Azeroth stood unmoving amid the fading void flame, vast and unshakable, his presence pressing down on the empty white like a living law.
The black fire clawed at his fused body, trying to wrap around him, trying to seal and erase him as it had done before.
It failed. The flames slid away without resistance, as though they were brushing against an unchangeable truth, unable to leave behind even the faintest mark.
At the beginning of this battle, Azeroth had never doubted the outcome. Even when Reynold revealed himself as a once-in-an-era genius, even when he forcefully stepped into a false celestial state that defied the natural order, Azeroth had believed the end would remain the same.
A mortal, no matter how gifted, should have been crushed beneath his authority without effort.
Reality had proven otherwise.
