Spear and sword clashed, constructing whirlwinds of flames spanning far and wide, wrenching at their clothing. There, beneath the flames and the dimly lit sun, they saw an intricate weave of runes and symbols tattooed over the boy's porcelain skin. They were glowing, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The Soul Kings all watched. They'd all too much pride to strike when the boy's back was turned. Who were they, if not the ones that once stood at the peak? Lords and Ladies, Beastmen and deities, whose names once echoed through the Myriad Heavens.
Even so, they couldn't help but feel the ache of something ancient jolt across the body and soul upon the boy's flesh.
Blow after blow crackled like the echos of thunder raging on like the endless tides of the seas. When the Ignus gave his spear a thrust, the blade jolted towards Altair in a position that left no way to maneuver but rather block.
