There was no sky.
No stars, no moon, no clouds. Only a vast, endless sheet of darkness stretching in every direction, as if the universe had been stripped of its lights and left with nothing but the empty, starless void.
In that void, two shapes hung suspended.
At first, they were only shadows against the abyss, faint outlines drifting in the stillness. Then light flickered—soft at first, like someone testing the edges of reality—and their forms became clearer.
The first figure burned in gold.
Lightning crawled over its body in thin, crackling veins, tracing the outline of a tall, lean form. It wore flowing golden cloth that never touched the windless air, yet moved as if responding to some distant current. The cloth wrapped around its chest and waist, bands of light that pulsed with each surge of power. A long sash trailed behind, glimmering like a comet's tail.
Its eyes were hidden behind a strip of cloth—a blindfold of shimmering gold that pressed smoothly across its face. From beneath the blindfold, the faintest glow seeped out, as if the light inside refused to be fully covered. Above its head, halos of fragmented light rotated slowly, like broken rings of a forgotten sun.
Opposite it, the second figure rippled into view.
Where the first was bright, this one was built from shadow. A dark purple aura seeped from its skin in coils, drifting around its body like smoke from an unseen fire. Its golden cloth was similar in shape—in the way it wrapped around limbs and torso—but the gold looked tarnished here, darker, as if stained by the power surrounding it. Faint streaks of violet ran through the fabric like dried ink.
It too wore a golden blindfold. The strip of cloth covered its eyes entirely, tied at the back of its head, trailing slightly in the darkness. Beneath it, the hint of faint, deep-violet light glowed—cold, distant, like the dim embers of a dying star.
They hovered there, facing one another in the static void, separated by a void that held no ground, no breath, no sound.
Then the space between them shivered.
The golden figure moved first.
A flicker—no more than a twitch of light—and suddenly it was gone from where it had floated, reappearing far closer in an instant. A streak of gold cut through the dark, trailing sparks that hung in the void before fading.
Golden lightning erupted from its outstretched hand, a jagged spear of pure light that split the darkness. It tore a path straight toward the other figure, humming with intense, focused energy.
The purple figure shifted only slightly.
Its hand rose, fingers relaxed, palm open.
The lightning slammed into an invisible point between them. The impact exploded outward in a blinding flash, ripples of force twisting and bending the nearby darkness like liquid. The golden spear fractured into thin lines that spread outward, trying to carve streaks into the void.
Dark purple energy leaked forward to meet it.
The second figure didn't block so much as receive. The purple aura thickened, rising from its body like a storm front. Where the lightning struck, the aura curled around it, enfolding it. Light and darkness twisted together—gold and violet, electric and smokelike—fighting for dominance in the unmoving air.
The golden power resisted, crackling angrily, trying to burn through the purple smog.
But the purple swallowed, dragged, dragged harder—and then drank it in completely.
Silence returned.
The golden figure lifted its other hand, lightning gathering once more around its fingers. It surged across its arms now, forming gauntlets of crackling light. Arcs of energy leapt from shoulder to shoulder like impatient blades trying to escape.
The purple figure tilted forward in the slightest of movements, aura flaring outward in slow waves.
The void trembled between them again.
The golden figure moved.
It shot forward, impossibly fast, leaving a trail of blinding arcs in its wake. Lightning bent beneath its feet, forming platforms of solid light to launch from, each one exploding behind it as it sprinted through the air. Gold streaked across the dark—forward, upward, then suddenly downward in a swift, controlled dive.
It reached the other figure in a breath.
A lightning-coated fist swung in a clean, vicious arc.
The purple figure shifted just enough. Its body leaned aside in a movement that barely seemed physical, as if its form blurred into its own aura and then back again. The punch missed by a fraction, carving a sharp crescent of light through the space where its head had just been.
The missed blow exploded behind them, lighting the void with a brief artificial dawn.
The golden figure did not pause.
Its second hand rose and slammed downward. Lightning condensed around its arm, thick and heavy, like a hammer made of storms. The strike descended in a brutal downward blow.
The purple figure lifted both arms.
Dark violet energy wrapped its limbs, condensing, hardening. Not light—something denser, like sharpened shadow. The blow landed, golden force meeting purple resistance in a violent collision.
The impact shuddered through the empty world.
Waves of distorted air rolled outward, warping the darkness. For a moment, it was as if the void tried to recoil, to pull away from the clash.
