Cain barely dodged in time.
The warrior's blade sliced through the air where his throat had been a heartbeat before, the force of the swing sending a shockwave through the golden path beneath them. The very air hummed, reacting to the sheer power in the strike.
Cain's instincts roared, his Titan Core surging violently in response. His golden flames ignited along his arms, burning hotter than ever before.
The warrior didn't hesitate. They were already moving, relentless, unstoppable. Their next strike came from below, an upward slash meant to sever him in half.
Cain twisted midair, barely avoiding the attack, landing just in time to counter. He struck out, golden fire trailing his fist as he aimed for the warrior's chest—
But his attack never connected.
The warrior vanished.
Cain's breath hitched—then pain exploded across his ribs.
The next thing he knew, he was flying backward, crashing into the golden ground hard enough to send cracks splintering in every direction.
Cain coughed, gasping for air as he struggled to his feet. His ribs burned, his Titan Core flickering erratically inside him. The warrior had barely touched him—and yet the impact had nearly crushed him.
This wasn't like fighting the Forsaken.
This wasn't even like fighting the First.
This was pure technique.
The warrior had mastered their power in a way Cain had never even come close to achieving.
And if he didn't figure out how to close that gap—he was going to lose.
The warrior watched him, golden eyes unreadable. "You fight like a man who has never known himself."
Cain wiped blood from his mouth, breathing hard. "That's funny," he muttered. "Because I've been trying to figure that out all day."
The warrior didn't smile. They lifted their sword, pointing it at him. "Then let this be your answer."
And then—they attacked again.
Cain barely had time to react before the warrior was on him, their movements too fast, too precise. Their blade glowed with golden fire, each strike aimed at a vital point, each attack meant to kill.
Cain dodged—barely. He could feel the air splitting around him, the sheer force of the warrior's blade carving through space itself.
He countered, golden flames flaring as he lashed out with everything he had—but the warrior was already gone.
Pain slammed into his shoulder.
Cain staggered, his Titan Core screaming as he barely managed to block the next strike with a burst of golden energy. The warrior didn't falter. They pressed forward, blade moving like an extension of their very being, every strike measured, every movement calculated.
Cain was losing ground.
His mind raced. His body couldn't keep up. His Titan Core was powerful—stronger than anything he had ever known—but power alone wasn't enough.
The warrior wasn't stronger than him.
They were better.
Cain grit his teeth.
Then I have to get better. Now.
The next time the warrior moved, Cain didn't dodge.
Instead, he stepped forward.
The warrior's blade came down—but Cain didn't try to avoid it.
He redirected it.
Golden flames surged through his body as he shifted his stance, twisting at the last second, deflecting the strike with his forearm. The force still hurt—his bones screamed under the pressure—but he didn't fall.
The warrior's golden eyes narrowed slightly.
Cain pushed forward.
His Titan Core roared as he struck out, his fist colliding with the warrior's armor. A shockwave burst outward, sending ripples through the golden space around them.
The warrior slid backward—but they did not fall.
Cain breathed heavily, his hands still shaking from the force of the clash. He had landed a hit—but it wasn't enough.
The warrior exhaled slowly, tilting their head slightly.
"Better," they said.
Cain clenched his fists, golden flames swirling violently around him. His Titan Core was no longer resisting—it was guiding him.
He wasn't fighting against his power anymore.
He was fighting with it.
The warrior lifted their sword again.
Cain braced himself.
And then—the air around them shifted.
Cain's instincts screamed.
Something was wrong.
The golden battlefield shuddered, cracks splitting through the sky itself.
The warrior's gaze flickered upward, golden flames darkening at the edges.
And then—Cain felt it.
A presence.
Something vast.
Something watching.
Something waiting.
A voice—not the warrior's, not the First's, not the Forsaken's—spoke.
"You were not meant to wake up."
Cain's Titan Core froze.
The golden battlefield collapsed.
And Cain fell into the unknown.