“Flowing Cloud Sword Art, Second Form, Soaring Dragon!” Jared’s shout cut through the echo of the last impact. Dragonslayer blurred, lengthening into a blazing serpent of steel. The spectral dragon surged forward, its passage igniting the very air, leaving a trail of white-hot flares.
Cormac’s jaw clenched. Both hands flew, weaving a rapid lattice of sigils until a towering celestial mountain answered his call. Rainbow light rolled off its cliffs as the mountain hurtled toward the incoming dragon.
A phantom dragon, forged of Jared’s will, rammed the hovering summit. Stone met scale with a crack like the sky splitting. Shockwaves rolled outward, rattling the grand hall. Marble slabs shattered, spider-web fissures streaking across the floor in every direction.
Cormac staggered beneath the force, blood sprayed across his lips as he was driven several paces back. Even Jared rocked on his heels, Dragonslayer quivering, yet the blow left only a tremor in his frame.
Cormac scraped the crimson from the corner of his mouth. Madness burned behind his eyes; defeat was not an option he allowed himself to imagine.
“Impressive swordplay, I’ll grant you,” he hissed, “But this day still won’t end with you on top!”
Jared answered with silence. Dragonslayer flared in his grip, the blade’s azure radiance pulsing as though sharing its master’s resolve.
“Then let’s see who hits the ground first!” With that, he vanished, no more than a streak of blue light racing toward Cormac.
Faster and heavier, he bore down like a falling star intent on crushing its mark.
Cormac refused to yield. His arms whirled, launching torrents of immortal techniques, each strike a storm all its own.
Jared wove through the barrage, Dragonslayer cutting runes in the air, unmaking spell after spell until only motes of harmless brilliance remained.
When distance collapsed, steel and flesh collided. Each swing of Jared’s sword carried the weight to cleave mountains; every punch from Cormac crackled with immortal energy fierce enough to pulverize stone.
Sword shadows tangled with fist images, weaving a deadly tapestry that filled the chamber with blinding light and thunder.
Walls buckled. Pillars snapped. The entirety of the Sixth Hall, and the mountain beneath, shuddered as if begging the duel to stop.
Far off, Drystan, wounded and dazed, was half-dragged, half-carried by his retainers toward whatever safety the crumbling peaks might still offer.
Flaxseed had scuttled to a distant alcove, limbs trembling. He knew one stray ripple from the titans before him would erase him utterly. The power they unleashed was a hurricane of raw divinity, and he, a mortal in its path, could only pray the wind passed him by.
Jared roared, “Flowing Cloud Sword Art, Third Form—Reigning Dragon!”
Dragonslayer erupted. A colossal sword shadow towered skyward, its silhouette a dragon of pure sword intent hungry for the heavens.
That spectral beast plummeted toward Cormac, jaws of radiance ready to rend both body and spirit.
Cormac’s face blanched, yet pride anchored his feet. He summoned every last drop of celestial energy, spinning it before him until a whirling maelstrom bulged into existence, hungry and dark.
The vortex howled with suction strong enough to tug broken pillars, shattered tiles, and even loose mountain stones into its spiral.
The sword shadow plunged into the vortex. The impact birthed another thunderclap, louder than the first.
A gale of power lashed through the hall, shattering statues, scattering debris like leaves before a storm. Cormac was hurled backward once more; fresh blood traced the air before splattering across the broken flagstones.
The blast struck Jared square in the chest. His boots skidded across shattered flagstones, and for an instant, his body swayed like a candle caught in a gale, yet his knees never touched the rubble.
Seizing the heartbeat of stillness that followed, he vanished, no more than a blur of dark silk and burning intent, reappearing a breath later as he lunged straight toward Cormac.
