The curtain of the universe was pulled back, revealing a stage of absolute desolation. On the surface of the icy blue planet, the very concept of "peace" had been incinerated. When King Borin and the resurrected Gronak lunged at one another, it was not merely two men fighting; it was the collision of two planetary wills.
The initial impact produced a shockwave that didn't just move the air—it cracked the tectonic plates of the world. A fissure, two kilometers deep and wide, erupted instantly beneath their feet, sending shards of permafrost the size of cathedrals into the vacuum of space. The planet itself seemed to echo with a low, mournful groan, a sound that vibrated through the vacuum via the medium of their overwhelming Sovereign Vortexes.
Gronak, his eyes burning with the orange fire of the Sovereign Desert, moved his hands in a complex mudra. "Earth-Fire Dao: Great Rock Blast!"
From the frozen ground, massive boulders of volcanic rock, coated in obsidian flames, erupted. They flew toward Borin like meteors, each one capable of leveling a city. Borin didn't retreat. He slammed his Greatsword into the ice, creating a Glacial Wall of the Northern King. The rocks impacted the ice with the sound of a thousand cannon blasts, but the defense held, shattering the rocks into molten shrapnel.
"Is that all, old man?" Borin's voice was cold.
He thrust his hand forward, his fingers twitching in a rhythmic pattern. "Whirling Storm: The Invisible Needle."
A small, insignificant-looking marble of compressed air formed in the palm of his hand. It looked like a toy, spinning with a faint, humming sound. Borin launched it. Gronak, sensing the low energy output of the move, simply sidestepped it with a mocking grin.
"Your attacks are getting slow, son! Has the throne made you soft?" Gronak taunted.
But the grin vanished instantly. The small marble didn't fly past him; it entered his Spatial Shadow. It looped back with the speed of a photon, entering Gronak's body through the small of his back.
This was no ordinary storm. It was a Centrifugal Bone-Cracker. Once inside the flesh, the air marble expanded with the force of a pressurized gas main.
CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!
The sound of shattering bone echoed across the plains. Gronak's chest visibly buckled outward. His ribs were pulverized into splinters, and his spine groaned under the internal vacuum. A fountain of deep, dark blood erupted from Gronak's mouth, painting the blue ice in a gruesome shade of Golden Blood.
"ARGH!" Gronak roared, slamming his palms against his own chest to neutralize the air pressure with his fire magic. He staggered back, his breath coming in wet, rattling gasps. Half of his skeletal structure had been turned to dust in a single heartbeat.
Borin watched with a cold, detached gaze. He didn't follow up with a strike; he knew his father.
Gronak reached into his tattered robes and withdrew a small, ornate glass bottle containing a liquid that glowed with a sickly, neon-green radiance. "Abyssal Essence Nectar." He crushed the glass in his hand and swallowed the contents, shards and all.
Instantly, the air around Gronak turned green. His mangled chest began to knit back together. The sound of bones regrowing was like the snapping of dry twigs. However, the regeneration was not perfect. His Tier 2 body was too complex to fully heal from such a specialized internal attack. Only half of his broken ribs regenerated, leaving him with a permanent, jagged ache in his side.
"You... you use such low-tier tricks?" Gronak spat, wiping the gore from his chin. "You are worthy of being my son, Borin, but you are not worthy of the crown. I would rather see my grandson(Zayn) on the throne than a king who fights like a cowardly assassin."
Borin laughed, a hollow sound. "Strategy is for the wise, father. Only Beatrice can afford to fight with brute force, because her soul is a blunt instrument of the Heavens. We are Dwarves; we build, we craft, and we deceive."
For two minutes, the planet went silent. The two men stood ten meters apart, their eyes locked in a battle of mental simulations. They were calculating millions of possibilities, searching for the one flaw that would lead to a kill.
Then, simultaneously, they both slammed their palms into the ice.
"Ritual of the Eternal Bond: ASCEND!"
Two massive, glowing ritual marks—each a kilometer wide—burned into the surface of the planet.
From Gronak's circle, the ground liquefied into black ink. A head as large as a palace emerged. It was The Great Black Serpent, an ancient creature of the Dwarf bloodline that had been sealed since Gronak's first death. Its scales were obsidian, and its eyes were pits of toxic emerald fire.
