The ground beneath them began to sink, unable to withstand the density of their power. Entire streets crumbled. Lava from the city's ruptured veins flooded upward, bathing the world in red light.
Cain straightened, the molten wind sweeping past him. Nebula hovered amid the storm of blades, hair whipping wildly, expression serene.
Neither spoke.
Then both moved — faster than before.
Their clash was no longer a battle; it was a natural disaster. Metal screamed as the air itself was torn apart by sound and heat. Each strike produced shockwaves that rolled for miles.
Cain's aura blazed gold; Nebula's shimmered with that strange, unstable silver.
And as they collided again — gold against silver — the city vanished into a single burst of white.
The explosion had not ended — it had only transformed.
What once was light became sound, a deafening pulse that rippled through the sky and cracked the atmosphere. The shockwave tore the clouds open, splitting night from day for a heartbeat.
