Fallen

The galactic battlefield shuddered beneath the relentless surge of Romulus's power.

Though battered and bruised, the Spirit King maintained his stance, his ethereal form shimmering with the final vestiges of spiritual energy.

He had borne the searing sting of Romulus's formidable might, yet there was no escape, no option for retreat.

This was not merely a struggle for survival; it was an epic contest for supremacy, a clash of deities in which only one could emerge triumphant.

A subtle, knowing smile played across Romulus's features as he sensed the Spirit King's mounting desperation.

The balance of power had irrevocably tilted in his favor, yet the Spirit King's aura, though wavering, still radiated a defiant brilliance that refused to be snuffed out.

In a determined gesture, the Spirit King clenched his fists as a torrent of spiritual power surged from deep within his core.