Zavren lowered his swords for a moment, his crimson gaze locked on Jareth. His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the silence like a blade.
"Enough talk, Bahamut," Zavren said. "I've indulged in conversation for the sake of our history, but it ends here. Show me some respect, if you still have any left for me. Fight me, as one warrior to another, until one of us falls."
His aura surged outward, a cursed energy pulsating from his chest, enveloping the room in its oppressive weight. The cursed heart within Zavren burned like a dark star, fueling his power and warping the very air around him.
"This will be our final clash, Bahamut," Zavren said with a grim smile. "I was born a warrior, and I'll die one. It's been an honor, old friend."
Bahamut's voice echoed through Jareth's mind, tinged with an air of disappointment. "You've come far, Zavren. You've even improved since the last time I saw you... but you'll never be more than a shadow of what you could've been. Selling your soul for the scraps of power the Demon Gods threw at you. Pathetic."
Zavren's expression darkened, but he said nothing.
Bahamut's tone hardened as he addressed Jareth. "Listen closely, boy. He may be corrupted, but Zavren is no ordinary foe. This clash will test you. I'll lend you my strength, but you must focus. Let's show him why I'm still called Bahamut, the God of the Gods."
Jareth raised the God Sword, his grip tightening as Bahamut's power surged through him. Without hesitation, Zavren moved first. His speed was blinding—he seemed to teleport across the room, his twin swords arcing toward Jareth with devastating force.
Jareth barely managed to block, the impact sending him skidding across the chamber. Pillars crumbled around them as the battle began in earnest. Zavren's strikes came relentlessly, each one heavier and faster than the last.
"Is this the best you've got, Bahamut?" Zavren sneered as he pressed his advantage. "This boy can barely keep up. I expected more from the so-called God of the Gods."
Bahamut's voice was calm but sharp. "You underestimate me, Zavren. Just as you've always underestimated what it means to be a true warrior. Jareth, it's time to show him the strength of my legacy."
Jareth's movements began to change. Guided by Bahamut's experience, he parried Zavren's next strike with newfound precision. The God Sword hummed with energy as Jareth launched a counterattack, forcing Zavren to retreat.
The room became a blur of motion. They clashed across the chamber, their blades sparking as they collided. Zavren's cursed aura lashed out with every swing, while Jareth's strikes carried Bahamut's divine power.
The battle grew more intense. The once-mighty pillars of the chamber were reduced to rubble, and the walls bore the scars of their violent exchange. Both warriors were marked by cuts and bruises, their breathing heavy but determined.
"You've improved," Bahamut said, his voice resonating with grudging respect. "But improvement doesn't change the truth, Zavren. You're still nothing more than a pawn of the Demon Gods. And now, it's time to end this."
Zavren's eyes narrowed. He steadied himself, his swords glowing with cursed energy. "Then come, Bahamut. Show me the strength you once boasted about."
Jareth felt a surge of power unlike anything before. Bahamut's voice rang clear in his mind. "This technique... I once taught it to my son. Now, I'll show you something even greater—a technique born from my own mastery. Watch closely, boy, and honor this lesson."
Jareth's movements became impossibly fluid, his strikes elegant yet devastating. He weaved through Zavren's attacks effortlessly, his blade finding openings that seemed invisible moments before. Zavren's defenses crumbled under the relentless onslaught.
Finally, Bahamut guided Jareth into the finishing move. Jareth leaped high into the air, spinning like a rotor. The God Sword glowed brilliantly, a beacon of divine energy, as he descended with a final, devastating slash.
Zavren's body froze mid-strike. A deep gash formed across his chest, glowing faintly before his form shattered into fragments. The pieces of the once-mighty general scattered behind Jareth, dissolving into ash.
Jareth landed softly, his breathing heavy but steady. The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of residual energy.
Bahamut's voice broke the silence, heavy with regret. "This was my last honor for you, Zavren. Rest now, warrior."
As Zavren's remains faded into the ether, a faint whisper reached Jareth's ears.
"Bahamut..." Zavren's voice was weak, but it carried a haunting weight. "Your son... he's still alive. But chained in the torture chambers of the Demon Gods."
Jareth's eyes widened as the whisper faded, leaving only the stillness of the ruined chamber.
Bahamut's voice was low, almost a growl. "They'll regret every moment of this. Let's go, boy. We have work to do."