Chapter 30: 30 Kharmul Vs Vezareth

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30: Kharmul Vs Vezareth 30: Kharmul Vs Vezareth The earth trembled, split, and rose again.

The lesser mountains swayed like leaves in the wind.

The roots of the oldest trees snapped.

The rivers changed course.

And the sky above them darkened with swirling clouds, laden with lightning.

From the four cities of the Abyss, and to the furthest reaches, every creature looked to the sky in terror and awe.

Sanguinarii, Nocturnum, Umbrafluctus, Ignimurus: all saw those incandescent domes rise and tremble above Dareth’s Crest like two opposing suns.

Every inhabitant, from the most hardened warrior to the child in the alleys, from the fiercest demon to the monster lurking in the shadows, stopped to watch.

A shiver of terror and reverence ran down everyone’s spine.

“It is the power of emperors,” whispered an old demon, trembling.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life.” “The world is breaking,” a mother murmured, clutching her son.

“The very sky seems to tremble.” And on the Ridge, the two brothers fought.

Vezareth charged each blow with a searing energy that ignited the air around him.

Kharmul, with the calm of one who masters the deepest darkness, responded with slow but inexorable blows: the gravity around his sword bent and warped reality, dragging the energy of the fire toward an abyss of darkness.

The clash was so intense that time seemed to bend, as if the universe itself were holding its breath.

Vezareth drew the first blood.

With a lightning-fast movement, Kharmul slipped past his guard and with Threnazar cut into his left shoulder.

The black blade sank deeply, and a trickle of blood began to run down the muscular arm.

“You will feel the weight of darkness, brother,” Kharmul snarled, his violet eyes blazing with cruelty and triumph.

Vezareth gritted his teeth.

“Your shadow will not extinguish my flame.” With a cry that seemed to come from the depths of his being, Vezareth channeled Vesperthil’s eternal heat.

The blade engulfed itself in a halo of red flames that never died, not even in the coldest wind.

He unleashed a series of slashes, a shower of fire that Kharmul barely parried.

And one of the searing burns struck Kharmul’s cheek, leaving a reddened streak.

“It burns, brother,” Kharmul replied, his voice thick with venom.

“But it is not enough.” The two continued to clash relentlessly, the rhythm of the duel a deadly dance, every movement charged with rage, pride, and ancient pain.

The ground beneath them heated, the vegetation caught fire, but neither seemed to care.

And between one blow and another, memories surfaced.

“Do you remember when we were children, Kharmul?” Vezareth said, his side burned, his breath ragged.

“When we flew among the stars, under Azrael’s gaze?

When the Sixth Veil was our home?

We were brothers.

Before all this.” “Those times are buried,” Kharmul replied, and in his voice, beneath the venom, was an infinite sadness.

“Our blood, now, is only a reason to fight.” Threnazar fell with a sepulchral roar.

Vezareth stopped him a hair’s breadth from his face, his muscles screaming with the effort.

“I did not come to win,” he said, and his voice cracked.

“I came to remind you that there was love, once.

That we could stop.

Now.

Now.” But Kharmul’s next blow was blind, furious, desperate.

And the battle resumed, more ferocious than before.

Kharmul manipulated gravity, creating small vortices that slowed his brother’s movements and pushed him in unexpected directions.

The dark energy of his sword enveloped him like a cloak of darkness, making it difficult to predict where he would strike.

“You will not escape my abyss,” he hissed, as with a powerful blow he tried to drag Vezareth into a gravitational vortex, crushing his will and body under merciless pressure.

Vezareth resisted, planting his feet in the burning ground, releasing a wave of heat that temporarily drove away the darkness.

But fatigue was beginning to take its toll, as were the wounds the duel had inflicted.

Blood flowed from cuts and scratches, flesh burned and torn by incandescent and dark metal.

Both brothers, though bleeding, continued to fight, driven by an energy that went beyond physical pain.

After endless hours, the fight reached its climax.

The world held its breath.

Under a now starless sky, lit only by the flames among the ruins and shattered mountains, the two brothers stared at each other.

Their bodies battered, every fiber trembling with exhaustion.

Blood dripped abundantly from the wounds that marked their faces, chests, legs.

Their hands, almost skeletal from the effort, still gripped their swords.

And they spoke without speaking.

Their gazes said it all.

The love they had shared.

The hatred that had divided them.

The certainty that nothing would They survived that final blow.

With a piercing scream, they raised their blades to the sky.

Vesperthil ignited with a fire so thick and incandescent that the air around Vezareth began to melt.

The crimson flames rose hundreds of meters, taking the shape of a dragon screaming at the split moon.

Every stone beneath her feet turned to lava.

Every shadow fled.

Threnazar pulsed like a black heart.

The purple aura grew so intense it distorted reality: rocks shattered, the ground collapsed, space warped.

The air was as thick as lead.

Around Kharmul, a purple orb expanded, a tiny black hole that threatened to swallow everything.

The Judgment of Absolute Pressure.

And the swords fell.

Crimson fire and absolute gravity collided with indescribable violence.

The world itself shattered in that instant.

An explosion of pure energy, vaster than any mountain, shattered the shackles of dimensions.

The wind from the impact swept across the entire demonic realm: cities shook, demons fell to their knees without understanding why, monsters screamed.

It was as if creation itself were collapsing.

And when the light and darkness subsided, silence reigned.

Only two sounds.

The dull thud of Threnazar as he sank into the sacred earth.

And the thud of Vesperthil, beside him.

The two brothers were there.

lying on the crest of Dareth.

Armless.

Blood formed a dark pool around their bodies.

Their breathing was now a dying whisper.

But their eyes still shone.

They looked at each other one last time.

Their eyes filled with everything that had been: the days in the Celestial Kingdom, the flights among the stars, the shared laughter, the promises made under the starlight.

And now, only peace.

And failure.

Smiling, through blood and tears, they said together: “We failed.” But they were the smiles of two brothers who, despite everything, had returned to unity with their last breath.

“Are you still my brother?” Kharmul whispered, his voice weaker than ever.

Vezareth leaves him.

“I’m sorry.” A broken smile, full of pain.

“I always have been.

Even when you stopped believing.”