The second epic confrontation between the Godknight and the Maelstrom raged for nearly an hour longer. More than once, the Godknight tried to lead the Maelstrom away from Safehaven. But the monster was determined to keep the battle in the city, as if he wanted to not just kill the Godknight, but torture him along the way. And what better way to accomplish that than to tear his precious city down around him?

As something of a consolation, the Godknight had managed to contain the damage largely to City Center and the surrounding blocks. But by the time the fight came to its inevitable end, the center of Brightholme’s capital city would be nothing but flaming ruins. Nothing remained standing, save for Godknight Tower.

The group of Kal, Lilly, Windham, Jaina, and the High Elder had been forced to retreat from their vantage point in the stable. If they hadn’t, they would have been incinerated or crushed with the rest of City Center. There had been another brief argument among them about whether to flee the city or stay. Lilly had, once again, come out on top.

In fact, Lilly suggested they move closer to the fighting, correctly deducing that the siege tower that appeared to be a command center for the invading force was safe from the fighting. As if the horrible monster tearing apart the city—and the Godknight—somehow knew to avoid it.

For a time, neither the Godknight or the Maelstrom were able to gain the advantage. The Maelstrom continued to smash, to destroy, to set the world ablaze. The Godknight utilized nearly all of his capabilities in one way or another, ultimately managing nothing more than containment.

But as the battle raged on, one of the two did begin to take the advantage. Years ago, it would have seemed impossible. Their first battle had waged for over a week and neither had ever truly had the upper hand.

But this wasn’t the same Godknight. For some time now, he had been in steady decline. He had tried to ignore this truth, to deny that it was happening. But he felt it now. He had been exhausted—unprecedented for him—before the fight had even started. Then the Maelstrom had hurt—actually hurt—him, shaking his confidence like never before.

All that remained was his fighting spirit and his unshakable commitment to the safety of his people. He was their guardian and had never failed them before. He would not—could not—fail them now.

Yet he had already failed them, hadn’t he? Beginning with the Sisters of the Twin Moon. He had been too late—again, unprecedented—and they had been murdered before he had arrived in Crescent Hollow. He had always sensed danger as it was happening, often before, and had always arrived in time to help. But this time, he had been… sleeping. And caught completely off guard.

The sight of the Sisters’ massacred bodies haunted the Godknight even now, as did the state of Safehaven upon his late return. He should have intercepted this invasion long ago. Stopped them before they ever even arrived. But he had been too late. Too late in every way. Too late to protect his people. Too late to save them.

On the top deck of Verity’s Lament, Enek’Chok continued to observe with characteristic patience. But beneath his steely exterior, his anticipation bordered on elation. His Ascension was so close…

On the battlefield, what had once been called City Center, the Maelstrom smashed the Godknight again and again. The monster’s fists were as big as the Godknight’s entire body, and every blow made full use of every inch. The Godknight tried to hold his ground, digging his feet deep into the earth and bracing himself. But the monster pushed him back. And back, and back.

The Godknight staggered. The monster grabbed a long, flat piece of marble that had once been the roof of Seraphic Hall and brought it crashing down onto the Godknight with all of its strength.

It took a full minute for the Godknight to emerge from beneath the rubble, his visage now a barely recognizable mask of bloody lacerations and purple bruises. If there had been anyone from Brightholme left to see him other than Lilly and her group, they would have been horrified and heartbroken.

The Godknight did his best to fight back, flying upwards and punching the Maelstrom in the face with everything he had left. The monster flinched and took a step back. But only one step. It put its hand to its face and smiled wickedly. The punch had hurt it, and just like with the Godknight, that was a very rare occurrence.

But it had not hurt nearly as much as it should have. This fact was not lost on the Godknight, whose face fell. “Afraid?” the Maelstrom asked him in its dark and gravelly voice.

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The Godknight's face twisted in rage at the question. He charged the monster, hammering it with a relentless barrage of blows that left the giant beast reeling. As he unleashed his fury, his battle cries echoed deafeningly throughout Safehaven.

But the Maelstrom did not fall. The Godknight eventually landed back on the ground, panting and bleeding. He had given the monster everything he had left… and it was still standing.

