Zavren dashed forward, his speed blinding, and in an instant, he was in front of Jareth. His kick connected with immense force, sending Jareth hurtling through the line of ten armored guardians to the left, their ranks collapsing like dominos under the impact.
Zavren sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "Oh, mighty Dragon God, is this mortal your grand ace? He couldn't even dodge a simple strike." He rested his demonic twin swords on his shoulders, their blazing aura casting shadows across the chamber. "I expected more, Bahamut. You've grown desperate if this fragile human is your answer to reclaiming these lands. He's no threat to me or anyone here."
A deep, rumbling laugh echoed through the chamber, shaking the very stones. Bahamut's voice was calm but laced with cold menace. "Zavren Arcanthius Nightfall," he said, drawing out the name with deliberate contempt. "Your family—the Nightfalls—once stood as the shield and sword of the Gods. Raised by my son himself to serve with honor and pride. Now look at you, a traitor who sold that honor for the shackles of a Demon General. How far you've fallen."
Zavren's smirk faltered for a brief moment but quickly returned. "Save your speeches, Bahamut. That era is long gone. I made my choice. The Nightfalls are no longer tools for the Gods to wield."
Jareth, recovering from the blow, felt a sudden surge of energy as Bahamut channeled his essence into him. The GODGEAR began to glow, and the God Sword in Jareth's hands pulsed with vibrant energy. Memories and instincts not his own flooded his mind, and his eyes shifted, becoming dragon-like slits.
With newfound speed and precision, Jareth moved, mirroring Zavren's earlier attack. His strike connected, and Zavren was sent crashing to the right, smashing through the second line of ten guardians. Their armored forms shattered under the impact, the fragments scattering across the floor.
Zavren laughed as he stood, brushing debris from his shoulders. "Well now," he said, his grin widening. "This is more like it."
The two clashed in a whirlwind of speed and power. Their swords sparked with each strike, illuminating the room with bursts of light. They leapt onto walls, ran along the ceiling, and collided with such intensity that cracks began to form in the chamber's structure.
Despite his strength, Zavren began to falter. Jareth's strikes grew more relentless, each one infused with Bahamut's ancient power. Zavren suddenly halted, stepping back and sheathing his swords.
"Enough," he said, turning away from Jareth and facing the throne. His voice was quieter now, tinged with bitterness. "You think this is just a battle, Bahamut? You don't understand. My family, the Nightfalls, were nothing but pawns—raised to serve, never to choose. I admired your son, yes, but I couldn't condemn my bloodline to servitude forever. The rebellion was my only way out."
Bahamut's laughter cut through the air like a blade. "You traded one master for another, Zavren. You call it freedom, but you're nothing more than a puppet now, cursed to remain in this tower for eternity. Do you think I don't know?"
Zavren's shoulders tensed, and Bahamut pressed on. "The curse binds you here, feeding on your power. But it's not just your power the curse consumes, is it?"
Zavren remained silent, his fists clenched.
Bahamut's voice grew sharper. "My son. He's still alive, isn't he, Zavren?"
The room fell into an oppressive silence, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy in the air. Jareth's heart raced as he processed the words.
After a long pause, Zavren finally spoke, his voice trembling with a mix of guilt and defiance. "He is alive," Zavren admitted, his back still turned. "But not for long. He's chained deep within the Demon Gods' torture chambers. He endures unspeakable pain every day because of the Gods' arrogance and your failure to protect him."
Jareth's grip on his sword tightened as a cold rage began to rise within him.
Zavren turned slowly, his eyes filled with fury and sorrow. "Do you even know the suffering your son has endured, Bahamut? Or the cost of your hubris? While you wallowed in your so-called glory, he became a prisoner. And now, he's nothing more than bait to keep you—and anyone else foolish enough to challenge the Demon Gods—trapped in their schemes."
Bahamut's voice dropped, his tone heavy with fury. "You dare to speak of suffering? Of hubris? You betrayed him, Zavren. You betrayed me. And now you rot here, bound by the curse of your own choices."
Zavren laughed bitterly, though his expression betrayed the deep pain within. "Perhaps I am cursed," he said, his voice softening. "But I did what I had to do. And now, I'm paying the price. The question is, Bahamut—how far are you willing to go to save him?"
Jareth stepped forward, his eyes burning with determination. The air in the chamber grew thick with tension as the battle seemed poised to reignite. Above them, the tower pulsed with an ominous energy, as though it were a living entity eagerly awaiting the outcome.
Zavren's smirk returned, though it was tinged with sadness. "Your son still lives, Bahamut. But for how much longer? That's the real question, isn't it?"