Kraegor rose to his feet with an unnatural fluidity, his massive form seemingly impervious to the devastation of Josh’s earlier strikes. The juggernaut’s aura intensified, raw power bleeding from every movement as he closed the gap between them. His fist, encased in an incandescent field of pure energy, crashed into Josh’s argent aegis with a force that sent shockwaves rippling through the air.

Josh held firm, his shield skill absorbing the brunt of the attack, though his arm trembled from the sheer force. Gravemaw swung upward in retaliation, meeting Kraegor’s hammer mid-swing. Sparks erupted as the weapons collided, and with a deft twist, Josh drove the head of Gravemaw into Kraegor’s jaw, lifting the massive thrall a few feet off the ground.

Kraegor retaliated instantly, his fist slamming into Josh’s arm with bone-cracking force. Pain lanced through Josh’s body, but he bit it back, his resolve unshaken.

The battle devolved into a raw and brutal contest, neither combatant relenting. There was no room for finesse, no calculated maneuvers—only primal, unyielding power. Bloodied and battered, Josh stepped into Kraegor’s guard. He dropped Gravemaw momentarily, the hammer crashing into the ground and pinning the juggernaut’s foot.

The opening was all Josh needed. Activating Crushing Fist in both arms, he unleashed a flurry of punishing blows. Each strike burned with silvery light, hammering Kraegor’s skull, denting his armor, and leaving cracks across the grotesque remnants of his helm. The sequence ended with a two-handed strike to Kraegor’s midsection, driving the juggernaut back with a resounding crunch before Josh reclaimed Gravemaw.

Kraegor roared, deflecting the next blow with his hammer before delivering a strike to Josh’s ribs. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the chamber as Josh stumbled sideways, pain shooting through his body. Yet he didn’t falter. Blood ran down his side, but his stance remained steady as he faced Kraegor once more.

“You hope to outlast me. Futile,” Kraegor growled, his voice laced with derision.

Josh said nothing, swaying slightly on his feet, his breath ragged. Though weakened, he moved to a rhythm only he could hear—the beating of his heart, pounding in his ears like a war drum.

The unspoken challenge passed between them. Without warning, both discarded their weapons. There was no formal agreement, no need for words—this was the language of dominance, spoken through unrestrained fists.

The two champions of their respective titans clashed, the chamber shaking with each exchange. Their blows landed like freight trains, the force of their strikes staggering them both. Armor caved, bones splintered, and blood sprayed across the ground.

Josh fought with more than raw strength. Every strike he landed carried the weight of his convictions, the dreams of Bastion, and his faith in Moyo. He wasn’t just a sentinel—he was the shield and the hammer of a sanctuary that symbolized hope for the weak and the strong alike.

Blow by blow, Kraegor began to waver. His strikes, once relentless, lost their edge, while Josh’s found new force. Pain screamed through Josh’s body, his muscles quivering from exhaustion, but his spirit burned brighter with every passing moment.

Gravemaw found its way back to his hands as Kraegor staggered, desperation flashing in his maddened gaze. The juggernaut’s broken hammer rose in one last, desperate swing—a cowardly strike aimed to catch Josh off guard.

But Gravemaw met the shattered weapon in mid-swing. With an explosion of power, the sentinel’s hammer obliterated Kraegor’s weapon, shards of stone and crystal piercing the juggernaut’s body. Kraegor stumbled, swaying, before Josh drove Gravemaw into his skull with a decisive strike.

The force of the blow sent Kraegor hurtling through the remnants of the labyrinth, his massive form crashing to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Josh dropped Gravemaw, his body screaming in protest. The hammer glowed faintly, along with the shattered remnants of Kraegor’s weapon. He staggered forward, each step an immense effort, until he stood over the fallen juggernaut.

Kraegor’s shattered helm revealed his battered face, his glowing red eyes dimming. Where Josh expected rage or malice, he found only gratitude—a glimmer of the man Kraegor might once have been.

“True strength…” Kraegor wheezed, his voice barely audible before the light in his eyes extinguished.

The dungeon trembled, the walls shuddering as if mourning its master. Josh reached out, Gravemaw returning to his hand with a brilliant glow as his Hud lit up with notifications.

[You have defeated Kraegor, Iron Juggernaut.]

[Skill acquired: Iron Reprisal (R): Gather and accumulate attacks taken your way before counterattacking with explosive force, amplifying the damage received and returning it tenfold in a devastating blow.]

[Skill released: Titan’s Resolve: Increases durability and resistance to all damage types.]

Pain surged back, unrelenting and raw, as Josh fell to one knee. His fingers fumbled within his tattered robes, pulling free the remnants of crushed shards that had somehow survived the battle. Chuckling bitterly, he forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him.

Ahead, the dungeon gate cracked open, the faint light of freedom spilling through. Josh sighed in relief, trudging forward. At least he wouldn’t have to climb back to the top of the labyrinth.

