Boom!
Bang!
Boom!
In a starry realm, two figures of light flashed back and forth as countless explosions erupted—each one powerful enough to destroy a planet.
No, not just one.
The clash between these two beings could have obliterated multiple ordinary worlds.
And yet, neither yielded.
Of course, Gaia herself would remain untouched.
The air trembled.
The ground beneath them cracked and compressed as shockwaves rippled outward.
Aetherion and Pallas faced one another.
Aetherion wielded a blade forged from stars—no, from multiple stars compressed into the shape of a sword.
Every swing carried the force of a nova, each strike threatening to tear reality apart.
White flame cloaked his form: the heat of stars itself, terrifying and absolute.
Pallas refused to let that flame touch him—he knew that even a graze could cost him an arm… or worse.
But Pallas was no less fearsome.
His spear burned with a raging, crimson flame—an inferno born of wrath and an endless thirst for war.
He was not merely war incarnate.
He was Warcraft itself: knowledge, tactics, discipline, and calculation woven into every movement.
And unlike a berserker, Pallas was not reckless.
He thrust forward, splitting the horizon itself and couple of stars in his way.
Aetherion countered with sweeping horizontal slashes, each one detonating across the realm.
Gravity bent as Aetherion manipulated gravity itself, pulling Pallas toward him before driving a blade straight toward his heart.
Pallas reacted instantly, redirecting the strike with his spear.
But before the counter could land, Aetherion vanished.
In his place—only a star.
Aetherion reappeared above Pallas's head, but Pallas anticipated it and twisted away.
Still, Aetherion used the momentum, driving a brutal kick into his stomach.
"Tch—so annoying!"
Pallas growled as he was sent flying, ichor dripping at the corner of his lips.
It was infuriating.
The enemy before him had grown far stronger—reading every movement, closing off every path a warrior might take.
Aetherion moved freely, yet deliberately, as if he already knew every technique Pallas would attempt.
As Pallas steadied himself, he remembered Aetherion's words.
'But I believe I can defeat you within that time.'
The more he thought about it, the more terrifyingly plausible it seemed.
No.
He refused to accept it.
"I refuse,"
Pallas roared, rage spilling from his voice.
"I refuse to be defeated by a boy like you!"
Aetherion's gaze turned cold.
He raised his sword.
Gravity warped around the blade as white starlight and flame ignited along its edge.
[Star Domain: Starry Doom.]
Pallas answered instantly.
Divine energy surged into his spear as flames coiled violently around it.
[Warcraft Domain: Fury Flame!]
Their attacks collided.
BOOM!
The explosion shattered the realm.
Light and flames consumed everything.
Pallas staggered, vision blinded.
He twisted his head, searching—
Pain exploded through his leg.
A blade of pure starlight had pierced it.
He leapt back, breathing hard, eyes locking onto Aetherion—who stood calmly, smiling as if nothing were wrong.
"What… is happening?"
Pallas muttered.
Then he noticed them.
Those eyes.
Eyes that seemed to see through everything.
'Those eyes…'
'He wasn't even taking me seriously before.'
Realization struck.
Aetherion had been holding back.
The seals.
The covered eyes.
A bitter smile formed on Pallas's face.
'I can't defeat him in a prolonged fight.'
He was too much of threat to Kronos.
Too dangerous to ignore.
'How arrogant I've been,'
Pallas thought grimly.
But then another realization followed.
The stars.
'The stars show the path… the path ahead…'
Crius had spoken of this before.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
"This monster…"
Pallas whispered, forcing himself upright.
"He's still growing in the middle of the fight."
Before he could think further, Aetherion spoke—his voice calm, mocking, sharp.
"Hm. Is that all you have, Great Titan?"
The words cut deep.
Rage boiled over.
"You bastard!"
Pallas, burning with rage, observed Aetherion's form and attack patterns, desperately searching for a counter.
The two exchanged relentless blows, their weapons clashing again and again, each impact detonating into violent explosions.
Aetherion appeared calm—almost relaxed—while Pallas burned hotter with every second.
A vertical slash came down, meant to cleave Aetherion in half.
Pallas dodged downward at the last moment and swept his spear across Aetherion's leg.
It connected, throwing Aetherion off balance.
Pallas seized the opening and thrust his spear forward—
—but only a star remained.
Aetherion reappeared several meters away, standing calmly, a faint smile on his face.
That was the last straw.
Pallas charged.
"Can you stay still, you annoying brat?"
he snarled, irritation dripping from his voice.
"Not really,"
Aetherion replied casually.
They collided again.
Pallas's mind raced.
He needed a strategy—something that could work.
Aetherion was too fast, adapting constantly, reading his moves, making him harder to catch with every exchange.
Pure force wouldn't work.
Then Pallas made a decision.
A sacrifice.
His leg was already failing, blood—ichor—still leaking as it struggled to regenerate faster.
Moving had become difficult, his pace lagging far behind Aetherion's.
Cuts covered his body, growing more numerous with each exchange.
Then—an idea.
Aetherion thrust toward Pallas's heart once more.
This time, Pallas didn't fully evade.
He twisted just enough to let the blade carve into his shoulder instead.
Aetherion's eyes widened in surprise as Pallas stepped forward, letting the wound deepen—
—and struck back.
Pallas's spear thrust down into Aetherion's shoulder, drawing a sharp cry from him as the spear pierced through.
"You crazy bastard,"
Aetherion hissed, staring at the wound.
"I have to be,"
Pallas replied, grinning like a madman.
"To defeat a monster like you."
Aetherion stared at him.
Then his smile widened—slowly, dangerously.
"So be it,"
he said.
"Let's see who dies first."
They clashed again.
Pallas continued to offer his body, sacrificing flesh for openings.
His wounds regenerated slowly, painfully.
Aetherion, for the first time, began to take real damage.
Yet even in his divine form, Aetherion healed faster.
His Life Domain and Nature Domain reinforced his body, granting him regeneration far superior to most immortals—even now in his divine form.
The battle dragged on.
Blood was shed.
Sacrifices were made.
Yet neither fell.
Would fate favor Pallas—or abandon him before the Fateless One?
No one knew.
Not even Ananke.
And so the battle continued—awaiting the victor between two titans.