Night had fallen heavy over the Umbral Walls. The sky glowed faintly with the memory of fire, and the wind carried a scent like ash that refused to die. Before the gates of the enemy stronghold, two figures stood where no army would dare—Kael and Vael. Brothers divided by fate, united now by necessity.

The Dark Commander awaited them. Towering, armored in obsidian plates that shifted like liquid stone, he radiated power that pressed against the earth itself. His weapon was no single blade—it was a construct of shifting shadow, constantly re-forging itself into whatever shape the battle demanded. When he spoke, the ground trembled.

“You brought hope,” he said, his voice echoing like a cavern collapsing. “I brought ruin.”

Kael’s grip tightened around his sword. His eyes blazed, but his voice was calm. “Let’s see whose resolve burns brighter.”

---

The first clash was thunder. The Commander’s weapon slammed down, warping between axe, spear, and blade. Kael met it with fire, his Shadow Flame igniting in controlled bursts. Vael danced between the edges of time, slowing each devastating strike just long enough for Kael to answer. Together, they struck with rhythm, brothers at war not with each other, but with the void itself.

But the Commander was unlike any foe they had faced. He learned them as they moved. His weapon adapted, bending around Kael’s flame, slipping between Vael’s fractures of time. Cuts opened along Kael’s arms, blood sizzling against his own fire. Vael staggered under the sheer pressure, sweat dripping as he bent time to its breaking point.

The battle became a symphony of ruin. Flames roared, shadows screamed, time cracked in jagged echoes. The ground beneath them was no longer stone but glass, fractured and glowing from the heat of their clash.

---

Kael faltered. The Commander’s blade—now a spear—drove into his shoulder, pinning him against the scorched earth. Pain ripped through him, the Shadow Flame inside clawing to be unleashed. His vision swam. For a moment, he saw the boy he once was, alone in the ruins of silence. He heard the voice of every scream that had ever been swallowed by shadow.

No, he thought. Not this time.

His flame surged. Not wild, not consuming—chosen. His body erupted in a blaze so bright it turned the night into day. He tore the spear free, eyes glowing with the fury of a vow. “This ends with us—standing or scorched!”

Vael smirked through blood and exhaustion, his aura bending time tighter around them both. “Then let’s make it count.”

---

Together they struck again. Kael’s flame spiraled into a white-hot inferno, his Trial Flame Spiral reaching its purest form. Vael answered with Chrono Break, every second stretched and broken, each strike layered upon itself. Their auras intertwined—flame and time converging into something neither had mastered but both embraced.

The Commander roared, his armor cracking under the combined assault. Still, he endured, his void weapon thrashing, lashing against the firestorm and the fractured river of time. The world itself seemed to scream, torn between collapse and creation.

And then—impact. A blinding explosion of light and shadow consumed the battlefield, shaking the walls of the Umbral fortress. The Commander’s form buckled, obsidian plates shattering like brittle glass. His weapon dissolved into smoke. For the first time, his knees touched the earth.

---

Far away, on a ridge overlooking the battlefield, three figures felt the shockwave. Riven’s hand tightened on the hilt of his blade, his scar burning like a warning. Kaen’s fire flared uncontrollably, eager for war. Thalos closed his eyes, sensing a presence greater than even this Commander.

“That wasn’t thunder,” Kaen muttered.

“No,” Thalos said, his voice grave. “That was a presence. One we were never meant to sense.”

Riven’s cold gaze turned south, toward the deserted city where shadows gathered thicker than night. “And now that we’ve felt it,” he said, “we answer.”

The three exchanged a single look—then turned, moving with the certainty of men who knew they walked toward death.

---

Back at the battlefield, Kael stood panting, his flame flickering, his resolve unbroken. Vael steadied himself beside him, blood painting his jaw but a faint smirk still on his lips. The Commander’s body crumbled into ruin, his shadow dispersing into the wind.

For a moment, silence reigned. Then Kael raised his head to the fortress looming ahead. He knew the truth: this was no victory. This was the opening of a greater war.

And above them, unseen by mortal eyes, the Nobles stirred.