A year before Elron's birth, two armies stood across from one another on an open battlefield. The banners of a multitude of houses and families whipped in the wind as the air grew tense. It was a small force of elves versus a much larger army of humans. Among the elven ranks, a couple of elves seated atop majestic elks exchanged tense glances as they discussed their next course of action.

“Alaric, we should retreat. They’ve tripled our numbers,” Chron urged, his voice tense as he leaned close to the elven king.

King Alaric Malfar’s gaze flickered to Chron, absorbing the weight of his words. His keen eyes scanned the battlefield, calculating their dwindling chances of victory against the staggering odds.

“We could save more lives by pulling back and choosing a fight on better terms,” Holly added, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge of worry. She caught Alaric’s gaze, her eyes silently pleading for caution.

The king's gaze shifted to meet Holly’s, a flicker of concern crossed his face. His expression deepened into one of thoughtful contemplation as the gravity of the situation settled in.

Just then, a pale woman with an otherworldly grace approached on her elk, her long hair flowing behind her. She placed a steady hand on the king’s shoulder. “My love, we can’t delay any longer,” she urged, with a mix of urgency and warmth.

Alaric’s expression hardened, his resolve setting in. “Yes, of course. I will meet him and attempt to settle this,” he declared. “No one should have to die today.”

In a flash, the woman conjured a heavenly tether to the king, her magic wrapping around them both. Together, they ascended into the sky above the center of the battlefield, the air shimmering with their combined power. As they rose, a figure clad in dark armor shot up from the opposite side, the air crackling with lightning as he ascended.

The man bobbed up and down in the air with his conjured bat wings as he closed the distance, a sneer twisting on his face. “Oh, looky here, the fucking king of sticks and my whore sister,” he spat.

“Hello, Emperor,” Alaric greeted him, his tone calm despite the insult. “I hope your actions bear more fruit than your words do.”

The emperor, Maximus, pointed his flaming sword at the king, his eyes burning with malice. “I’m going to kill you today,” he growled. “And then I’ll put the rest of your people in chains.”

The woman, her voice trembling slightly, spoke out, “Maximus, please. We can send everyone home today and end this. What’s the point of all this endless killing?”

Maximus’s eyes blazed with fury as he roared, “Endless? Pointless?! It is neither of those things! It benefits me and my people greatly to take what you have...”

King Alaric's gaze dropped to the ground below, his grip tightening on his spear. His voice quivered as he asked, “If I kill you… Will there be peace?”

Maximus’s response was swift and brutal. He surged forward, his blade slashing upward as he bellowed, “Big if!”

Alaric barely had time to react. With the edge of his spear, he deflected the fiery blade to the right and delivered a powerful kick to Maximus's chest. The emperor tumbled through the air like a ragdoll before catching himself and launching back into the fray. The flames from his sword blazed fiercely, singeing Alaric's hair with every clash.

The elven king tried to go on the offensive, but Maximus's relentless aggression made it difficult. Dark magic emanated from the emperor as he casted debuffs and life-draining spells, each one sapping Alaric’s strength.

Below, both armies watched in awe as the three combatants battled high above them. The sky became a violent light show of spells and abilities, the sheer power on display turning the heavens into a spectacle of destruction. No one dared to move, fearing what might happen if they stood beneath such a deadly display.

Chron's eyes gleamed as he locked onto the aerial battle, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and dread. “This must be what it’s like to watch Gods kill each other,” he murmured, unable to tear his gaze away.

“Yeah,” Holly replied, her tone dazed as she too was transfixed by the epic struggle unfolding above them.

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Maximus swung his sword with a savage force, but Alaric deftly dodged, the blade slicing through the empty air. Undeterred, Maximus followed up with a wide, brutal hook. Alaric took the hit square on the chin, blood spurted from his mouth, only for the cut to instantly heal.

“Damn you, sister!” Maximus roared, his voice echoing through the sky as he shook his fist in frustration. “Sever your connection to this twig and fight for me instead!” His eyes blazed with a dangerous mix of anger and desperation.

She strained to maintain the magical link to Alaric, her face contorting from the effort. “I’ll never help you, you twisted—” she began.

“Die!” Maximus roared, his fury spilling over as he leaned back, channeling a massive bolt of lightning that erupted from the tip of his sword, hurtling toward her.

