The blind saw visions they weren't meant to. And something old, something watching from beyond… smiled.
Back on the battlefield, Ian lowered the blade.
The black scar he carved into reality lingered a heartbeat longer.
Then—faded.
What was once Hollow Spine was now a perfect, gaping absence.
A silence more complete than death.
A message carved into the world:
The Prophet of Death was still living.
———
Far away from scorched ruins and silent death, within the heart of Esgard, life thundered on.
The coliseum—Esgard's legendary arena—shook beneath the roar of tens of thousands.
Stone walls lined with golden banners trembled from the impact of the crowd's cheers, and the sky blazed with the deep reds of sunset, painting a molten hue over the sand-strewn pit.
Two figures faced each other beneath that burning sky, framed in the coliseum's great circle.
Both of them dripped power.
