CHAPTER 85. FOUR DUKES, FOUR BLADES.

Chapter 85 – Four Dukes, Four Blades

The skies over Vermillion Spire roared with fury.

Jean, Kael, and Whitney raced across the rooftops as iron thunder rained down—ballista bolts tipped with aura-shattering steel. The Iron Empress had awakened her wrath, and with it, her Four Ducal Guardians.

Each one a Transcendent Master.

Each one a sword sharper than nations.

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From the clouds descended Duke Rhaegor of House Flameward, wielding twin sabers ignited by inner fire. His aura burned red-hot, blistering the sky itself.

To the north emerged Duchess Valeia of House Thornsong, her blade curved like a crescent moon, dancing on the wind with poison in every step.

To the south charged Duke Korran of House Dreadmaw, a towering brute clad in obsidian armor, each strike like thunder splitting mountains.

And from the shadows, unseen yet known, Duke Veyr of House Nocturn, the ghost of the battlefield—silent, cold, precise.

Kael gasped. "They're all here."

"They want to make an example of us," Jean said.

"Then we make an example back."

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The battle exploded over the Spire's bridges.

Jean met Rhaegor head-on, Luxclade clashing against flame-born steel. Aura screamed in the air as light and fire collided. Jean spun, slashed, ducked—driven not by rage but by clarity.

She had a mission now.

Behind her, Whitney leapt onto Korran's shoulder, teeth snapping against plated steel. The Duke roared and fell backward, crashing into a pillar.

Kael, though weakened, called on a sliver of moonlight—his goddess's breath returned in crisis. He moved like a whisper, blade carving crescent arcs that disarmed Valeia mid-spin.

Only one had not yet shown himself.

Veyr.

Jean paused mid-duel, eyes narrowing.

"Where's the last—"

A whisper at her neck.

"I never left."

Pain lanced across her ribs as a dagger sliced through aura.

Jean fell to one knee, but not down. She twisted, light erupting from Luxclade in a blinding arc that seared the shadows.

Veyr vanished, coughing blood.

Kael dragged her to her feet. "They'll regroup."

Jean's hand pressed to the wound. "Then we don't let them."

She turned to Kael.

"Tell me what you saw. The First Emissary. The gods."

Kael's face darkened.

"In my dreams, the Moon showed me the beginning."

"A thousand years ago… the First Emissary led the gods' will. But he defied them. He saw what they truly wanted—dominion, not deliverance. So he vanished."

Jean's heart pounded.

"He sealed the gate to the divine realm. Hid its key. The gods have been using Emissaries to find it ever since."

Jean's voice was ice.

"We're not warriors to protect the world. We're keys."

Kael nodded.

"And someone among us will open the gate again. Willingly or not."

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As the Iron Empire reeled from the chaos, Jean looked into the burning horizon.

"This war," she whispered, "is bigger than swords and dragons."

Whitney growled low in agreement.

"It's a war of gods."

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