The clash of power shattered the realm.
Kael'thir collided with his future self, their forms blurred into streaks of black scales, crimson energy, and fractured space.
Each strike sent ripples through reality, warping the air, distorting time itself.
Mountains crumbled.
The sky bled.
The ground—if it could be called that—shattered beneath their feet, leaving them suspended in an arena of ruins and floating debris, relics of forgotten civilizations lost to the void.
But Kael'thir didn't care about any of it.
His focus was absolute.
On the throne sat his failure.
A future where power had become a cage.
A Kael'thir who had stopped rising.
And Kael'thir didn't know how to lose.
Claw met claw, the impact cracking the very fabric of space around them.
His future self was faster—each movement precise, economical, without wasted energy.
Every strike was calculated, not driven by instinct, but by a mind that had conquered countless realms.
But Kael'thir was something different.
Unbound.
His strength wasn't refined; it was wild, unpredictable, a storm without a center.
And storms didn't need control to destroy.
They only needed to exist.
Kael'thir's tail snapped out, catching the future version off guard, slamming into his ribs with a force that could crush mountains.
But the future Kael'thir didn't break.
He twisted with the blow, using the momentum to spin mid-air, claws raking across Kael'thir's chest, leaving deep gashes that burned—not with pain, but with the sting of familiarity.
Kael'thir snarled, his wings flaring, sending a shockwave that scattered the debris around them.
"You're not me."
The words came out as a growl, rough but clear, echoing in the broken space.
The future Kael'thir smiled faintly, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"I am what you'll become."
Kael'thir roared in defiance, his body surging forward with reckless fury.
The battle became a blur of motion and energy.
Kael'thir fought like a beast unleashed, his strikes fueled by rage and the desire to reject what stood before him.
His future self fought like a god—every movement efficient, every counter flawless, as if he'd already fought this battle a thousand times in his mind.
But that was his weakness.
He was predictable.
Because he'd stopped growing.
Kael'thir hadn't.
Not yet.
Not ever.
They crashed into a floating pillar, shattering it into dust.
Kael'thir spun, his claws slashing upward, catching the future version's jaw and sending him spiraling back.
Blood—his own blood—splattered across the void.
But it didn't matter.
Kael'thir wasn't fighting for survival.
He was fighting for something far more dangerous.
Identity.
The future Kael'thir recovered quickly, landing with grace, wiping the blood from his mouth.
"You're strong," he admitted, his voice calm, almost… bored.
Kael'thir landed with a snarl, his chest heaving.
"And you're weak."
The future Kael'thir's smile faded slightly.
Not because of the insult, but because he knew—deep down—that it was true.
He'd grown powerful beyond measure.
But in that power, he'd become stagnant.
A king sitting on a throne of ash.
While Kael'thir—the Kael'thir standing here now—was still hungry.
Still rising.
Still capable of more.
They charged again.
But this time, Kael'thir wasn't just attacking.
He was adapting.
Learning with every strike, every clash, every wound.
His mind processed the future version's patterns, the slight hesitations, the rigid precision.
And he found the weakness.
Not in skill.
Not in power.
In purpose.
The future Kael'thir fought to maintain what he had.
Kael'thir fought to take everything.
With a roar that shook the realm, Kael'thir feinted a strike, drawing the future version into a defensive posture—then shifted, his wings folding tight as he dove beneath the guard.
His claws pierced through the armor, through flesh, through bone, straight into the heart.
The future Kael'thir gasped, eyes wide with something he hadn't felt in eons—
Surprise.
Kael'thir didn't hesitate.
He tore his claws free, letting the body collapse into the void.
But it didn't vanish.
Not yet.
As the future Kael'thir lay dying, he looked up with a faint smile, blood dripping from his lips.
"You'll see… one day. Power isn't everything."
Kael'thir stared down, his expression cold.
"No. But it's enough."
And with that, he devoured the last of the future's mana, pulling it into himself.
The moment the power surged through him, Kael'thir's mind fractured.
Visions flooded him—
Countless possibilities.
Worlds conquered.
Empires built and destroyed.
Gods slain.
Daughters with faces he'd never met.
A fox standing beside him, her eyes filled with something he didn't recognize.
Not fear.
Not respect.
But… something else.
Love?
Kael'thir growled, forcing the visions back, anchoring himself to the present.
He wasn't those futures.
He was this Kael'thir.
And that was enough.
As the void settled around him, Kael'thir floated alone, his body marked with scars both new and old.
But he was stronger now.
Not just in power.
In clarity.
The reflections weren't there to defeat him.
They were there to teach him.
And he'd learned the most important lesson:
There is no destiny. Only decisions.
And Kael'thir decided to be more than any future could define.
His wings spread wide, cutting through the darkness.
Ahead, he felt another pulse—faint, distant, but calling.
Another challenge.
Another wall to break.
And Kael'thir never stopped breaking.
"I am Kael'thir."
His voice was clear now.
Strong.
A declaration carved into reality itself.
And the universe listened.