Chapter 09

The arena was a wasteland of jagged stone and scorched earth, its perimeter crowded with Ronan’s soldiers and Syndicate operatives. The challenge had been delivered, and both sides had assembled to witness the duel between their leaders.

Ronan stood at the center, his glowing silver eyes locked on Kael. The Syndicate emissary was an imposing figure in their gleaming black armor, runes pulsing faintly across its surface. Their helmet reflected the dull, ashen sky, hiding whatever emotions lay beneath.

“You’re predictable, Ronan,” Kael said, their voice amplified by their suit’s mechanics. “Always rushing into battle, clinging to the ruins of a dead empire.”

“And you’re nothing more than a puppet,” Ronan shot back, his blade humming with energy. “You betrayed your people, and now you serve a master that will discard you the moment you falter.”

Kael chuckled, a low, mechanical sound. “We’ll see who falters first.”