The world stilled as the Divine Envoy descended. Light drowned the arena, erasing color, shadow, and reason.
Disciples shielded their eyes; the ground itself trembled beneath the weight of that sacred presence.
Kael stood at the center of the devastation he had wrought, his blood still smoking on the cracked tiles, his sword humming with defiance.
The golden figure before him radiated authority so pure it hurt to look upon.
“Kael, the Twice-Forsaken,” the Envoy said, voice like molten brass. “You defied Heaven once, and still you crawl from the ashes? The gods’ mercy ends today.”
Kael spat blood onto the glowing floor. “Mercy?” His laughter was dry and sharp. “Is that what you called the centuries of torment? The silence while my world burned?”
The Envoy raised its hand. “Blasphemy
