has begun,” said another.

“Let the flame burn. For now.”

Kael stood alone.

Chest heaving. Heart racing. Power still flickering at his fingertips.

But for the first time… he didn’t feel lost in it.

He owned it.

FADE TO BLACK.