Ivor's adrenaline rushed through his body like it never had before. Every single blow he exchanged with Arinthal filled him with pure joy; he had never faced an opponent who so completely matched his battle prowess. The clash felt like a perfect draw, the momentum swinging wildly with neither side truly gaining the upper hand.
"Why do you defend that fool, huh?" Ivor yelled over the ring of clashing steel. He executed a massive, sweeping sword arc targeting Arinthal's hands.
Arinthal swerved beneath the blade with unnatural fluidity, snapping his wrist to create three sword waves. "About that... I'm not defending King Igresi," Arinthal countered. "It's just a business proposition."
"Really? And what business is that?" Ivor asked. He dodged the oncoming energy waves with excellent footwork, advancing through the dust.
Suddenly, Ivor vaulted upward into the air and hurled both of his twin sabers straight at Arinthal. The elf moved to deflect the flying blades, but to his surprise, mid-flight the swords dissolved into a heavy mass of golden sand. The downpour completely disrupted Arinthal's balance, causing him to lose his footing as the terrain shifted beneath him.
"Let's end this, shall we?" Ivor declared.
The sand below Ivor rose rapidly, carrying him high into the air like a floating disc. He extended his arms, invoking his ultimate domain:
"Cruel Shrine of Golden Sand."
A stream of golden sand poured out from his center, rapidly structuring itself into a complex, towering building. At the center stood a massive pagoda made entirely of golden sand, with Ivor standing proudly before its gates. The sheer volume of sand rose so high into the sky that it covered almost half the city, entirely blocking out the sunlight. Arinthal found it agonizingly difficult to even stand within the heavy sand, eventually being brought down to his knees as the gravity of the domain crushed him.
"Anyone who defends King Igresi is no friend of mine," Ivor said coldly, stretching his hands forward.
The vast ocean of sand surrounding the pagoda bent violently inward, compressing the space into a massive sphere with Arinthal trapped inside. Within the dark sphere, sharp sand spikes as large as siege towers began piercing Arinthal repeatedly. Countless bloody wounds tore through his body until he went completely still.
Convinced that the elf was finally dead, Ivor released his transformation. The massive domain collapsed into dust, and he floated softly back to the ground. He looked down at Arinthal's battered, motionless body and shook his head with a sigh. Turning away, he looked toward the royal palace, which was now being thoroughly raided by his countless Saruski soldiers. He smiled; his grand plan was working.
"You've given me a powerful strike, Savis," a voice echoed through the settling dust. "Now allow me to do the same."
Ivor spun around, his breath catching in his throat. Arinthal was standing. Blood coated every inch of his body, yet he stood firm, holding his sword Moonshade with both hands. A wild, untamed burst of dark aura shot across the entire perimeter, causing Ivor's eyes to widen in genuine shock.
Wild magic?! Ivor thought frantically. It can't be!
Propelled by a sudden conversion of his velori into violent wind currents, Arinthal's body rose steadily into the air. Suddenly, all traces of ancient velori hidden deep within the city's atmosphere began to converge onto him, flowing directly into his open wounds and forcibly binding his torn flesh back together. He channeled the overwhelming energy straight into Moonshade, activating the ancient runes carved into the blade by the hands of Nhavae herself.
The sky turned pitch black as heavy storm clouds rolled in. Lightning began raining down in deadly torrents, completely indiscriminate as it vaporized several Avorath soldiers caught in the crossfire. Arinthal's entire body coursed with terrifying power. Using his own physical form as a lightning rod, he gathered the descending bolts around himself, concentrating them alongside his gathered velori.
A column of pure, condensed energy shot straight down onto Ivor. The impact was so violent that it unleashed six successive shockwaves across the district. The palace's ancient magical barrier, which only activated when a catastrophic force threatened to reduce the entire royal structure to ruins, flashed to life, absorbing the residual tremors.
When the blinding chaos finally subsided, Ivor was brought down to one knee. His armor and clothes were completely charred black by the immense heat of the blast. However, he had avoided fatal damage by frantically manipulating the remnants of his golden sand into a dense shield just in time.
Arinthal descended slowly from the sky, his overwhelming transformation undoing itself as his boots touched the dirt. He walked calmly over to the kneeling raider and pressed the cold edge of Moonshade directly against Ivor's neck.
"I win, Lord Savis," Arinthal stated calmly. "But I won't kill you."
Ivor frowned, staring up past the blade. "What do you want from me?"
"You want to kill Igresi, and I don't see anything wrong with that," Arinthal replied smoothly. "But you must gather your soldiers and retreat immediately."
"What makes you think I'll do that?" Ivor laughed mockingly, momentarily forgetting the razor-sharp edge pressing into his throat.
"Because..."
Arinthal leaned down, whispering something directly into Ivor's ear. The moment the words left Arinthal's lips, the raider lord's eyes widened, glinting with a sudden, dangerous look of pure mischief.