Kruger

Kaiell never reached Vox.

Not yet.

Something else dropped into his path—so sudden, so silent, it seemed to bleed out of the air itself. The ground cracked under the weight of it. Limbs like armored spindles. Skinless. Eyeless. Wearing the flesh of former men like armor trophies strapped across its chest.

A Voidling Captain.

Its frame was built for war—spined with red Viora lines like stitched muscle, thick with pulsing glyphs carved directly into bone. This wasn't a brute. It was a designed killer.

It moved faster than Kaiell expected.

Too fast.

Claws screeched off Nightfell's edge as Kaiell blocked—barely. The force of the strike sent him skidding back, boots gouging deep into mud and stone. Pain fired up his arms, but he grounded it, rolled, came up low and fast—

Cut. Parried. Shifted left. Dodged high.

The Captain didn't roar. Didn't posture. It just attacked. Relentless. Precision in monstrosity.

Kaiell was forced to burn more Viora than ever before—his entire nervous system flaring white-hot as he pushed beyond reflex, into instinct sharpened by threat.

The glyph on his forearm burned.

[Ibex Cells: 21 Active][Nerve Sync: 91%][Stress Threshold Exceeded – Adrenal Cortisol Override]

He let it burn.

He had to.

Nightfell screamed through the air—arcing upward, downward, across. Each strike a split-second away from death. And every time the blade met flesh, more strain lit up inside him like a fuse burning toward detonation.

Then—he slipped.

A claw tore across his side—through armor, through skin. Blood sprayed, but he didn't feel it. Not really.

He used the momentum.

Spun with the strike, reversed the angle—and drove Nightfell up under the Captain's chin. The blade punched through. Viora flared. The creature spasmed.

And exploded.

A concussive ripple cracked the trees around him. Kaiell staggered to his knees, one arm pressed to his bleeding ribs, lungs fighting for air.

His interface blinked again.

[Ibex Cells: 24 Active][Sympathetic Overload – Combat Window Peaking][Genetic Strain Rating: 3.1 – Viora Tier Increasing]

A flash of movement caught his eye—north of the battlefield.

Beyond the ridge of splintered jungle, through the choking smoke, he saw it—

Pablo El'Vertigo, cloak ablaze, tearing through ritual guardians like a storm made of dance and violence. Every step collapsed a glyph. Every strike cancelled a spell.

And in one final flourish—his blades tore into the sky itself, and the entire ritual lattice collapsed into itself, igniting in a spiral of unmaking.

North was burning.

To the east—

General Karna Voco had reached Vox.

The two stood like gods at war, trading blows that shattered trees and cracked tectonic plates. Karna's glaive radiated kinetic force—every swing like a siege weapon. Vox met him with raw Void might, laughing, shifting, adapting.

No one nearby could get close. The air itself bent around their fight.

To the west—

Inquisitor Nelis had cornered the Void Mage.

Sigils spiraled between them—Viora versus Void, silence versus shriek. The jungle had peeled back around them, trees turned to white ash in an instant. Their battle wasn't about weapons—it was about presence. Will. Force of meaning.

Kaiell could feel it.

Three legends fighting at once.

And here he was.

Still bleeding. Still breathing. Still rising.

He stood slowly, pain flaring across his side. The Captain's blood hissed off Nightfell like it didn't belong in this world.

The interface flickered again.

[Ibex Cells: 25 Active][Viora Purity Approaching Threshold][Next Awakening Event: Imminent]

He stared east.

Toward Vox.

And walked.