Golden lightning crawled over the purple aura, searing it in streaks. The purple energy wrapped around the lightning, trying to smother it, compress it.
The two forces fought like living things.
The golden figure pressed forward, muscles taut, lightning streaming from its shoulders and spine.
The purple figure stood firm, legs braced in midair, purple aura sharp and cutting, slicing the golden power into fragments.
The pressure broke.
Both were thrown backward, sliding through the air, leaving streaks of energy trailing behind them.
The golden figure flipped, twisting mid-flight, body controlled and fluid. It landed again on a platform of condensed lightning and skidded, sparks flying outward in a fan.
The purple figure rotated slowly as it drifted back, its aura cushioning the motion, then sharpened again. The void seemed to accept it, its energy blending into the darkness before flaring back up.
They hung there once more, across the unseen gulf, energies flaring.
The golden figure lifted its arms.
Lightning rose in answer.
It crackled across the void, forming circling patterns. Threads of light twisted into sigils that hovered around the golden being—rings layered with shifting lines, rotating slowly like celestial mechanisms. Each symbol pulsed, then connected to the next with a fine strand of energy, creating a lattice of golden geometry around it.
The light grew brighter.
The purple figure responded.
Its aura flowed outward like ink spreading in water, but there was a pattern within the apparent chaos. Thin lines of denser shadow formed, curving and intersecting, shaping themselves around its body. A second set of patterns emerged—jagged, sharp-edged symbols made of solid violet energy that rotated opposite to the golden ones across the void.
No wind. No sound.
Only light and shadow, carving their designs.
The golden figure's lattice snapped into alignment.
From the center of the pattern, a column of golden lightning poured downward, then out, then upward, spiraling around its body like a storm wrapping around its eye. The energy condensed along its arms, shoulders, legs—forming armor of pure electricity.
Pauldrons of light. Greaves forged from crackling arcs. A chestplate formed, lines dancing like rivers of bright fire.
The figure became a living conduit of golden power.
Opposite it, the purple figure's aura condensed.
The shadow drew inward, compressing closer, tighter, until it formed layers around its body like plates of smoothed, dark glass edged with violet. Thin slits of glowing purple ran along the armor, tracing lines like veins. Bits of the aura still escaped, drifting upward and downward in wisps, but the core of it clung to the being, dense and heavy.
It floated there, cloaked in layered shadow-armor, the blindfold still covering its eyes, the faint glow beneath it steady.
Again, they moved.
The golden figure vanished in a burst of light.
The purple one vanished in a blur of darkness.
They met in the space between—fists clashing, lightning-scars tearing open the void around them.
Golden strikes came in rapid bursts: jabs, hooks, elbows, each blow leaving a streak that lingered for a heartbeat before fading. Every movement was fast, clean, disciplined. Energy jumped from limb to limb, redistributing with every attack.
The purple figure answered with slower, heavier strikes. Each attack seemed to drag the darkness with it, making the void itself feel heavier where it moved. Its fists struck like falling pieces of the night sky—weighty, deliberate, crushing.
When fist met fist, the void fractured in bright-white sparks.
When kick met forearm, rings of distortion expanded across the air.
They fought without ground, yet every movement had weight.
The golden figure moved in striking lines, creating geometric patterns with its attacks. A punch to the chest flowed into a spin, into a downward heel, into a rising elbow—each step part of an invisible sequence.
The purple figure moved in arcs. Its body bent around each strike, twisting, flowing, its aura extending its reach like claws curving in from impossible angles. It redirected incoming force, absorbing it into its shadow armor, bleeding it out behind in streaming fragments of light.
The darkness shuddered.
The first fracture appeared.
It was faint—a thin, jagged line in the void, stretching outward from one of their violent exchanges. It glowed with no color, like a crack in the idea of space itself.
Then more appeared.
Everywhere they clashed, the void split for an instant, then sealed back up. The fractures spiderwebbed and vanished, leaving only the memory of their existence in the buzzing residue of energy.
The golden figure shifted tactics.
Lightning gathered at its feet.
In a single motion, it launched itself backward, hands spreading wide. The lattice of symbols around it brightened again, rotating faster.
The lightning surged downward this time, not to strike, but to form.