The Maelstrom hesitated for a moment, basking in the Godknight’s expression of defeat. Then it grappled the Godknight like a toy and raised him high over its head. The Maelstrom unleashed an ear-splitting roar of its own before bringing his fist—and the Godknight—smashing down into the dirt and stone. The ground shook. The earth moved.

The Maelstrom maintained its grip and repeated the action. The Godknight showed no resistance, no movement as his face was buried into the ground. Again, and again, and again.

The monster finally released the Godknight, leaving him motionless in a crater ten feet deep. “At last,” it said. “I have my vengeance.”

It brought both fists over its head, each one completely consumed in flames. It was to be the killing blow, and all who remained to watch knew it.

The fists came down; the ground shook, the flaming crater grew.

But, somehow, the Godknight had managed to avoid the attack, scurrying up the side of the crater and rolling away. The flames caught up to him, and for the first time, left him burning. Burns he could feel.

The Maelstrom only smiled. A momentary delay. That was all.

The Godknight dodged one more blow by flying straight up into the air. But he was slow and he was wobbly. If a drunk man could fly, he would look very much like the Godknight.

The Maelstrom shook its head, almost in a show of respect. But it meant to finish this, once and for all. It raised its two hands, intending to squash the Godknight beneath them like the annoying bug he had become.

But the Godknight reacted in time, spinning away back into the air. He paused for a moment—a long moment those watching would always remember. Then he flew, fists extended, towards the Maelstrom’s center. It appeared he meant to fly straight into the monster, perhaps hoping to knock it off its feet.

Instead, the Godknight disappeared.

The Maelstrom paused. It looked down at its stomach in confusion, and began frantically pawing at it. Then its face twisted in a sudden pained grimace and it cried out, sounding eerily like a child with a bad stomach ache.

Then it exploded.

Grisly pieces of viscera shot off in every direction, the mutilated remains of the once mighty monster splattering all over the debris that was City Center. Ruptured entrails and shredded intestines were sent deeper into the city, blanketing the streets for miles. For a moment, much of the sky turned red and rained blood, every drop steaming and sizzling upon impact.

In the spot where the Maelstrom had once stood, the Godknight now appeared, inexplicably grown to the same size and proportions of the monster. He held the position for the briefest of moments before shrinking down to his normal size.

The Maelstrom had been defeated.

The Godknight stood triumphant.

And the Godknight had killed.

Enek’Chok smiled. He had known the Godknight would never break his no-killing code for the rank and file humans and aeonics in his army, even in desperation. Because it was those people he was meant to protect.

But though the Maelstrom was a monster, neither human nor aeonic, it was intelligent. Not some simple, out-of-control beast. If the Godknight had been willing to kill such a creature, their first battle would not have lasted eight days and nine nights. That version of the Godknight, the one at full strength, had the power and ability to kill the Maelstrom if he had chosen to. But he had felt his code—to never kill—extended to the Maelstrom, an intelligent being. And so he had fought and fought and fought, finding the monster to be unbeatable. So the Godknight had decided the only way to defeat it, without killing it, was to delay it. To send it far, far away where it would hopefully never find its way back.

But Enek’Chok had found the beast. And Enek’Chok had brought it back.

Now the Godknight stood alone in City Center, battered and bruised and bloody. He looked to the siege tower, his shoulders rising and falling with his labored breathing. He tried to stand tall, to stand confident, to stand defiantly. But he could not, falling to one knee and bracing himself with his hand.

Enek’Chok hazarded a quick glance back at Tua Aoy. She was still psychically connected to the troops, as ready to convey Enek’Chok’s orders as always. But she opened her eyes for this moment and returned the Master of War’s smile. She knew him better than anyone else in the Order; she knew what this moment meant to him.

Enek’Chok returned his attention to the Godknight. He flung off his cape and leapt from Verity’s Lament, his jump covering the hundred or so yards that separated them. He did not land with a ground-shaking crash. Instead he glided down with silent grace.

He calmly approached the Godknight and looked him directly in his eyes.

“So, my friend,” Enek’Chok said. “Shall we finish this?”