Clash of fate

The world seemed to hold its breath.

Kieran felt his heart pounding in his chest. Rebel stood before them, his expression unreadable, golden eyes glowing faintly.

The artifact pulsed behind him, a fragment of Natuka's lost power.

The moment stretched—

And then, Rebel **moved**.

It wasn't an attack. Not yet. Instead, he stepped forward, his gaze flicking between them. "You don't understand what you're doing."

Elara bared her fangs, her shape-shifted form tense. "We understand enough."

Rebel exhaled, almost disappointed. "I hoped you'd be different."

Then—he **vanished**.

A rush of wind. A blur of motion.

Kieran barely had time to react before **a hand closed around his throat**.

---

### **The Power of the Past**

Kieran gasped, struggling against Rebel's grip. His body lifted off the ground as Rebel's golden eyes locked onto him.

"I don't want to fight you," Rebel said quietly. "But I will."

Kieran's vision **flashed**—

A glimpse of a thousand possibilities.

A blade cutting toward him. A strike from Elara. A movement he could make—

Kieran twisted **before** Rebel could react, slipping from his grasp. He hit the ground and rolled, dodging as Rebel's next strike came down.

Elara lunged from the side, shifting mid-air into a **winged creature**, her claws slicing toward Rebel's shoulder.

Rebel turned at the last second—**redirecting her momentum effortlessly**.

Elara crashed into the ruins, stone shattering beneath her.

Kieran barely had time to think.

Rebel was strong. Too strong. **But he wasn't invincible.**

Kieran focused. He reached deeper into his power, searching for the path that led to victory—

And then he saw it.

A single opening.

He lunged forward, aiming for the artifact itself—

But Rebel was faster.

The air **shattered** around them as Rebel **unleashed his power**.

---

### **The Breaking Point**

Kieran barely saw the movement—**a pulse of golden energy** radiating from Rebel's hand.

The force sent him **flying**.

Elara **shifted** mid-air again, catching Kieran before he hit the ruins. She landed in a crouch, her breath ragged.

Rebel stood untouched, lowering his hand.

"I warned you," he said, voice cold. "You aren't ready."

Elara growled. "We'll never let you take that artifact."

Rebel tilted his head. "Why?"

Kieran steadied himself. "Because we know what you are."

Rebel studied them for a long moment. Then, to their surprise, he laughed.

"You still think I'm your enemy."

His fingers brushed the artifact. The golden energy around it **flared**.

"You don't understand." His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was undeniable. "I'm not taking this for power."

Elara's eyes narrowed. "Then what?"

Rebel hesitated.

For the first time, there was something **human** in his expression.

"This artifact is broken," he said. "Like Natuka. Like everything in this world. I'm not stealing its power."

His gaze darkened.

"I'm trying to fix it."

Kieran's breath caught.

For a split second, **doubt** crept into his mind.

Was Rebel telling the truth?

And if he was—

What did that mean for everything they had fought for?

---