Lines of gold drew themselves into the darkness beneath its feet, creating a massive sigil far larger than the previous ones. It expanded rapidly, a circle stretching outward, carving its edges into the void. Inside, dozens of smaller lines intersected, flowing into each other.
The circle hung there, suspended, humming.
The purple figure mirrored the movement.
Its aura thickened and spilled down into the emptiness beneath it. Unlike the sharp precision of the golden sigil, its mark grew like a spreading stain. The dark purple energy expanded outward, forming layered rings of rough, jagged designs. The shapes were less orderly, but no less intentional—patterns that curved and recoiled, like claws coiling in for a strike.
The golden figure lifted both arms toward the dark.
Lightning flared from its shoulders and spine, shooting into the sigil below. The symbol answered, lighting up fully. Every line burned bright, every segment locked into place, forming a vast radiant circle beneath it.
The purple figure did the same.
Shadow poured from its arms, ankles, chest—seeping into the circle of dark patterns below. The sigil pulsed, then solidified, its edges sharp and serrated, its center thickened with rolling shadow.
The void around them dimmed, as if their powers stole what little light was left.
The golden circle reached its brightest point.
Energy inside began to move.
It shifted, rotated, folding in on itself in an elaborate sequence. Portions of the circle separated, rearranged—lines crossing over, under, forming spirals and shapes that had not been there moments before.
At its core, the light thickened, condensing into a single bright mass.
The purple circle changed as well.
Its layers rose and fell like tides, the jagged marks rearranging with each movement. The dark energy pooled toward the center, spiraling inward, gathering into a concentrated core—a dense heart of shadow wrapped in thin veins of violet.
The golden figure lowered one hand toward the rising core of light beneath it.
The purple figure extended one arm toward the dark heart forming below.
The cores answered.
From the golden circle, form emerged.
It rose from the light, stretching upward, long and sinewy. Scales of pure electricity layered over its length, shining with dazzling brilliance. A smooth, angular head formed, its eyes twin slits of fierce gold. The body coiled and curved, many times longer than the circle's diameter, yet somehow contained within its bounds.
A colossal serpent of lightning unfurled itself, made of crackling gold, its body fluid yet razor-edged, every movement cutting the dark.
The golden figure remained still, a calm center above its creation.
From the purple circle, another shape rose.
Wings were the first to form—vast, layered, feathered shapes made of dense shadow edged in violet. Each feather rippled like smoke, but stayed intact, defined, sharp. A powerful chest followed, then forelegs ending in talons of pure darkness. A beaked head took shape, eyes twin embers of violet fire.
Behind, a lion-like body settled, muscles sculpted from shadow, a tail curling upward in a serpentine arc.
A massive griffin of dark purple energy stood within the circle, its wings slowly extending outward, casting wide swaths of shade over the void.
The purple figure hovered above its summoned beast, aura steady and deep.
The void around them held its breath.
No wind. No air. No sound but the hum of power.
Above, the two masters hovered—one wrapped in golden lightning, the other in dense, violet shadow. Below them, their summoned beasts stood at full height, glaring at each other across the emptiness like ancient enemies meeting again after a long separation.
The lightning serpent coiled in a loose spiral, scales shimmering like molten metal. Electricity crawled over its length in restless lines, splitting and reconnecting in sharp arcs. Its eyes—two sharpened streaks of burning gold—narrowed on its opponent.
The shadow griffin spread its massive wings, each feather a curved blade of darkness edged in purple light. The wings stretched wide enough to eclipse the faint glow around them. Its lion-like body tensed, claws digging into nothing, finding purchase in an invisible ground. Violet fire simmered in its eyes, unwavering, predatory.
The serpent moved first.
It didn't rush. There was no wild leap, no mindless charge. Its body flowed forward in a controlled slide, winding through the air in long, sinuous curves. Lightning deepened along its spine, growing brighter, concentrating toward its head.
The griffin lowered its stance.
Its talons flexed, sending small ripples through the shadow beneath it. Its tail swayed once, slowly, like a cat testing its balance. Feathers rustled soundlessly. It watched the serpent with deadly attention, head tilted fractionally to track every motion.
The serpent drew back slightly, then struck.
It shot forward with terrifying speed—its long body snapping straight, scales flattening for tighter flight. The air around it warped from the sheer force of its passing. Its jaws opened, fangs made of lightning stretching out in a vertical flash toward the griffin's face.
The griffin twisted to the side.
Not a full dodge—just enough.
