The dungeon trembled around them, flickering with unstable energy.
Luke and Ethan stood in the eye of the chaos, their powers flaring like dying stars clashing in a final blaze.
Each blow they exchanged shook the ruined corridor, arcs of flame and distorted shadow colliding with no sign of either side yielding.
Ethan gritted his teeth as he deflected another strike, the heat from Luke's corrupted power licking at his skin like acid.
"Why, Luke? Why would you help that thing destroy everything? Are you really that tired of living?"
He shouted over the storm.
Luke didn't answer. His expression remained blank, as though even the effort of replying wasn't worth the energy.
He raised his hand again, darkness gathering in his palm, and struck. Ethan blocked it, staggering slightly as the force cracked the stone beneath his feet.
"You're not even trying to understand."
Ethan muttered.
But then, finally, Luke faltered—just for a breath.