***************************

The room’s silence was oppressive, like the breath before a storm. Moyo could feel the simmering rage rolling off Durnak, palpable and suffocating. When the second chain snapped with a resonant crack, the sound echoed through the crystalline chamber like a death knell. The realization struck Moyo like a bolt of lightning.

“For every one of your lieutenants my companions defeat, a chain snaps, and you regain part of your power,” he said, his voice low and steady. He could feel the weight of the revelation, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. “Interesting.”

Durnak’s molten eyes blazed, barely restrained by the Archailect’s binding power. He clenched his crystalline fists, his voice a venomous snarl. “Your guardian was lucky,” he spat. “Kraegor was more than what you saw—a mere shadow of his former glory.”

“About that,” Moyo began, his tone shifting to one of calculated calm. He leaned forward, locking eyes with the raging titan. “I have a theory for you, Durnak, the forsaken titan.”

“What nonsense are you prattling on about now?” Durnak growled, his chains straining as the rage boiled within him, threatening to spill over.

Moyo remained unfazed, his voice calm but firm as he continued. “I think everything you’ve been saying about your… followers, if we can even call them that, is skewed. A farce. A reflection of your own delusions about power and purpose.”

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“What are you talking about?” Durnak barked, his tone cutting like a blade, yet unable to mask the flicker of unease behind his rage.

“At first,” Moyo said, leaning back, “I’ll admit, I was bothered. Scared, even. My companions—my friends—have never faced anything like this. They’ve fought horrors, yes, but nothing truly from beyond our world, nothing from the Archailect’s grand designs. This is their first brush with what lies beyond.”

Moyo ignored the growing heat of Durnak’s rage as he pressed on. “I thought I had sent them to their deaths. A suicide mission, all because of a stupid title the system gave me. But then I watched. I saw the echoes of what absolute power does—how it blinds, how it consumes. I saw it in you.”

Durnak’s snarl deepened, but Moyo’s tone cut through the room like a blade. “You. The great forsaken titan. The one who treats his followers not as allies, but as tools. You are a warning, Durnak, a lesson in what I must never become.”

Moyo raised three fingers, holding them steadily as his voice sharpened. “Let’s break it down, shall we?”

“Zarnok,” he began, ticking off the first finger. “The one who trusted you, who stood by you even as he watched you fall. The one who saw what you had become after you crossed the point of no return. And yet, even in his death, he sought redemption. A lesson for Idris, a torch passed forward.”

He ticked off the second finger. “Kraegor. Your juggernaut. The brute who gave you everything—body, soul, mind. Instead of guiding him, you fed his madness. You let him burn in the fires of your vendetta, using him as a weapon instead of helping him find peace. In the end, he respected my sentinel not for being a defender of me, but for fighting for the right cause.”

Moyo paused, lowering his hand as his expression turned grim. “And what of the others, Durnak? The ones who’ve died to break these chains? How many would-be titans have you slaughtered in your endless cycle of vengeance? How many of your thralls have ended those who might have risen to challenge you?”

Durnak’s molten eyes flared dangerously, his fists clenching so tightly that cracks formed along the crystalline structure of his arms. “You dare lecture me, insect? You—a child who walks a path he doesn’t understand—think you know my struggle?”

Moyo didn’t flinch. Instead, his voice dropped to a near whisper, each word laced with steel. “The difference between you and me, Durnak, is simple. I want revenge too—but not at the cost of my family. I take this title, this path, to protect them, not to feed them to the wolves of the system.”

The chains binding Durnak pulsed with an otherworldly light, and he strained against them, his rage threatening to snap the remaining restraints. “You think you can lecture me on strength, on sacrifice?” Durnak hissed, his voice a crescendo of anger. “You speak of ideals. They will crumble under the weight of the system’s trials.”

Moyo pointed to the glowing screen in front of them, where the next dungeon awaited. His voice was calm but carried an edge of defiance. “And yet, I’m going to show you the strength of my companions. One by one, they will defy you. They will defy your so-called legacy.”

Durnak’s lips curled into a maddened smile, his crystalline form trembling with suppressed fury. “Not against Voryn,” he growled, his voice low and filled with malice. “Not against the Blighted Flame.”

*****************

Ayo stood amidst a landscape that was both a nightmare and a grim reflection of her power. Towering volcanoes spat rivers of lava that carved glowing arteries through a scorched wasteland littered with ash and the skeletal remains of what must have once been human. The red skies churned with black clouds, a thunderless storm that seemed to watch her. Beneath her boots, the ground was brittle, crumbling with each step as if scorning her presence.

Her fingers flexed on her staff, her eyes scanning the barren expanse. She could feel the shard humming in the middle of her head, an eager pulse of anticipation that mingled with her unease.

“A fitting arena, wouldn’t you say?” the shard’s voice echoed in her mind, dripping with condescension. “Though this creature dares insult our majesty by hiding.”