The serpent's head sliced past, close enough that the electric heat grazed the griffin's cheek, searing off a row of shadow-feathers in a burst of gold. They dissolved before they hit the air, turning into fragments of purple ember.
As the serpent passed, the griffin struck back.
Its right wing snapped forward like a blade. Every feather along its edge hardened, the wing flattening, forming an enormous cutting surface. It swept sideways, catching the serpent in mid-strike.
The impact sparked like colliding blades.
Lightning exploded off the serpent's scales where the wing connected, scattering golden shards across the void. The serpent's head snapped to the side, body bending sharply, coils rippling in a wave as it was deflected off its path.
But it didn't lose control.
It twisted with the motion, spinning through its own momentum, coiling midair into a spiral once more. Electricity gathered at intervals along its body like segmented rings, each one glowing brighter than the last.
The griffin flapped once.
The motion didn't produce wind—not in this space—but it did send a rippling shock through the surrounding shadow. Waves of dark energy rolled outward, expanding quickly, distorting the space between the monsters.
The serpent cut through the waves head-on.
They slammed against its scales, trying to slow it, but lightning flared in answer. Each dark ripple that hit melted into sparks, shredded into golden flecks that floated downward before fading.
The griffin rose higher, beating its wings again—slower this time, deliberate. Each movement carried heavy power, reinforcing the shadow beneath it, thickening it until it ran like liquid darkness.
The serpent slid directly into the thickening shadow-field, body glowing brighter as it moved. It coiled tighter, like a spring about to release. Power built up along its length, a storm ready to break.
The griffin struck downward.
It dropped from above, both front claws extended. Dark armor formed around each talon—a gauntlet of sharpened shadow encasing its forelimbs, glowing purple along the cracks.
The serpent uncoiled.
Energy detonated along its body in a cascading sequence—rings of lightning bursting one after another down its length, propelling it upward in a blinding vertical dash.
They met in the middle.
Claw against fanged maw. Shadow against forged light.
The serpent bit down—its jaws slamming shut around the griffin's armored forearms. Lightning poured from its teeth into the dark gauntlets in violent currents.
The griffin's claws crashed into the serpent's head and upper neck. The shadow-gauntlets sank in, compressing scale and light, forcing the serpent's face downward.
Electricity burned through the armor—golden cracks spreading along the black material. But the shadow did not break immediately. It held, resisting the electric assault.
The griffin's muscles locked. Its body tensed from the strength needed to keep the monster's jaws from closing completely around its arms.
The serpent's body knotted.
It wrapped itself further around the griffin—coils sweeping past wings, torso, legs—wrapping, tightening, segment by segment, until its long form constricted the griffin from all sides.
Lightning flared along the loops.
Each coil became a band of raging electric current, digging into the griffin's shadow-feathers, burning deep streaks into its sides.
The griffin roared without sound.
Its wings pressed against the serpent, straining against the tightening hold. Each feather burned where it touched the scales, sizzling in bright arcs, dissolving into fragments that reformed seconds later, only to burn again.
The serpent squeezed harder.
Golden cracks spidered along the griffin's armored forearms as the lightning bit deeper. Its fangs pulsed with energy, pouring continuous force into the points of contact.
The griffin's head snapped forward.
Its beak slammed into the serpent's eye. Instead of blood, a spray of bright particles burst outward—an explosion of fragmented light.
The serpent recoiled, loosening its grip for a fraction of a second, coils shuddering.
It didn't scream. It had no true voice in this space. But the sudden jolt of its body said enough.
The griffin seized the opening.
Its hind legs lashed out.
Claws—sharpened, dark, long—tore into the serpent's underside, raking along the softer segments. Where they struck, the lightning scales shattered like brittle glass. Broken light fell away, spiraling downward in glowing arcs before dissolving.
The serpent twisted again, relying on its length and flexibility.
It loosened its upper coils and unwound, not entirely letting go, but repositioning. Its body flowed backward, freeing the griffin's torso while still keeping part of its length coiled around one wing and hind leg, maintaining a partial hold.
As it slid away, it spat light.
A concentrated blast of lightning shot from its open maw, aimed at the griffin's chest.
The griffin's wings snapped inward.
They crossed in front of its body like crossing shields, shadow-feathers overlapping tightly. The blast hit the makeshift barrier head-on, exploding in a dome of golden static.
