While the battle between Zukas and Cephal still echoed through the forest, an even older and more powerful confrontation was about to reach its climax in a realm not far away.
The once serene sky was now marked by rifts of light and shadow, as if reality itself were in conflict. The land, once fertile and green, was now ravaged, marked by rock skulls and twisted trunks, silent witnesses to the titanic forces clashing there.
Kaizen, a warrior with intense eyes and silver hair that fell to his shoulders, raised his head and gazed at the distorted horizon. His black cloak flapped in the wind as if it were an extension of his own restless soul. He was panting, not from exhaustion, but from the excitement pulsing through his blood. The feeling of being in the middle of a battle where everything was at stake, where every move, every decision could mean the difference between life and death, was intoxicating to him.
