The Fight Ends?

The obsidian blade pulsed with an eerie brilliance, glowing like a storm of lightning captured in its sharp edge.

Bolts of light rippled along its surface, crackling and sparking with a primal energy that seemed almost alive. The air grew heavy, the oppressive energy suffocating as the Aztec King brandished the weapon.

Sayo the Undying turned his grotesque, many-faced form toward the blade, his enormous head—the face of an ancient man with long, gnarled beards—twisting in recognition. A guttural, rumbling sound came from deep within him, echoing across the battlefield.

This was no ordinary weapon. No, this was **the blade**—the instrument that had buried and imprisoned him a thousand years ago. The blade that had been forged from the blood essence of the Earth Mother herself.