"Shit."
Ozeroth's thoughts were spiraling. His figure tore back through the air in sonic booms, leaving spirals of turbulence in his wake.
He had just been punched… by the Spirit fucking King.
Never in Ozeroth's wildest dreams would he have imagined facing this man today. If soone had told him this morning, he would've called them mad.
But it wasn't his fault, no one would've believed this would happen. They thought they had more ti. Thought they could build their strength gradually before eventually confronting him.
The Spirit King, however, had proven to be far more devious than that.
'He waited for the perfect opportunity.'
Eldoralth was in ruins. Great powers were locked in war. The domains had been reduced to cinders. The people were terrified. Everywhere you turned, it was chaos.
'He's not here too.'
But this wasn't just about the chaos. Ozeroth knew the plan Atticus and Whisker had devised: kill the twins, then enter the Zorvan world.
He had heard of the Arena of the Gods… and what happened to a world when its god was engaged in divine combat.
With the Will of the world enveloping the Zorvan realm and cutting off all outside interference, it made sense why reaching his bond had beco so difficult.
Atticus Ravenstein, Eldoralth's greatest sword, was off-world.
There had never been a more vulnerable ti.
'He knew everything.'
Even as he hurtled backward through the sky, Ozeroth clenched his fists tighter than he ever had.
He had no clue just how far the Spirit King's reach extended, but one thing was certain: he knew everything. Their plans. Their timing. That Atticus would be away. That Eldoralth would be wide open.
And he had struck without hesitation.
'I have to defeat him. Or hold him back… until he returns.'
Ozeroth twisted midair, his legs crashing into the ground, skidding hard and carving a trench so deep it could be mistaken for a canyon.
His eyes burned bright, his mind processing faster than it ever had. He executed multiple actions simultaneously.
His aura detonated, erupting into a pillar of violet that tore into the sky. It collapsed down, layering his body in radiant armor, blinding, beautiful, and deadly.
Gleaming, rune-like glyphs slithered across the armor and along his twin hamrs, enhancing every part of him.
A chain burst from the base of one hamr, linking to the other with a tallic snap.
Instantly, the air around Ozeroth thickened, so heavy that cracks began to split the earth just from the pressure of his presence.
In the midplanes, Ozeroth's power was already at a level most in Eldoralth couldn't even comprehend. But his bond with Atticus had always restricted that power, tethering him to a lower tier.
Because of this, his Aspect, Omnicognition, had been stifled. It demanded enormous processing power to replicate abilities, especially in the heat of battle.
And many of his past powers had requirents he simply couldn't et under the bond's limits.
But things had changed.
Atticus' power had surged to unfathomable levels… and through their bond, so had his.
Now, so of his sealed abilities had beco accessible once again.
Now, the world would witness the true might of Ozeroth.
As he skidded to a stop, his form dipped low. His eyes locked across the battlefield, cutting through distance and landing on the Spirit King, far away.
One word left his lips:
"WorldStep."
A pulse of violet light. Then… Ozeroth vanished.
He transversed a distance spanning multiple domains and appeared before the Spirit King in a burst of light, his twin hamrs already screaming downward toward the latter's skull.
But the Spirit King's expression didn't change.
"Futile."
He raised his arm, and a violent burst of light ignited before him, forming a radiant shield. But just as the hamr struck, Ozeroth's eyes glead.
'Phantom Rend.'
His form dispersed into smoke, scattering into the wind like dust in a storm.
The Spirit King's eyes narrowed sharply. A sudden tearing of air t his ears.
He spun, and a massive hamr filled his vision, inches from smashing into his face.
But the King… sighed.
"Armor of Ruin."
A blinding blast of purple light erupted around him, the shockwave blasting Ozeroth's hamr backward with trendous force.
Ozeroth spun midair, recovering his balance, his eyes now narrowed and serious.
The Spirit King's figure had beco even more imposing. His height hadn't changed, yet he felt taller. Denser.
A gleaming armor now wrapped around him like a second skin, faintly pulsing with energy.
'The Armor of Ruin…'
Ozeroth's expression darkened. It looked fragile, but it was anything but.
A cursed armor whose effect was broken, even for Ozeroth, whose entire Aspect was already beyond reason.
The Armor of Ruin didn't just defend, it fed on damage, amplifying its user with every strike it absorbed.
It was one of the things that made the Spirit King a monster even among monsters.
And back when Ozeroth had last faced it… the experience had been nothing short of a nightmare.
The Spirit King stared at him with cold, piercing eyes.
"Ozeroth," he said. "You can't win. You never could, not even at your full power. These people… they've done nothing for you. It's not too late. Don't abandon the world that nurtured you for these… lessers."
Ozeroth chuckled.
"Has anyone ever told you your pride is off the charts?" he said, his grin widening. "Or should I call it what it really is, delusion?"
He scoffed, then cracked his neck.
"I can't beat you?"
His grin turned savage.
"Please. There's nothing in this world I can't beat."
The Spirit King's frown deepened.
Ozeroth's grip tightened on his twin hamrs, his stance shifting.
The word rolled off both their lips, in unison:
"WorldStep."
In the next second, they vanished.
The sky split apart as their collision detonated like a nuclear bomb, blinding the world in a sea of purple as titans clashed once more.
From within the haze, bursts of concussive force exploded rapidly, unending, intense.
Ozeroth and the Spirit King clashed. Clashed. And clashed again.
The Spirit King had ford a sword forged entirely from spiritual energy, and their figures danced through the haze of purple, hamrs and sword colliding in a constant, thunderous exchange that seed to shake the earth.
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