The feathers seared, dark edges burning white where the lightning struck hardest. Layers disintegrated under the force, disintegrating into streaks of ash-like shadow that drifted and reformed further back along the wing span.
The griffin pushed the wings outward mid-blast.
The expanding motion redirected the lightning around its body, bending the stream so that it sliced around the edges, carving long scars into the void behind instead of punching straight through.
The serpent cut off the stream, eyes narrowing.
Its damaged eye reformed slowly—a bright, swirling patch of light collecting at the sunken spot, coalescing, solidifying into a new glowing slit.
Its coils glimmered with renewed power as electricity raced over the lost patches of scale, regenerating surface armor in streaks.
The griffin's wings opened fully again.
This time, they did not spread wide in a horizontal plane. They stretched upward and downward, forming a giant vertical cross, every feather extended to its full length.
Violet lines sparked between them.
The air rippled.
The griffin moved its wings like blades—not to slice, but to conduct.
Energy surged down from its upper feathers, funneling through its body, moving into its legs, then out through its claws. The shadow beneath it thickened again, pooling under its talons in a swirling vortex.
A torrent of purple force exploded outward from its claws, shooting straight for the serpent—a jagged beam more solid than light, more like liquid darkness poured at high speed.
The serpent coiled around itself once more.
This time it stacked its coils vertically, forming a spinning helix in front of the beam. Lightning swirled along the spiral—concentrated, explosive, forming a rotating barrier of crackling arcs.
The beam hit the rotating lightning.
Dark force and golden current collided, grinding against each other in a searing clash. The beam dug in, attempting to bore a hole through the barrier.
The helix of light fought back, spinning faster, chopping at the dark energy in layers. Fragments of shadow shattered off the beam in chunks, flying sideways, ripping small wounds in the void where they passed.
Higher above, the two masters moved as extensions of the battle below.
The golden master raised one hand, guiding the serpent's movement with subtle gestures. Each rotation of the helix matched tiny rotations of his wrist. Lightning jumped between his fingertips and the serpent's body, linking them like a tether.
The purple master's fingers flexed as if pulling invisible threads. Every movement of the griffin—every wing tilt, every claw strike—mirrored those motions. Shadow ran up his arms and seeped off his shoulders in faint trails that descended into the beast.
Below, the stalemate continued for several long seconds.
Then the serpent shifted its strategy again.
It stopped spinning.
The helix flattened, stretching outward like a shield. Instead of blocking the beam at a single point, it spread the force across a broader surface area. Lightning arced outward from the edges, looping back and lashing at nearby empty space.
The beam thinned as it traveled forward, widening under its own strain. Its concentrated core remained strong, but the edges fractured, scattering into smaller streams.
The serpent's shield flared, drinking in the scattered portions like a storm cloud absorbing stray sparks.
The core of the beam finally punched through, slowed but not fully broken. It pierced a layer of the lightning shield, carving a tunnel into it, and surged toward the serpent's exposed center.
The serpent snapped its body sideways.
The beam tore past, grazing its torso. Where it passed, it ripped a long, jagged hole through coils of golden energy—sections of the serpent's body disappearing in an instant, then trying to reform.
Gaps of flickering emptiness blinked along its length, like pieces erased from a drawing.
But the serpent used the motion to its advantage.
It launched itself along the path of the recoiling beam, surfing the wake it left behind. Its body compressed into a tight spear, lightning condensed around its head and neck, forming a piercing point.
The griffin raised its wings again, bringing them forward as a shield—
The serpent struck between them.
Its lightning-forged body slipped through a narrow opening, forcing its way past the barrier of feathers. Golden arcs scraped shadow as it passed, carving furrows.
The serpent's head shot past the griffin's guard, stopping inches from its chest.
Then it exploded.
Not literally—but its energy burst outward from that concentrated point, unleashing a shockwave of lightning in all directions. Instead of a blast directed outward, spikes of electricity stabbed into the griffin's body like dozens of small spears.
Every impact sank in. The griffin's armor cracked in multiple places.
Its torso rippled under the shock, lines of disruption racing through its form. Pieces of its chest armor fractured and floated away before dispersing. Sigils of shadow protection flared briefly along its body, absorbing some of the damage, but many simply shattered under the strain.
The griffin's wings faltered for a moment.
The serpent took that moment.
