Kaelith's blade sang downward, cleaving through arcs of thunder and echo—but Leon did not meet it directly.
Instead, the Fifth Pulse flexed.
Fracture Requiem twisted the rhythm of that sovereign strike, breaking it into three overlapping impacts—the first crashing against Leon's raised guard, the second scattering like dust into the arena floor, the third vanishing mid-swing, stolen into silence.
Kaelith's brow arched—not in shock, but in delight.
Leon didn't waste the stolen beat. His own counterstrike lanced forward, Abyss Mana sharpened into a spiral spear. It thrust not for Kaelith's chest, but for the resonance in his Core—where the rhythm of a Throne faltered by the smallest fraction.
The Sovereign twisted, war-glaive intercepting, sparks fountaining in a storm of gold and void.
And yet the spear still kissed through the defense, grazing Kaelith's side. A streak of Sovereign ichor burned into the air before evaporating in a flare of heat.
