The throne hall was no longer a place of royalty.
It had become a battlefield between heaven and ruin.
Aster stood at one end, his blackened starlight bleeding across the floor like living ink.
Erian stood opposite him, his aura bright and sharp, threads of silver-blue weaving around his hands like blades of fate.
The space between them shimmered — light and shadow colliding without touch, bending reality in trembling waves.
Lyra's voice echoed faintly. "Stop, please… you're the same light!"
Neither of them heard her.
They moved.
In an instant, the hall exploded with force. Erian's body blurred forward, his hand slicing through the air. Aster met him mid-step, catching the strike with a burst of obsidian flame. Sparks scattered like shooting stars.
"You've grown stronger," Aster said, his tone cold but almost proud.
"You've grown wrong," Erian replied.
The words hit harder than any attack.
Aster's smile faltered, and the world answered with thunder.
Above them, the Black Sun trembled as cracks began to appear in its dark core. Each fracture released streams of energy that poured into both men — twin rivers feeding opposite sides of creation.
Their next clash split the marble beneath their feet.
Each movement was a storm: Aster's dark light burned like chaos incarnate, while Erian's silver glow cut through it with ruthless precision.
At one point, their hands collided, and a shockwave blasted the walls apart. The once-glorious pillars crumbled, and the distant city could see the radiance tearing through the night sky.
From far away, it looked like two stars colliding in slow motion.
Lyra forced herself to her feet, fighting the pressure that made the air thick as lead.
Every pulse of their power shredded her senses, yet she refused to look away.
She could feel it — their pain beneath the clash, their fear of losing one another.
And then she saw it.
A faint scar glowed along Aster's chest — the same mark Erian once healed months ago when the curse of the Veil nearly killed him.
Her eyes widened. "That's the anchor! The starlight hasn't left you completely!"
Erian hesitated mid-strike. His eyes flickered, doubt breaking through the fury. "What?"
That moment of pause was enough.
Aster's hand shot forward, and black light impaled the floor beneath Erian's feet, binding him with celestial chains.
"You should've finished it," Aster said softly, walking toward him. His steps were silent, regal. "Mercy is what always destroys you."
Erian struggled, the chains cutting into his arms. "And what are you without mercy, Aster? Just another god who forgot how to bleed?"
Something in Aster's eyes shifted. For a second, the darkness wavered. He saw flashes — Erian smiling under the night sky, Erian's hand brushing his cheek in the ruins, Erian whispering his name when no one else dared.
He hesitated. Just for a breath.
And Erian used it.
A burst of silver light erupted, breaking the chains and knocking Aster backward. The world tilted — gravity, time, and breath itself seemed to collapse.
Erian's aura expanded, wrapping the entire hall in a dome of shimmering starlight. The sigils on his skin glowed like constellations reborn.
He raised his hand, and the stars above responded.
"Forgive me," he whispered, his voice breaking. "If this is what it takes to save you—"
A column of light descended from the heavens, swallowing Aster whole.
The palace trembled. The Black Sun cracked completely, shards of darkness raining across the empire.
Every creature — human, beast, or divine — lifted their eyes as the night itself screamed.
Lyra covered her face, shouting, "Erian! Stop! You'll erase him!"
But the light did not stop.
Through the blinding radiance, Erian could see Aster — motionless, his hand reaching forward as if to touch him. His lips moved, but no sound came.
Then, everything went white.
When the world settled, Erian was alone.
The hall was gone — only ruins remained, soaked in moonlight and ash.
He fell to his knees, the air trembling around him. His voice was hoarse, his chest heavy. "Aster…"
But there was no answer. Only the soft echo of the wind and the faint shimmer of a single black feather resting at his feet.
He reached out and picked it up. The feather pulsed once — a faint heartbeat.
Then, silence.
Far above, beyond the veil of the heavens, a figure drifted in endless night. His body glowed faintly with fractured light, torn between silver and black.
Aster opened his eyes slowly, gazing down at the distant world. His voice was a whisper.
"So this is what it means to fall…"
His hand tightened, and a single tear of starlight escaped — falling toward the world below.
The moment it touched the earth, the Black Sun flickered back to life.