Something in Varion snapped. He shifted halfway—bones cracking, claws bursting free as his form blurred between man and beast, rage ripping control from him.
“Then you’ll die like every other traitor,” he roared.
And then, he and Jax collided.
Steel screamed against steel. The impact reverberated through my bones as Jax caught Varion’s first strike, sparks bursting between them like falling stars. The sound cut through the battlefield noise—sharp, violent, final. For a split second, everything narrowed to the two of them. Varion attacked like a man possessed. Not calculated. Not patient. He was fury incarnate—each swing of his blade heavy with ego, each step forward driven by obsession rather than control. His movements were powerful, yes, but reckless. He wanted domination, not victory
