And for the first time in the match, dark energy bloomed around the black mecha like storm clouds drawn from the abyss. It was thick, potent, suffocating. The kind of energy that ended nations, not just battles.
Damien exhaled lightly, his gaze steady as his own aura responded.
Death energy curled upward like frost smoke. Cold, clean, and absolute. But beneath it, subtle and nearly imperceptible… a ripple of something older. Slower. Temporal threads wound deep into the weave.
"Sure, old man," Damien said with a lopsided grin. "If that's your final wish, I'll grant it."
The energy between them surged.
And all across the arena, even the air felt like it stopped breathing.
And in that moment, they moved.
At the same time.
Damien's hands tightened on the controls. The cold hum in his chest deepened.
The shadows around his mech thickened. The air thinned.
His death energy surged outward, not as a blast, but as a suffocating wave of inevitability. It didn't roar. It whispered.
