[Katherine’s PoV]

  [Oceanus’ RAGE]

  The temperature in the throne room plummeted.

  Katherine felt it instantly, the sting of frost forming on her exposed skin. Her breath came out in pale clouds, the air sharp enough to burn her lungs.

  That alone terrified her.

  'Magic?' The word echoed in her mind. It had sounded absurd, like a myth whispered by the desperate. But now, watching it unfold before her, Katherine wasn’t so sure.

  Khan raised his arm.

  The movement was deliberate, heavy, almost ritualistic. Something began to wrap around his forearm. A thin, glowing blue ribbon. She couldn't feel it; it had no Energy. They twisted and coiled like living serpents, each strand etching itself with symbols and patterns.

  The air trembled.

  The ribbons tightened, and the symbols ignited.

  Katherine’s heart pounded as the light spread, crawling up Khan’s arm, across his chest, and into the very air around him.

  Until they finally revealed four swords floating in the air beside him.

  However, they weren’t made of metal. Their bluish forms seemed made of ice and water. A mist rolled off them, cold and heavy, spreading across the floor until frost crept up the broken pillars.

  The False Sovereign tilted his head, that grotesque, lipless smile still carved across his face. “What is this? A trick?”

  Khan didn’t answer.

  He raised his hand again, pointing at the enemy.

  [Kill]

  The command wasn’t shouted. It didn’t need to be.

  The swords moved.

  They shot forward in perfect unison, streaks of blue light against the dark. The air howled as they tore through it.

  The Sovereign didn’t move.

  He didn’t need to move. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement, his stance relaxed, his blade lowered. To him, this was nothing more than a spectacle, a pointless display of defiance before the inevitable.

  The first sword hit. It struck him in the abdomen. Blue light flared, exploding outward in a burst of cold.

  For a heartbeat, everything stopped.

  For the first time since the fight began, the False Sovereign’s smile broke.

  Katherine’s eyes widened. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she saw it, blood. A thin, dark line of it, running down from the wound, staining the blue of his skin.

  Her heart lurched.

  'He can bleed.'

  She blinked hard. But no, she wasn’t mistaken. The creature’s hand went instinctively to the wound, his fingers slick with something that wasn’t black ooze, but red.

  The Sovereign’s golden eyes flared with sudden fury.

  The other three swords were already closing in. But this time, he moved.

  The Sovereign’s massive sword rose in a single, fluid motion. The arc of his blade wasn’t just fast, it was absolute. The shockwave tore through the hall, scattering debris, stone, and air alike. The three remaining swords never even reached him.

  They disintegrated mid-flight, bursting into shards of water and ice that evaporated before they hit the ground.

  “You damned...”

  The creature’s distorted voice rippled through the air, low and venomous. The sound carried more than rage; it carried pain.

  However, it didn't wait for his enemies. The False Sovereign lunged. His golden eyes locked on Khan, gleaming with fury.

  But he wasn’t the only one who moved.

  Oliver, as Atlas, was already there.

  He slammed his heel into the ground, the force cracking the stone beneath him, golden flames flaring around his legs as he launched forward. The air screamed as he closed the distance, his kick connecting with the Sovereign’s abdomen.

  The impact was like a cannon blast.

  The creature staggered back half a step, the shockwave rippling through the room, sending a rush of hot air across Katherine’s face.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  From her position, she had the perfect angle, its back exposed.

  Katherine’s pulse raced. The blood dripping from her palms, drawn upward by her will. It coalesced into a blade.

  With a leap, she rose above him, twisting midair, and brought the blade down in a single, brutal strike.

  The sword of blood pierced through him, the crimson edge driving from shoulder to hip. The impact should have cleaved him in two.

  But it didn’t.

  The blade sank deep, yet there was no resistance, no spray of blood, no wound that bled. The creature’s flesh rippled around the strike like liquid, absorbing it, rejecting it.

  Oliver’s flames flared again, his fists hammering into the Sovereign’s ribs, each blow heavy enough to shatter steel. Katherine’s blade pulsed, glowing brighter, her muscles screaming as she forced it deeper.

  And still, the creature didn’t fall.

  He didn’t even bleed.

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  The Sovereign’s skin quivered, then sealed itself around the wound as if laughing at their efforts.

  But for a moment, just a moment, it was enough.

  The creature froze, his movements slowing, his golden eyes narrowing in irritation.

  “Damn it! I need time!” Khan’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and desperate.

  Katherine turned, her heart hammering. “How much?!”

  “A few minutes!”

  “Minutes?!” Mordred shouted back, his voice cracking with disbelief. “We don’t have minutes!”

  Khan didn’t respond immediately. His focus was elsewhere, his arm. The blue ribbons of light that had once glowed so brightly were dimming, the symbols flickering erratically. He was muttering under his breath, words that didn’t belong to any language Katherine recognized.

  But whatever he was trying to do, it wasn’t working.

  “You think I don’t know that?!” Khan roared, his voice raw. “He should’ve fallen after the first strike!”

  The Sovereign’s head tilted toward him, the faint smile returning to his featureless face.

  “Perhaps if I were still bound to mortality,” it said, voice dripping with contempt. “But I am not what you think I am.”

  The golden light in his eyes flared, brighter than before.

  “But I am not a false one.”

  Then came the roar.

  “I AM A SOVEREIGN!”

