The phoenix formed from Kai's rootfire wasn't just a summon.
It was a statement.
A declaration to every realm watching.
The flames pulsed with each beat of his heart, wings unfurling across the battlefield. The ashes it left in its wake didn't destroy—they purified.
The Sovereign's corrupted vines hissed, recoiling as they touched the radiant fire.
He snarled. "You're just a child playing god!"
Kai didn't blink. "Then maybe it's time the gods remembered how it feels to bleed."
The Heaven-Binder reappeared beside Kai, still clashing with the Sovereign at speeds the eye could barely follow.
"You've reached your threshold," the Binder warned. "If you release too much rootfire, your spirit may shatter."
Kai looked up at the sky—split, broken, and watching.
"I wasn't born to play it safe."
> He raised his arms—and the phoenix dove.
It struck the battlefield like a second sun.
The Sovereign screamed as the light tore through his vines, burning away the rot, forcing his echo seed to retreat into the air like smoke.
Ayaka shielded her eyes. Ren stood silent, the wind around him still—stilled by reverence.
When the light faded—
> Kai stood at the center.
Cloaked in flame.
Hovering above the ground, eyes glowing—not with rage…
But with understanding.
The Binder stared at him, then bowed his head slightly.
"The flame... has rooted."
Kai slowly landed, exhausted but calm. "It's not about what I burned. It's about what I'll plant in its place."
The Sovereign—bloodied, wounded, but not gone—dragged himself back toward the ruins of the Spire.
"This isn't over," he growled.
Kai turned his back.
"No. It's only just begun.