The impact came.
It did not echo like the previous strikes.
It did not explode with a thunderous sound that shook the land.
It ended everything.
Clay's fist drove forward, and the moment it connected, the Warchief's body lost all resistance. The violent force that had once surged through him vanished in an instant, like a flame that had been snuffed out without warning. His head snapped back, his entire form going limp, the terrifying presence that had filled the battlefield disappearing as though it had never existed.
There was no second exchange.
No retaliation.
No last stand.
The Warchief died just like that.
Silence followed.
A deep, suffocating silence that spread across the battlefield, heavier than any explosion that had come before. The broken ground, the cracked walls, the scattered debris, everything seemed to freeze in place as the reality of what had just happened settled into the minds of those who witnessed it.
Clay lowered his arm.