It wrapped its entire length around the griffin once more—but this time higher, locking down the wings tightly against its sides. Coils secured both wings in a vice-like squeeze, preventing another full spread.
Lightning surged through every coil.
The griffin's body became a cage for that current, the force racing along feathers, sinking into the shadow underneath, burning channels through the dark.
Its claws flexed, digging into empty space.
Then it pushed back.
Shadow surged outward from within.
From every wound that lightning had torn, purple energy erupted—not as a defensive barrier, but as spikes. The griffin forced its power outward through the serpent's coils in reverse, sending dozens of concentrated lances of shadow stabbing into the golden scales from the inside out.
Each spike stabbed a coil, puncturing the serpent in multiple places. Energy leaked from its form like bright vapor, streaming from the holes.
The serpent loosened its hold involuntarily.
The griffin forced its wings apart.
They tore through coils and shadow-spikes alike, ripping free. Feathers scattered, burning and reforming mid-flight. The monster's full wingspan opened once more, slamming outward with renewed strength.
The motion flung the serpent away.
The long lightning-body lashed as it was thrown aside, segments twisting into unnatural angles before righting themselves. Fractures along its length sealed slowly, golden light weaving back into closed shapes.
The griffin didn't give it time to fully recover.
It dove.
A simple descent at first, then suddenly accelerated, leaving a trail of violet afterimages behind. Its claws extended again, this time not reinforced with bulky gauntlets, but sharpened to needle-fine points of condensed shadow.
It struck the serpent mid-twist.
Claws sank into glowing scales, digging deep, tearing three long gashes through the length of its upper body. Lightning flared bright—as if screaming silently—and spilled out, trailing like bleeding photons.
The serpent retaliated by snapping back with a whip-like motion, tail lunging upward.
The tail struck the griffin's side.
Feathers burst in a spray, scattering like dark knives. A dent formed in the griffin's torso, its form flickering for a second, destabilized where the impact landed.
Both beasts separated, drifting away from each other.
They hovered across from one another again, bodies damaged, but neither fading. Lightning crackled unevenly along the serpent's form, some segments flickering dimmer than others. The griffin's chest and side showed fractures in its shadow-armor, lines of internal light leaking through the cracks.
Behind them, their masters adjusted their stances.
The golden master raised both arms, gathering more lightning into himself. Thin streams of energy from the surrounding void were drawn toward him, sucked into his form, then fed downward into the serpent.
The purple master spread both hands slowly to his sides.
The darkness around him bowed inward, pooling closer, thickening. Just as the serpent was reinforced with fresh lightning, the griffin was wrapped in denser shadow, filling the fractures, strengthening its core.
For a moment, both monsters stilled.
Then they moved at once.
The serpent rose higher and began to spiral downward in a tightened, controlled dive. Its body compressed into a swirling cone of light, spinning so fast it blurred—forming a massive drill of lightning descending from above.
The griffin opened its wings wide.
Shadow collected along the leading edges, condensing until the wing arcs became jagged weapons. Its talons clenched and then loosened, power flowing into its claws, extending them into long, curved blades. It crouched in the air, preparing like a predator ready to leap.
They charged.
The serpent dove—a roaring column of gold cutting toward the dark.
The griffin soared upward—a streak of purple force propelling it like a fired arrow.
In the background, their masters didn't rush, but advanced toward each other as well. The golden one walked forward calmly, each step pulling more light from the void. The purple one glided, his aura spreading outward, his path marked by a trail of deepened shadow.
The focus, however, remained on the beasts.
The distance closed in a heartbeat.
The serpent unfurled at the last moment, its head striking forward, the cone of light at its front sharpening into a piercing point.
The griffin drew its wings inward, then slung them forward like twin cleavers, both wings angled for a cross-cut. Its claws swung upward at the same time, aimed to catch and deflect.
Lightning met shadow in a blinding collision.
The serpent's piercing strike crashed into the griffin's upward slash.
The griffin's wing-blades and claw-blades smashed into the serpent's spiral cone.
The result was not a simple impact.
It was a detonation.
Light exploded outward in all directions—rays of gold bursting through veins of violet, shooting across the void like spears. The point where the two monsters met became a blinding sphere of conflicting power, swirling violently.
A concentric ring of force rippled outward from the impact point.
It expanded, faster and faster, growing wider until it encompassed the entire battlefield. The masters above were eclipsed by the wave, their forms turning into silhouettes carved into light as the shock spread.