  The sound hit like a physical force, a wave of pressure that tore through the hall. Katherine’s ears rang, her vision blurred. She hit the ground hard, her weapon dissolving into droplets of crimson that evaporated before they touched the floor.

  The Sovereign’s blade moved faster than ever.

  Even with Mordred’s shadows weaving desperately around him, the strike cut through them like they weren't there.

  Katherine’s breath caught as she saw the blade’s path.

  It cleaved through Mordred’s left arm, slicing cleanly from shoulder to elbow in one perfect, merciless arc.

  Mordred’s mouth opened, but no sound came. His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth creaked under the pressure, his face twisted in agony that words couldn’t reach.

  He stumbled back, clutching at the place where his arm had been. Blood sprayed in a fine mist.

  With his remaining hand, he forced the darkness beneath his feet to rise, to twist, to seal. The black tendrils coiled around his wound, forming a crude tourniquet that stopped the bleeding, but not the trembling.

  Katherine’s stomach churned.

  The False Sovereign didn’t even glance at the severed limb. His golden eyes flicked toward Mordred, and for the first time since the fight began, the creature’s expression changed.

  The faint, mocking smile was gone.

  The amusement had died.

  Now, there was only intent.

  He wasn’t playing anymore.

  He was going to kill them all.

  The next swing came without warning. The Sovereign didn’t even use the blade’s edge, just the force behind it.

  The pressure wave hit Alan before the sword ever could.

  The impact was catastrophic.

  Alan’s body lifted off the ground, thrown like a rag doll across the hall. He slammed against the stone floor, once, twice, three times, each collision cracking the ground beneath him.

  “Alan!” Katherine screamed, her voice breaking.

  But there was nothing she could do.

  Her legs wouldn’t move.

  Her entire body trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer pressure radiating off the Sovereign.

  She’d fought monsters before. She’d seen horrors no human should have survived. But this, this was different. This was wrong.

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

  Her eyes darted toward Atlas.

  He was still standing, golden flames flickering weakly around him. And for a moment, she was looking at the man she had thought dead for five long years.

  Oliver. The one she had mourned.

  And now, she realized she would never get the chance to tell him that she had figured it out.

  That the anger she’d carried for years, the grief, the rage, the betrayal, had already begun to fade the moment she saw him alive.

  Because now, none of it mattered.

  There was no time left for anger. No time for forgiveness. No time for anything but survival.

  “You’re beginning to understand,” the creature said, his voice low and resonant, vibrating through her bones. “This is what it means to face a Sovereign. To face the truth of existence itself.”

  He stepped forward, dragging his sword behind him.

  “Don’t lose focus!”

  Isabela’s voice was hoarse, ragged, but it cut through the chaos like a whip. Blood soaked through the bandages around her abdomen as she forced herself upright. She staggered forward, joining Astrid, who was already closing in on the False Sovereign from the opposite side.

  Together, they attacked.

  From two angles, they struck with everything they had left. Astrid’s axe flashing in wide, brutal arcs, Isabela’s fists glowing faintly with flickers of Energy.

  But every blow missed.

  Every strike hit nothing but air.

  The False Sovereign moved like a mirage. His body flickering between one position and the next. Astrid’s axe whistled through the void where his chest had been a heartbeat earlier. Isabela’s kick met only the wind left in his wake.

  They were fighting a god who decided to ignore the laws of physics.

  With a sigh that sounded almost disappointed, the creature turned.

  “Enough.”

  The Sovereign’s sword moved faster than Katherine's eyes could follow.

  A flash of light. A scream.

  Astrid’s leg hit the ground before she did, the severed limb landing with a wet thud against the fractured stone.

  Astrid fell next, her body collapsing beside it, her axe slipping from her trembling fingers.

  Before Isabela could react, the Sovereign’s other hand lashed out. His fist connected with her chest in a single, devastating blow. The impact folded her in two, the shockwave sending her crashing across the hall.

  “No!” Katherine’s voice broke, but it was already too late.

  The two women lay motionless.

  The battlefield fell silent except for the faint hiss of the black ooze.

  Now, only four remained standing.

  Oliver. Katherine. Khan. And Khan’s trembling soldier, who was pressed against the wall like a cornered animal.

  None of them moved.

  No one spoke.

  The Sovereign’s golden eyes drifted lazily between them.

  Khan was whispering something under his breath. But his voice was weaker now, his breathing strained. Katherine didn’t know how long he’d need.

  She wasn’t sure they had time to give him.

  Katherine’s pulse thundered in her ears as she forced herself to focus. She tried to track the Sovereign’s movements, to predict his next attack. But he was too fast.

  She closed her eyes, trying to feel rather than see. Yet, he vanished.

  Her eyes snapped open. He was gone.

  The air rippled. And suddenly, he was there.

  Right in front of her.

  The Sovereign’s form materialized out of the air, towering over her. Both of his hands gripped the hilt of his sword, the blade already drawn back, aimed directly at her chest.

  Katherine’s heart stopped.

  There was no time to move. No time to dodge.

  She had nothing left, no blood to shape, no weapon strong enough to block.

  She could see her reflection in the Sovereign’s golden eyes.

  'So this is it.' Her body froze. Her mind went silent. She waited for the pain.

  But it never came.

  The sword didn’t pierce her chest.

  Instead, she heard a sound, a wet crunch.

  A figure stood between her and the Sovereign, his back to her.

  The blade had already gone through him.

  Through Atlas.

  Through Oliver.

  Katherine’s breath caught in her throat.

  “No...”

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