In the blink of an eye, Alaric flung himself in front of her, his body absorbing the full force of the lightning bolt. The entire sky flickered violently, flashing from day to night as the electric energy crackled through the air. For a brief, horrifying moment, Alaric’s skin turned transparent, revealing his entire skeleton beneath. Then, as the last of the lightning dissipated, he fell, his body limp and lifeless.

“Nooo!” she screamed, her voice raw with anguish as she descended rapidly, her hands outstretched towards Alaric. Desperation overtook her as she tried to summon every ounce of her power to force his recovery. Her tears mingled with the sweat on her brow as she fought to bring him back.

“This is the end for you both!” Maximus roared, descending upon them feverishly.

Just as the blade was about to skewer them both, she erupted with a blinding beam of light from her chest, a searing brilliance that blinded everyone on the battlefield. The surge of heat and raw power from the beam sent the Emperor flying, his screams of pain echoing through the air as he was hurled back. When the blinding whiteness faded, the battlefield lay in chaotic ruin, and it was clear that no one would leave unscathed.

From above, both armies looked like scattered ants. What had once been neat, coordinated formations had disintegrated into disarray. Entire holes were blown in their ranks, thousands of bodies lay strewn in the mud, and distant screams of panic were carried by the rushing winds of the upper atmosphere.

“Look what you did!” she cried, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and fury as she glanced down at the devastation below.

“Ha, that’s as much you as it was me,” Maximus sneered, as he tore his tattered chest plate from his body with a snarl.

As Maximus prepared to engage his sister once more, Alaric rushed in from below, his spear spinning in a deadly display. His eyes were locked on Maximus with fierce determination. The brute tried his best to dodge, but the rapid, relentless attacks were too much, and cuts began to appear across his broad chest.

“This ends now,” Alaric stated, his voice cold and resolute as he pulled his spear back, then drove it forward with lethal precision, ripping a deep cut in the Emperor’s thigh.

Maximus fell slightly, his leg bleeding profusely after the sudden injury. Pain flashed across his face as he tried to maintain his flight, but Alaric was relentless, pressing the attack with unwavering focus.

This was the first time Alaric had gained any real advantage in the fight. Twirling his spear above his head at blinding speeds, the air itself seemed to part before him, causing him to lift above Maximus. The sheer force of his movements made it appear as though the heavens were aiding him in a final strike.

“Come here! This isn’t over!” Maximus groaned, his voice strained as he struggled to regain his composure.

“You’re wrong! This is most certainly over!” Alaric bellowed, his voice echoing across the battlefield as he took all the momentum from his spear’s rotation and hurled himself down toward the Emperor.

Maximus, desperate to deflect the incoming blow, reached out to grab the shaft of the spear. But the force was too great—he could only manage to grip it as the power behind the strike drove him downward. The elf king’s resolve was unwavering; he held his spear firm, determined to drive the spearhead all the way through his foe. Whether it happened in the air or upon the ground, it didn’t matter to him. The outcome would be the same.

As they plummeted down towards the earth, Alaric’s speed increased dramatically, the wind whistling around them like a wind storm. Maximus, realizing he couldn’t hold the spear off with just one hand, switched to using both, abandoning his sword as it tumbled past him to the ground. His muscles strained and his veins bulged, yet it was no use. The tip of the spearhead slowly but surely began to pierce his chest.

With a deafening thud, they collided with the ground, a massive dust cloud erupting from the impact. The force of their descent left the earth trembling. When the dust finally settled, the scene revealed was a grim one: Alaric knelt atop the impaled Emperor of Mankind, his spear driven deep into Maximus’s chest, anchoring him to the ground.

Maximus gasped, blood bubbling from his lips as he struggled to draw a breath. His eyes, once fierce and full of life, now stared up at Alaric with a mixture of hatred and resignation. Alaric, his chest heaving from exertion, looked down at his fallen enemy with a face of steely resolve.

“It is over, Maximus,” Alaric whispered, his voice carrying the weight of their shared history, the pain of countless battles, and the sorrow of lives lost. “For you, and your tyranny.”

The battlefield, which had been filled with the sounds of clashing steel and cries of war, fell eerily silent as the soldiers on both sides bore witness to the end of a tyrant. The battle was over, but the echoes of this moment would resonate through out history for years to come.