The air was no longer just thick—it vibrated. Every breath felt like it pulled pieces of your soul to the surface.
Kai could barely keep his footing. Between him, the Twin-Faced Sovereign, and the mysterious cloaked Heaven-Binder—space trembled.
The Sovereign hissed, "You were erased."
The Heaven-Binder removed his hood.
His face was carved with ancient sigils, his eyes hollow but sharp—like they'd watched the rise and fall of entire dynasties.
"No," the Heaven-Binder said. "I simply slept… waiting for a flame worthy of the Root's will."
He turned to Kai. "And you… are not ready."
Kai's orb dimmed slightly.
"I didn't ask for your judgment," Kai said, jaw tight. "I'm not a god. I'm not chosen. I'm just trying to fix what they broke."
A pause. Then the Binder's lips curled slightly.
"Good answer."
Suddenly—he vanished.
Appearing behind the Sovereign mid-motion, slashing his root-bound blade.
The Sovereign caught the strike—barely.
The force shattered the throne he stood on, sent vines flailing across the battlefield, and split the ground down the middle.
Ren pulled Ayaka back just in time as the shockwave tore through everything.
And Kai?
Kai's orb floated higher—burning bright again, fed not by rage or fear, but by clarity.
"I don't need to be the strongest," Kai whispered, "I just need to stand—longer than anyone else."
He lifted both hands.
The roots of the flame circle began to rise—twisting upward into the shape of a phoenix with burning feathers, wings wide enough to touch stars.
The Binder and the Sovereign clashed again—this time their blades locking like thunder colliding with rot.
And in the center of it all, Kai stepped forward.
> Not as a pawn.
Not as a symbol.
But as the boy who chose to break the heavens and rebuild them with his bare hands.