The circle of flame roared like a living thing.
Inside, reality twisted. Not from magic—but pressure. Spiritual gravity. Every cultivator inside the ring now felt exposed, as if the very air were peeling back their false strength.
Several of the masked fighters fell to their knees, screaming as their chi spiraled out of control—either imploding or fleeing their bodies like smoke.
Ren stood tall, breathing hard, eyes glowing with wind-forged defiance. Ayaka's blade shimmered with a golden aura now—her lightning no longer flickering, but alive.
Kai's eyes never left the Twin-Faced Sovereign.
"You're not afraid," Kai said.
The Sovereign chuckled. "Child. I remember this flame. I once sat in its center."
He removed his mask slowly.
Kai's breath caught.
He wasn't ancient. He wasn't human.
He was root-marked.
Deep, black veins coiled over his skin like branding. His pupils were shaped like tiny leaves. He was one of the First Bound—a race thought lost when the World Seed shattered the skies.
"You're one of them…" Kai whispered.
"No," the Sovereign corrected. "I am the last one free."
He raised his hand.
The flames of Kai's circle didn't resist—they bent toward him, curling into a crown above his head.
Ayaka shouted, "Kai—he's syncing with your orb!"
Kai focused, pushing more energy into the root. But the Sovereign was strong—his spirit was ancient, layered with time.
"If you want to lead this world," the Sovereign said, "you must not break it…"
He stepped forward.
> You must root it anew. And that means tearing down what still stands."
Kai's fists trembled.
Then he whispered, "Then we'll both burn it."
And the sky cracked open.