Sigil stood on the higher ground above the central district, watching the battle spread across the island.
The western side was holding. The northern corridor had already been sealed by the array Reth activated earlier, and the enemy forces trapped there were being dealt with bit by bit. Across the island, the Starborn formations still held together cleanly despite the pressure. Weeks of preparation were finally showing their worth.
For a moment, Sigil felt relieved.
Then he looked at Morgan.
Morgan had barely moved since stepping onto the island. He stood above the battlefield with the same calm expression he had worn from the beginning, watching his soldiers fall into traps and formations without the slightest change on his face.
That bothered Sigil more than the army itself.
A man who could stay that calm while losing men either didn't care about the losses or had already expected them.
Neither answer was good.
Sigil narrowed his eyes and focused fully on him.
The distance between them was only around a hundred meters, but the pressure coming from Morgan was impossible to ignore. Dense. Controlled. Heavy enough that even the air around him felt strange.
Morgan had grown stronger.
Sigil had expected it, but feeling it directly was different.
At the same time, Morgan was also observing him carefully.
The moment he arrived on the island, he had already sensed something wrong. Sigil was stronger than expected. Much stronger.
'He's close to Sovereign Manifest.'
Morgan's expression almost changed at the thought.
Just a few years ago, Sigil had only stepped into Primarch. Yet now, the pressure he released was already approaching the level of old monsters hidden deep within the great families.
Morgan slowly relaxed his clenched fist.
He had made the right decision attacking now.
If he had delayed even a few months, this entire operation would have become meaningless. Once Sigil broke through fully, attacking the Starborns again would become impossible for another thousand years.
Sigil had to die today.
Not because of hatred alone.
Because leaving him alive was too dangerous.
Morgan had learned that lesson years ago.
Back when they were still friends.
Their history was long, though simple.
When Sigil awakened his abilities, Vexer sent him into the outside world under a hidden identity and enrolled him into one of the top academies. The Starborn name carried too much weight, and Vexer wanted his son to experience life without everyone fearing him before even speaking to him.
That was where Sigil met Morgan.
The two fought almost immediately after meeting.
Then they fought again.
And again.
At first it was rivalry. Both of them wanted to prove they were stronger than the other. But over time, the constant clashes turned into friendship. They trained together, went on missions together, and saved each other's lives more than once.
In their generation, they were monsters.
Everyone knew it.
Then Khate appeared.
A girl from the Veyne family.
Both of them fell in love with her.
Because of the kind of friendship they had, neither hid it from the other. They argued for almost an entire day before deciding to settle things the only way they knew how.
A final fight.
Winner gets the girl.
Simple.
The battle happened secretly on the academy grounds.
Sigil won.
Morgan still remembered that fight clearly. Sigil's dual elements had overwhelmed him completely.
Afterward, Morgan congratulated him like a good friend should.
Then he went home and contacted his family.
The assassination attempt nearly succeeded.
Sigil would have died that day if Vexer had not appeared personally. And the moment Vexer stepped in, Sigil's identity was exposed to the entire world.
Everything changed after that.
Sigil got Khate.
Morgan lost both the woman he loved and the closest friend he ever had.
Since then, every meeting between them ended in battle.
And every battle ended with Sigil standing above him.
Morgan stared at Sigil from across the battlefield, the sounds of war echoing around them.
Sigil stared back.
Neither of them looked away.
Both already understood something without saying it.
This would be the last time they fought each other.
One of them was not leaving the island alive.