Ayo grimaced, ignoring the shard’s arrogance. She had grown used to its constant needling, its insatiable hunger for dominance. But this place unsettled her. It was too quiet, too still. She extended a ripple of mana outward, letting it flow over the bubbling pools of lava. The reaction was immediate—a malevolent force snapped back, recoiling from her touch like a venomous snake.

The shard hissed, its anger cutting through her thoughts. “blight fire,” it spat. “The vilest perversion of flames.”

“What does that mean?” Ayo asked, but the shard’s response was drowned out by a chilling laughter that echoed through the molten landscape.

The lava churned, bubbling violently as a dark figure began to rise from its depths. Her Hud flashed in alarm as the system delivered its grim report:

[Voryn, the Blighted Flame

Once a prodigy among mages, Voryn's obsession with forbidden fire led him to the Primordial Flame, a power that consumes not just matter but the essence of life itself. Twisted by his pursuit, Voryn became a servant of Durnak, bound by shards of the Forsaken Titan’s essence. Defeat him and reclaim the purity of the flame.]

The figure emerged fully, a ghastly silhouette against the infernal glow of the lava. His body was skeletal, charred remnants of flesh barely clinging to molten veins that pulsed with a sinister rhythm. His hollow eyes glowed with orange light, filled with a madness that radiated malice.

“Another little flame to snuff out,” Voryn rasped, his voice a grating mix of ash and ember. He raised one claw-like hand, a flicker of black and orange fire gathering at his fingertip. It grew rapidly, forming a crackling orb of raw destruction.

The shard’s voice screamed in her mind, frantic. “Beware! That fire doesn’t just burn—it devours!”

Voryn’s hand shot forward, the orb hurtling toward her. Ayo didn’t wait—she wove Inferno Surge, her flames rushing to meet his. The clash was explosive, sparks flying as the two forces collided. For a moment, it seemed her flames might hold their ground, but the blighted fire overwhelmed hers, snuffing it out before continuing its deadly path. Ayo leaped aside just in time, the orb obliterating the ground where she had stood, leaving a void that hissed as it consumed even the lava.

Voryn floated lazily above her, his head tilting as if to study her. Then he laughed—a shrill, grating sound that cut through the oppressive air. “Is that all? Little flames flickering in the wind?”

Ayo snarled, summoning Inferno Lash. The whip of fire snapped through the air, wrapping around Voryn’s neck. With a sharp tug, she yanked him forward, pulling him into range. Her hands moved instinctively, weaving another Inferno Surge. Flames erupted point-blank, engulfing him in a torrent of fire.

But as the flames cleared, Voryn stood unscathed, his mad grin intact. “Hot, hot!” he mocked. “But not enough to singe me.”

The shard screamed again. “Retreat! He’s toying with you—move!”

Before she could react, Voryn’s molten hand slammed into her chest. She froze, terror rooting her to the spot as an unbearable heat spread through her body. His voice lowered to a whisper, laced with glee.

“Flames of Ruin.”

Agony tore through her. Fire raced through her veins, searing not just her body but her very soul. Her screams mingled with the shard’s as it thrashed within her, its anguish palpable. Ayo didn’t know where her pain ended and the shard’s began—only that the torment was endless.

She hurtled through the air, her charred body slamming into a jagged rock formation. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her skin blackened and cracking. Tears streamed down her face as she fought to remain conscious, her hands trembling as they tried to push her upright.

“Little flame mage no longer wants to play?” Voryn mocked, twirling in the air like a puppet master savoring his control. “Come now, let me extinguish you properly.”

“You must rise, Ayo,” the shard pleaded, its voice faint, barely a whisper. “Fight with your soul, or all is lost.”

Ayo’s fingers clawed at the ground, her body protesting every movement. She could feel the blighted flame still eating away at her, an unrelenting parasite devouring her strength. Her flames flickered weakly, a fragile candle against a hurricane.

Around her, the lava stirred. Shapes began to form, grotesque figures merging into a towering monstrosity. Tentacles of molten fire lashed out, striking at her with deadly precision. Ayo wove Inferno Surge into a barrier, barely holding back the onslaught as the creature’s flames ate away at her own.

“Accept the gift!” the shard begged. “The phoenix’s flame is your only hope!”

Ayo grit her teeth, pouring everything she had into maintaining the barrier. Her determination burned brighter than her flickering strength. She wasn’t the strongest among Bastion’s leaders—she had always known that. But none of that mattered. What mattered was standing her ground, fighting for something greater than herself.

The creature surged forward, its tentacle smashing through her weakened defenses. Ayo screamed as it sent her flying, her body tumbling into the churning lava below. Pain exploded anew, consuming her as memories flooded her mind, unbidden and relentless.

Ayo, Grandmage of the Titan Blade, sank beneath the boiling sea of molten fire.