From Borin's circle, a radiant golden light pierced the clouds. A majestic creature with the head of a giant eagle and the muscular body of a mountain lion descended. This was The Golden Verlin, a legendary Griffin.
"The Second Summon of that Bitch Beatrice," Gronak whispered, his voice tinged with envy. "How did you catch that beast, Borin? That is Beatrice's favorite lineage."
Borin stroked the golden feathers of the Griffin as it landed beside him, its talons carving deep grooves into the ice. "Beatrice gave me the egg as a coronation gift. I raised it, fed it my own essence blood, and watched it grow. It is more than a pet, father. It is my soul-brother."
"Pah!" Gronak interrupted. "I didn't ask for a bedtime story! Serpent, feast upon the bird!"
These were God's Helpers. Creatures of such immense power that their mere presence would cause a Tier 3 master's heart to stop. As they roared, the blue ice mountains in the distance didn't just fall—they turned into fine, white dust.
The Great Serpent lunged, its body a whip of black muscle. It coiled through the air, its fangs dripping with a neurotoxin that could melt Divine Iron. The Verlin flapped its wings, creating a Gale-Force Hurricane that forced the Serpent back.
The two beasts collided in mid-air. The Serpent sank its fangs into the Griffin's neck, a brutal, bone-deep bite. The Verlin shrieked, a sound that reached through the void and echoed across the atmosphere of the Earth-Aetheleon.
Deep within the Human Palace, Queen Beatrice sat upon her throne, her eyes closed. Suddenly, two massive Griffins—the parents of the Verlin—bolted upright from their sleep. One had been resting in Beatrice's lap, the other on a velvet dais. They let out a mournful cry, sensing their child's agony across the stars.
Beatrice placed a hand on the head of the mother Griffin, her Sovereign Aura calming the beast instantly. "Peace," she whispered, her voice carrying a terrifying authority. "Your child is a Chenwongo-trained warrior. If he falls, I will personally descend and turn that blue planet into a necklace of ash. Sleep now."
The beasts, trusting their mistress, slowly settled back down, though their golden eyes remained narrowed.
Back on the icy planet, the fight had reached a fever pitch. The Verlin had managed to kick the Serpent off its neck, its lion claws leaving three massive, bleeding gashes along the Serpent's obsidian spine. Both beasts were exhausted, their divine blood—gold and purple—staining the ice.
"Enough of this!" Gronak roared.
He and Borin moved at speeds that bypassed the concept of "movement." They were blurs of light. Gronak shrouded his blade in Void and Dark Magic, a combination that turned the steel into a hunger.
Gronak moved forward with Light-Speed. Borin prepared to parry, but his eyes deceived him. The Gronak in front of him was a Void-Mirage.
The real Gronak appeared from the shadow cast by the dying campfire.
SHLICK.
The dark-magic blade entered Borin's stomach, protruding from his back.
Borin's eyes went wide. He coughed up a mixture of blood and black bile. The dark magic began to pump a Soul-Rotting Void Venom directly into his primary meridian. It was a poison designed to kill the immortal essence of a Tier 2 master.
"AAAGH!" Borin collapsed to his knees, his hands clutching the blade still embedded in his gut. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt—it was the feeling of his soul being dissolved in acid.
At the same moment, the Great Serpent found its opening. It coiled around the Verlin, its body squeezing with the force of a collapsing star. It bit deep into the Griffin's chest, injecting the same black venom.
The Golden Verlin let out a final, weak chirp before collapsing onto the ice beside its master.
Gronak stood over his son, his shadow looming large against the flickering fires of the planet. The Great Black Serpent loomed beside him, its tongue flickering as it tasted the blood in the air and want to kill Verlin (The Legendary Griffin).
"You were a good king, Borin," Gronak said, raising his sword for the final decapitation. "But in the end, you were still just a boy playing with a bird. Say hello to your mother in the Yellow Springs."
The King of the Dwarves lay broken, his life-light fading as the black poison took hold.
Is this the end of the Stone Head Family?