A bolt of lightning thicker than a water barrel erupted from the Thunder Titan's arm.
Sauron's expression finally changed.
"That kind of power… from a human?" His voice dropped, sharp with disbelief.
The strike was no mere spectacle. Lightning of that intensity was enough to injure his physical form. As a Maia, he would not truly die if his body was destroyed, but rebuilding it would demand time and strength he had no intention of wasting.
Sauron raised his blade horizontally. Darkness surged from him, swelling into a massive black shield.
Light and shadow collided.
The lightning hissed, twisted, and was swallowed whole.
Rowan felt a tightness settle in his chest. Even the Thunder Titan's ultimate discharge had failed to break through.
"So he's already this troublesome," Rowan muttered. "And this is still the early days."
If Sauron alone was this dangerous, then Morgoth himself was on an entirely different level. One was a powerful servant who waited for the gods to look away. The other had once required all the Valar together to bring him down.
A thunderous howl tore through the battlefield.
Sauron's body twisted midair, collapsing inward before expanding again. In seconds, he became a colossal wolf, black as pitch, his form swelling until he matched the Thunder Titan in size. He threw back his head and roared, then lunged forward with killing intent.
Rowan cursed under his breath. "Right. The Lord of Werewolves."
He redirected the Thunder Titan to block the bite, but it was never meant for sustained melee. Its strength lay in ranged destruction, not close combat. Against Sauron's monstrous fangs and claws, its structure began to crack, stone and metal tearing free under the assault.
Then Sauron suddenly howled in pain and leapt back, shrinking rapidly as he returned to his humanoid form.
"Your opponent is me," Finrod said coldly.
He had arrived atop his great elk, his enchanted blade still glowing with light. The strike that wounded Sauron's leg burned with power meant to punish darkness.
"Sauron," Finrod continued, stepping forward. "Face me."
For a brief moment, wariness flickered in Sauron's eyes. Finrod was not his equal, but the gap was narrow enough to be dangerous if he grew careless.
Rowan dismissed the Thunder Titan at once and landed beside Finrod. Maintaining it had pushed him to his limits. Worse, lightning alone clearly wasn't the answer.
If one kind of magic failed, then another would have to succeed.
"I'll test something else," Rowan said quietly. "Hold him."
Finrod gave a sharp nod and leapt from his mount, golden light bursting from his armor as he charged. With the elk gone, his movements became faster, cleaner, every step a blur of precision.
"I'll kill you first," Finrod shouted, "and then I'll come for Morgoth!"
Sauron laughed, low and cruel. "Have you forgotten how your kin died? I'll send you to Mandos… and your brother and sister will follow."
They clashed like streaks of gold and shadow, their speed pushing beyond what Rowan could easily track. Magic without a focus was too slow, and he had no staff or wand to assist him.
Then Rowan's gaze dropped.
A fallen elven warrior lay nearby, fingers still wrapped around a rune-etched sword.
Rowan seized it.
The moment his hand closed around the hilt, he felt it. The blade resonated with power, responding like a conduit rather than a simple weapon.
"So this will work," he breathed.
It wasn't as refined as the best implements he had known, but it was far better than casting bare-handed. No wonder the High Elves were so formidable. Their strength was not just in their bodies, but in what they forged.
Rowan smiled thinly.
"Guess I'll play swordsman for a bit."
Electricity surged through his muscles, every nerve pushed to its limit. He vanished in a crack of thunder, reappearing behind Sauron as Finrod pressed the attack from the front.
"Take this," Rowan shouted, swinging.
The blade cut for Sauron's neck as invisible force followed it, a slicing curse riding the arc of the strike.
Sauron barely glanced back.
His lips curled in disdain as he stepped aside with effortless grace.
"Fast," he said coolly, "but your swordsmanship is crude."
The spell sliced through empty air.
Rowan landed, already recalculating.
Speed alone wouldn't be enough.
...
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