The battle raged across the stars, shaking the very fabric of reality. What had begun on the surface of Earth had ascended beyond the atmosphere, beyond the limits of the solar system, beyond anything mortal eyes could comprehend. Knox and Seraph fought among the stars, their bodies moving at speeds that left trails of light and darkness in their wake.
Knox's blank eyes reflected the war unfolding before him. The three figures before him—Vaelith, Zerath, and Draeven—stood as titans against him, their mere presence warping the space around them. Yet, this time, he was not being tossed around. He stood firm, his aura surging with newfound strength, his very existence rewriting itself with every passing moment.
Zerath wiped the blood from his lips and rolled his shoulders, his grin absent. No more playing around. He shot forward, his movements bending space itself.
Knox reacted instantly, meeting Zerath's fist with his own. The collision cracked open a nearby planet, the shockwave warping reality itself. The force sent both of them flying back, but Knox twisted his body mid-air, vanishing and reappearing in front of Vaelith.
Before she could react, his fist connected with her gut. The sound of impact rang like the roll of a god's bell, and she was launched backward, crashing through a dying sun. It collapsed upon itself, forming a black hole that swallowed the remnants of shattered planets.
Draeven took advantage of the moment, summoning chains of pure void, tendrils of abyss that coiled around Knox like living shadows. They latched onto his arms, his legs, his neck, pulling him toward the consuming dark.
"You'll drown in this abyss, boy." Draeven's voice was calm, a whisper against the chaos.
Knox smirked. "Not today."
His body surged with a pulse of raw energy, his form flickering between existence and non-existence. The chains shattered, and in an instant, he was in front of Draeven. A punch? No—a shockwave, a blast of sheer force that erupted from his movement alone.
Draeven was sent spiraling backward, his body crashing through a moon, shattering it into dust.
Knox hovered in the emptiness, exhaling. This was different. He was different. He was keeping up. No—he was winning.
Meanwhile, Seraph's battle with Iskander was nothing short of divine.
Their fight was a spectacle of light and darkness, of order and entropy colliding at impossible speeds. Seraph's six wings spread wide, each one radiating golden light, the countless eyes on them unblinking as they absorbed everything, calculating, predicting. Her fiery blindfold burned with celestial judgment, while her ethereal hair streamed behind her like liquid starlight.
Iskander was the void incarnate, his presence blotting out stars, his form shifting between shadow and solidity. He attacked without hesitation, warping through existence, his fists bending the very essence of creation with every strike.
Seraph countered with divine precision. Every movement was calculated, every attack met with a response of pure radiance. Her wings folded inward for a fraction of a second before exploding outward, releasing a wave of light that burned away the darkness in a cosmic storm.
The two clashed again, their battle sending gravitational ripples through the galaxy. Nearby stars dimmed, their energy drawn into the wake of their conflict.
A shattered planet drifted into the battlefield, caught between their clash.
Iskander smirked. With a flick of his wrist, the planet crumbled into spears of blackened stones, each one aimed at Seraph.
She raised her hand. The spears never reached her. They froze mid-air, their momentum stolen. Then, with a thought, they reversed, launching back at Iskander with divine fury.
He dodged—but barely. The shards of his own attack sliced into his form, his shadows momentarily disrupted.
Seraph's voice rang out, firm and unwavering. "You will not harm anything else."
Their battle surged on, light and darkness colliding in an eternal dance, while Knox's fight intensified.
Zerath was done playing defense. Blood dripped from his lips, his expression murderous.
Vaelith had returned, his wounds healed, his presence crackling with electricity.
Draeven emerged from the shadows once more, silent but focused.
Knox, however, stood taller. Stronger. Ready.
He clenched his fists, his energy pulsating. This was not just survival.
This was dominance.
And the battle was far from over.