The void itself rippled like disturbed water.
Far below, in the broken world beneath the starless sky—among ruined cities, empty streets, and shattered windows—
the shockwave reached.
Glass trembled in old buildings.Cracks in weakened walls widened.Shards fell from fractured windows, raining down onto deserted roads.
Loose debris rattled, then dropped in small avalanches from leaning structures and crumbling facades.
The humans below did not know what caused it.
They only felt a tremor…and heard the distant echo of a sky they could not see, and far beyond their reach had swung weapons across the bones of heaven.
Its tremor whispered across empty plains, crumbling ruins, and barren soil.
And in the middle of a wasteland where death had long replaced life—
something stirred.
A faint green glow pulsed on the cracked earth.
In the center of that glow lay a girl.
Her long black hair fanned across the ground like spilled ink, strands shimmering faintly against the dull, lifeless soil. Her eyelids fluttered, then slowly rose, revealing eyes unlike anything left in the ruined world—
green.
Clear, bright, alive.
She exhaled softly, the breath brushing past her lips like a tiny breeze. She pushed her palms against the ground to rise—
—and froze.
She wasn't lying on sand.
Not decayed dirt.
Not ash.
Grass.
Fresh, vibrant grass—soft as silk, green as spring. It rustled beneath her fingers, each blade shimmering faintly with an inner light. The scent of life rose around her, warm and soothing, clean and impossible.
But only beneath her.
Her body lay in a perfect circle of living grass, no wider than a few meters.
Outside the circle, the world remained dead—gray, cracked earth stretching into the horizon. It was like her presence alone was a spring trapped inside a desert.
She lifted a single blade with trembling fingers.
Alive.
Real.
Her green eyes widened, reflecting the impossible life in her hands.
"…It's happening again," she whispered, voice soft but steady. "The order… it's starting to fall."
A breeze—real or imagined—brushed past her hair.
Far away, faint but unmistakable, the shockwave from the heavens quivered again.
The dead grass outside her circle trembled.
The girl slowly stood, long hair cascading down her back, shimmering black against the thin moonless sky. Her bare feet pressed into the living earth as if the grass grew beneath each step she took.
She tilted her head upward, gaze sharpening.
Up beyond the dark clouds.
Beyond the dead sky.
Beyond human sight.
The fighting had begun.
And she could feel every tremor of it.
Her pupils narrowed.
"The seals are breaking," she murmured. "And they are already moving too soon…"
A final blade of grass wilted in her fingers as she released it, falling dark and shriveled.
The green circle beneath her dimmed slightly, as if sensing her rising tension.
She closed her eyes briefly, listening to something ancient, something distant, something no longer quiet.
"…Balance won't hold, not at this rate."
Then her green eyes reopened—glowing faintly, like embers waiting for wind.
She looked upward again.
Far above her, beyond the realm of mortals, the two divine beings clashed once more.
High Above — The Fight Continues
The golden lightning crashed downward again, streaking across the darkness like a falling star. The serpent twisted free of the griffin's claws, sparks flying from its battered scales. Its body glowed with burning fractures, bright fissures that pulsed with unstable energy.
The griffin recovered midair, massive wings beating silently as the violet fire along its feathers intensified. Its talons gleamed with renewed shadow, sharper, more solid, strengthened by its master's will.
Both monsters circled through the endless void, leaving trails of light and darkness in their wake—two comets spinning around the unseen battlefield.
Behind them, their masters advanced again.
The golden figure leapt once more, lightning trailing behind like shredded banners of a forgotten god. His blindfold flashed with thin slits of brilliance, as if light was trying to escape his eyes.
The purple figure mirrored him, steps silent, aura heavy. The blindfold over his eyes rippled with darkening energy, hints of violet flame crackling across its edges.
Lightning clashed with shadow.
Serpent collided with griffin.
Golden jaws snapped at shadowed wings.
Violet talons slashed through glowing coils.
Broken fragments of both light and darkness rained around them, evaporating before they touched anything.
No moon watched.
No stars gleamed.
Only the two divine beings continued their battle across the night sky—
their monsters locked in endless combat,
their power shaking the heavens,
their silent war echoing across both realms.
And below, the girl with green eyes lifted her face toward the chaos above, her expression unreadable as the grass beneath her feet slowly wilted again.
The night sky trembled.
The battle raged on.