The broken remains of a lost world floated through the Void. Shattered temples and crumbling towers drifted silently, the only witnesses to the battle about to unfold.
On the largest fragment, a cracked island of stone, two figures stood facing each other beneath a dead sky.
The first figure, a tall yet sturdy man clad in battle-scarred silver armor, tightly gripped his sword, its crimson blade humming low with a thirst that had tasted the blood of gods. Yet, on closer view, one could detect that this figure was down, exhausted.
Opposite him stood a figure wrapped in blinding light, a god.
The glow around him was so bright that it blurred his form, but the weight of his presence was undeniable.
This was the end.
"You look tired, Defier," the godly figure said, his voice calm yet echoing like thunder. "You've fought long. You've lost everything. Surrender, and I will grant you a clean death."
The First Defier spat blood onto the ground and gave a crooked grin.
"Funny," he rasped. "I thought gods were supposed to be merciful. Guess I was wrong."
He lifted his sword. Even the Void seemed to hold its breath.
"You were wrong about many things," the god replied, stepping forward. The ground seemed to crack under his feet.
"You believed mortals could rise above their place. You believed rebellion could change destiny. Now look at you, standing alone."
The armored man chuckled through the blood staining his teeth.
"I'd rather stand alone than kneel surrounded."
Without another word, he charged.
BAAAM!
Their clash shook the broken land.
Steel met divine power in bursts of force that rattled the sky.
The armored man moved fast, striking with a desperate, wild grace, but the god matched every blow, each strike of his staff breaking apart the ground.
Ruins crumbled. Chunks of stone fell into the endless dark below.
"You failed them!" the god roared, deflecting another furious strike.
"They failed themselves... when they chose fear over freedom!" the armored man snarled back, even as blood ran down his side.
He unleashed a wave of searing energy, a storm of fire and soul-force.
The god caught it easily in one hand, crushing it into nothing.
"You still don't understand," the god said coldly.
"There is no freedom. Only the order we give."
"And yet," the armored man said through gritted teeth, "here I am... still standing."
Their battle raged on, a storm of violence and stubborn will. It was like the realm of gods and men was in a temporal pause, as every strike made every matter tremble.
The armored man fought like a man who had already accepted death, every swing of his sword fueled by the hope of a world that might never be.
But the god's power was endless. His presence crushed the hope from the air.
He never let a strike slide, nor did he let the attack of his enemy hit straight at him. This was the man that had troubled the heavens and defied authority, and he would never let him live for another day.
The armored man, on the other hand, had already been weighed down by fear, betrayal, and negligence from the people he trusted the most — the people he thought would join him in the long run to defy vile divinity.
There were worse occasions after that, but all in all, he knew this was the final moment of his life.
He had lost everything after all...
One final successful strike from the godly figure hit the most crucial point of his body, and then...
The Defier staggered.
Just for a second.
It was enough.
A spear of pure light shot from the god's palm, piercing through the Defier's chest.
The sword slipped from his hands, clattering onto the stone.
The Defier dropped to one knee, blood pooling at his feet.
The god stepped closer, towering over the broken rebel.
"You were a candle," he said, his voice almost kind. "A beautiful flame... but flames always burn out."
The Defier coughed, the taste of iron thick in his mouth.
Still, his eyes burned with the same fire they always had.
Slowly, painfully, he smiled.
"Better to burn out bright... than rot in chains," he whispered.
"But get this into your mind..."
"The Flame is not dead."
With the last of his strength, he slammed his fist into the ground.
A shockwave rippled outward — a final roar of defiance, shaking the Void one last time.
The earth cracked apart. The sky seemed to scream.
The god watched in silence as the First Defier collapsed, unmoving.
And so the Defier fell.
Not with a whimper.
Not with surrender.
But with a smile... and a spark that refused to die.