We saw Mage King's battle...

Virion's all generals died. He understood. He charged up his powers brutally and went in rage.

The sky split open.

Lightning clawed at the heavens as the Mage King rose higher, black and white flames twisting around him like serpents. The ground below warped. Mountains cracked. Rivers turned to steam.

Virion stood in midair, wings spread, a giant above the world. In his hand, the dark yellow sword pulsed with force too heavy to name. Sparks fell from its edge like dying stars.

The Mage King pointed his blade forward. The air around him bent. Wind screamed.

They moved at the same time.

Two streaks of power clashed in the center of the sky.

The first strike shattered the clouds.

The second shattered the sound.

Swords met. Space broke.

A circle of pure force exploded outward. Mountains fell in the distance. Armies were knocked flat like broken dolls.

Virion pushed forward. Each swing of his sword carried the weight of a continent. His wings beat once, and a wall of magic slammed into the Mage King. The flames twisted, but the Mage King did not fall.

He spun, blade glowing with white-hot heat. One swing split a hundred lightning bolts apart. Another swing tore the air open and sent a beam of cutting force straight at Virion.

Virion raised his arm. A shield of black stone formed in front of him. The beam hit, cracking the shield, then the second strike came behind it. Fire and gravity. Both wrapped in that cursed sword.

Virion blocked. Slid back.

Then he vanished.

He reappeared above the Mage King.

Dropped like thunder.

The yellow blade came down like a god's punishment.

The Mage King crossed his sword over his head and caught the strike. But the force slammed him downward. Through the sky. Through the clouds. Down into the earth.

A mountain exploded.

Dust swallowed the land.

The crater was a mile wide.

But the Mage King stood in its center. Smoke rose from his shoulders. His sword burned brighter. His eyes were pure white.

He stabbed into the ground. Runes raced out in all directions.

The battlefield rose. Rocks lifted. Flames circled the air.

He pointed his hand at the sky.

A storm of blades appeared above him. Hundreds. Thousands.

They shot downward at once.

Virion raised his wings.

They twisted around him like a cocoon.

Every blade shattered on impact.

When the last sword broke, Virion was already in front of him.

His fist landed.

A single blow.

The crater doubled in size.

The Mage King flew back, his boots carving trenches into the land.

He stopped himself and raised his hand again.

This time, a lance of pure void took shape.

He hurled it.

Virion met it with his sword. The impact lit the entire sky. Purple and red light swallowed the horizon.

The shockwave destroyed everything for ten miles.

Forests vanished.

Lakes boiled.

Still, both figures remained standing.

Breathing.

Burning.

The Mage King slammed his sword into the earth.

Flames spread outward in rings.

Virion raised one finger. A circle of black and gold formed around him.

The next second, dozens of spells launched from both sides.

Fire met wind.

Stone met lightning.

Gravity met raw destruction.

Each impact was loud enough to burst eardrums. Explosions echoed across the world.

Then both vanished again.

They clashed in the sky.

Strike for strike.

Fist for fist.

Blade for blade.

Their auras collided like storms fighting for the sky.

And neither one backed down.

Not yet.

Not ever.

Smoke blanketed the sky. The air was thick, hard to breathe. The land below was no longer land. Just scorched stone and molten scars.

The Mage King stood at the center, cloak torn, one arm burned to bone. His sword pulsed, jagged with cracks, but still deadly. He lifted it with effort.

Virion hovered above, wings dim but wide. The yellow blade in his grip flickered. His body was cracked like stone about to shatter, but his stance never broke.

Then they moved.

No sound. No signal.

Just speed.

The two clashed again in the air. Blade to blade. Fire to fire.

Each strike turned night into day.

The Mage King spun, kicked off a pillar of flame, then dove with his sword pointed downward. Virion raised his wing to block, but the blade pierced through, cutting through the black feathers like cloth.

Virion caught the Mage King mid-swing and threw him to the ground.

The earth exploded.

Before the dust cleared, Virion descended like a meteor.

He crashed into the Mage King with both hands on his blade. He summoned another blade in between the clash.

The ground split. A canyon formed.

But the Mage King didn't fall.

He rose from the crater with blood spilling down his chest. He held out his hand, and the ground answered. Spears of flame erupted beneath Virion. Spikes of light stabbed from every angle.

Virion gritted his teeth and spun in place, his blade forming a perfect circle around him. The flames were crushed. The light shattered.

Then he pointed his sword forward.

And charged.

The Mage King roared. His blade met the charge.

What followed was a storm.

Clashes without pause. One swing to cut through mountains. Another to split rivers. Another to crush stars.

Both burned. Both bled.

But neither stopped.

The Mage King unleashed a shockwave of heat. The very light around him caught fire. It burned so hot it turned the stone to ash.

Virion forced through it, pieces of his armor melting. He slammed into the Mage King shoulder first, and they both flew backward, tumbling through the sky.

They landed.

Stood.

Fought again.

One hour passed.

Then two.

There was no spell left uncast. No weapon left untried.

Both had emptied everything they had.

Until the Mage King's sword cracked completely and fell from his hand.

He stood, chest heaving, eyes dim.

Virion staggered forward. His yellow blade was broken at the tip, the edge dull and blackened.

Still, he raised it.

The Mage King clenched his fist. Flames rose from the cracks in the earth, forming a second sword.

But he was slower now.

Too slow.

Virion struck.

A single slash.

Straight across the chest.

The flame-sword broke mid-swing.

The Mage King fell to one knee.

Virion placed the broken yellow blade against his throat.

There was no sound.

No words.

Just one final motion.

Steel moved.

And the Mage King's body dropped.

The wind stopped.

The sky cleared.

Virion exhaled, heavy and slow.

Then he turned toward the battlefield below.

The war was not over.

But the strongest enemy was gone.

And that changed everything.

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