Garen stepped into the pale light of dawn, leaving the inferno of the Broken Forge behind. His senses were sharper than ever, the power of the Aetherstone thrumming within him like a second heartbeat. Yet, as the wind howled through the jagged peaks, he felt the world shift—a ripple in the Aether that sent a chill down his spine.
He wasn't alone.
The sensation came first as a distant pressure, then a presence—a force that mirrored his own yet felt... wrong. Where his power coursed like a steady tide, this was a storm: chaotic, violent, and barely contained. Garen tensed, his hand resting on the hilt of the Eclipse Edge.
From the shadows of a crumbling spire emerged a figure, his silhouette outlined against the blood-red horizon. He was tall, his armor sleek and black as obsidian, veins of glowing blue light pulsing across its surface like a heartbeat. His eyes glimmered with an eerie radiance, twin stars burning with barely suppressed rage.
"Another Aetherborn," Garen murmured.
The stranger stepped closer, his every movement fluid yet charged with menace. "So, it's true," he said, his voice deep and cold. "Another fragment of the cycle, clinging to a futile hope. Tell me, do you believe you're the first to try and break it?"
Garen's grip tightened. "And you are?"
The man chuckled, a bitter, hollow sound. "I am Kael. Like you, I was born of the Aetherstone. Unlike you, I've embraced the truth."
"What truth?"
"That we are not meant to break the cycle," Kael said, his voice sharp as a blade. "We are its enforcers. Its guardians. The world must shatter and reset—it is the will of the Aetherstone. And those who defy it... die."
Garen's heart pounded. "I've died a thousand times. Another won't stop me."
Kael smirked, his hand resting on the hilt of a massive spear slung across his back. The weapon pulsed with power, its blade humming as if alive. "Good. Then I won't hold back."
The Clash of Titans
The ground cracked beneath their feet as Kael lunged, his spear cleaving through the air with terrifying speed. Garen barely had time to raise the Eclipse Edge, the clash of their weapons sending shockwaves rippling through the air.
Kael's strength was monstrous, each strike of his spear driving Garen back step by step. But Garen was no novice; he had fought gods and demons in countless lifetimes. He twisted his blade, deflecting Kael's strikes with precision, his movements honed by endless cycles of battle.
"You fight well," Kael said, his voice tinged with mockery. "But skill means nothing when you lack resolve."
Kael raised his hand, and the air around him darkened. Aetheric energy swirled to life, coalescing into jagged shards of crystalline light. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them hurtling toward Garen.
Garen leaped, his body a blur as he dodged the barrage, but the shards chased him, exploding into searing bursts of energy. Pain lanced through his body as one clipped his shoulder, the force throwing him to the ground.
Kael descended upon him like a storm, his spear flashing down in a deadly arc. Garen rolled, the blade narrowly missing his chest as he lashed out with the Eclipse Edge. The two weapons met again, sparks flying.
For a moment, Garen found an opening. He surged forward, driving his blade toward Kael's heart. But the other demigod was faster—he twisted, his spear's haft slamming into Garen's ribs with bone-crushing force.
Garen staggered, blood dripping from his lips.
"Do you feel it?" Kael growled. "The futility? No matter how many lives you live, how much power you gather, you will always fall."
"I've learned," Garen hissed, forcing himself to stand. "And I'll keep learning until I win."
Kael's expression darkened. "You think this is a game of persistence? You still don't understand."
The spear glowed with a blinding light as Kael raised it high. The Aetherstone's power surged through him, the air crackling with raw energy.
And then he struck.
The blast of power consumed Garen, his body shattering under the force. Pain erupted through every nerve, his vision fading as the world dissolved into darkness.
The Return
Garen awoke with a gasp, his heart pounding, his body drenched in cold sweat. He was lying on the stone floor of the World Between, the liminal space where all cycles began. The shadows of his countless past lives loomed around him, their silent gazes heavy with judgment.
He clenched his fists, the memory of his death vivid in his mind. He could still feel the force of Kael's spear, the searing pain of defeat. Yet this time, something was different.
He remembered it all.
Every moment of the battle was burned into his mind—the speed of Kael's strikes, the patterns of his attacks, the raw power he had wielded. Garen could feel the lessons settling into his bones, his mind already analyzing, adapting.
"You've regressed again," a voice whispered from the shadows. It was his own voice, a fragment of one of his past selves.
"Yes," Garen murmured, his resolve hardening. "And I'll keep regressing until I win."
But this regression was not the same as the others. For the first time, Garen felt the weight of another Aetherborn—a force equal to his own. Kael was not just another obstacle; he was a mirror, a glimpse of what Garen could become if he faltered.
"I've fought gods," Garen said softly, rising to his feet. "I've shattered armies. But this time, I'll do more than fight. I'll understand."
He closed his eyes, the power of the Aetherstone stirring within him. He could still feel its pulse, steady and unyielding, as if challenging him to rise again.
Kael had beaten him, but he hadn't broken him. Garen's failures had always been his greatest teachers, and this time was no different.
He took a deep breath, his mind already forming a plan.
The next time they met, Garen would be ready.
And this time, he would not fall.