As they soared, Eiden clung tightly to the streak of green light tearing upward through the night. The world below shrank into a patchwork of dark plains and dead grass, the distant battlefield reduced to a jagged scar beneath the moon. The higher they rose, the thinner the air became—cold, sharp, and almost metallic. The wind roared past them, whipping Eiden's hair into a frenzy as he held on, refusing to let Yajin slip away.
When they reached a height where the ground looked no larger than a coin, the pillar of light finally unraveled. It dissolved into drifting particles, scattering like fireflies over a vast expanse of lifeless grass far below. Yajin's silhouette solidified in midair first, with Eiden materializing beside him; both were suspended for a heartbeat before gravity reclaimed them.
They plummeted. Wind howled around their bare chests as they descended. Eiden reached for the longsword at his lower back and slid it beneath the metal sleeve on his right glove. The blade locked into place with a muted click, fitting perfectly against his forearm. With his free hand, he unsheathed his katana, its edge catching the moonlight as they fell.
Yajin glanced sideways at him, hair whipping wildly. "You eager to kill me or something?" he called out, his voice steady despite the terminal velocity. "I guarantee you, I won't die easily."
"I plan on killing you with all I've got," Eiden replied, his eyes fixed on the rushing earth.
Yajin grinned. "Alright then."
The earth surged upward and they struck like meteors. A thunderous impact shook the plains, sending a wide ring of dust and dead grass exploding outward. The shockwave rippled across the field, bending the brittle stalks flat before they slowly shuddered back to life. For a moment, everything was swallowed in a gray haze.
Then, two silhouettes rose from their knees. Eiden straightened first, katanas angled downward, the longsword locked against his arm gleaming faintly. Yajin rose as well, brushing dust from his shoulder as the Sword of Judgement hummed with its unsettling resonance.
"Eiden," Yajin said, his voice echoing across the quiet plain. "If I die, you'll become a god soon. If you die, I will become a god—"
"Enough with your nonsense," Eiden cut him off. "It's time I put you down." He raised his right arm, pointing his blade directly at Yajin.
Yajin mirrored him, lifting the Sword of Judgement in a slow, deliberate motion. The air thickened. The wind gave a single, long whoosh and then stopped entirely, as if the world were holding its breath. A white aura unfurled around Eiden, swirling like a rising storm, while a green aura surged around Yajin, crackling with divine pressure from his feet to his shoulders.
Their voices overlapped, resonant and steady:
"Rise of the Eternal Gods."
The ground trembled and the sky dimmed. Their auras shot upward at the same instant, two pillars of white and green light clashing mid-air like opposing storms. The pressure bent the dead grass outward in a perfect circle as the light grew blinding.
Then, their auras erupted like twin suns. A shockwave of divine force rolled across the land as their forms began to change within the radiance.
The green light around Yajin thickened into a living storm. His body expanded, muscles tightening beneath skin that glowed with emerald radiance until he stood as tall as an ogre. Three eyes opened across his face; the central one pulsed with judgmental intensity, each blink sending ripples through the air. The Sword of Judgement lengthened into a massive slab of divine metal, and green sigils flickered around him like ancient runes. Behind him, faint, translucent shapes formed—wings that weren't wings, shadows of a celestial form too old for mortal eyes to grasp.
White light surged around Eiden in spirals of breaking halos. He rose to match Yajin's towering height, his frame carved with divine sharpness. White sigils blinked across his aura before dissolving into drifting motes. His katanas glowed like slivers of moonlight, and the longsword blazed like a star. The blade locked beneath his metal sleeve pulsed once and then fused deeper, embedding through his skin to become a divine extension of his own body. White veins of light traced up his arm like sacred circuitry. His hair drifted weightlessly as if underwater, and behind him, colossal, luminous shapes flickered—something older and more primal than wings.
When the light finally dimmed, they stood across from each other. They were no longer men, but beings touched by divinity—larger, brighter, and more complete. The plains felt smaller, the sky dimmer, and the world quieter. Two ascended forms. Two destinies. One inevitable clash.