Leonard exhaled slowly, allowing the floodgates of his power to open just enough to remind the world why he was called the Hero of the Light.

  The air around him shimmered, twisting as if reality itself struggled to contain the raw divine energy he channeled. The golden glow pouring from his body intensified, spilling across the cracked marble floors, licking at the walls and archways, erasing every trace of lingering darkness. The very air vibrated with an unbearable heat, not from fire, but from sheer, overwhelming radiance.

  Pollus lunged, but Leonard barely glanced at him. With a flicker of movement faster than any mortal eye could follow, he pivoted and landed a devastating kick to Pollus's chest. The impact sent the old general hurtling across the room like a ragdoll, smashing into the distant stone wall with bone-crushing force. The wall cracked from the sheer impact, sending debris tumbling down onto his prone form. Pollus coughed, struggling to rise, but Leonard had no time to spare him. A spear of light materialized in his hand, and he threw it, pinning the man in place for later retrieval once he was finished.

  He had bigger concerns.

  The Incarnation had nearly reached his men.

  Without hesitation, Leonard shot forward, his body a streak of radiant light as he intercepted the monster before it could sink its claws into the nearest revolutionaries. Dyeus flared with righteous fury, carving a deep, glowing gash through the creature’s midsection. The Incarnation let out a soundless howl, writhing against the power of the Light, flickering like a shadow caught under the blazing sun.

  The earth cracked, and a wave of power burst from the fortress, dissipating against the distant walls of the citadel with a thunderous roar. Dozens perished in an instant, but Leonard paid no attention. These were lives he could restore once he finished here.

  The battle erupted with renewed ferocity. The two clashed, sending shockwaves through the crumbling hall and shaking the entire citadel to its core. Chunks of stone broke free from the ceiling, crashing onto the hall in deafening bursts. Dust filled the air, yet the sheer brilliance of Leonard’s aura burned through it, preventing the darkness from taking hold.

  “Fall back!” Gareth’s voice rang through the chaos. A massive chunk of masonry fell upon him, but with a swing of his lance he cracked it in half, letting it fall around him.

  The revolutionaries, some still stunned by the sheer magnitude of power on display, hesitated. A few among them, those who had started to see Leonard as something more than just a man, stood frozen in rapturous awe. Others, those with steadier heads, had to physically pull them away.

  Only a few remained behind, too intoxicated by the power they witnessed.

  Leonard noted it, yet he didn’t have time to address it. He pressed his attack, keeping the Incarnation on the defensive, refusing to give it even a moment to regain its strength. He was relentless, cutting into the monstrosity’s ever-shifting form as soon as it regenerated. Each swing of Dyeus left behind trails of golden fire, holy embers that seared the entity’s essence.

  The Incarnation fought back with equal ferocity, striving to consume the very essence of the world to sustain itself. Tendrils of ravenous void lashed out, grasping at the stone, the air, the very fabric of reality. Walls warped under its touch, and the floor buckled as space distorted unnaturally. However, Leonard had flooded the chamber with so much Light that there was nothing left for it to draw upon.

  A screech emerged from its throat, raw and angry. Leonard knew it was a mere mimicry of life. The void did not feel anything but hunger.

  Still, its movements became more erratic as it tried to force his hand. More than once, the budding Incarnation tried to overtake him and reach his men, correctly understanding they were his only weakness.

  Leonard, however, knew that it would try it, and so he was there to meet its claws every time. As soon as its flesh touched Dyeus, it started smoking, unable to contain the pure holy power of the Sky Blade.

  Denied its sustenance, it was forced into a corner. Trapped.

  Leonard saw its movements change. It stilled, its body trembling unnaturally. Eerily, it twisted its form into something more human-like.

  A face emerged from the formless dark. Young and afraid, Jeremiah D’ansan was forced back into the light—or rather, his image was. This Incarnation was a surprisingly good actor, for how short of a time it had spent on the material plane. The one Leonard had fought at the apex of the Incursion had years to settle, years to spread its taint into the world, and yet it had never tried to act as human as this one did.

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  The realization that the Void could adapt to changing circumstances wasn’t a pleasant one. He knew, of course, that this version of the Abomination was simply too young to believe it could win against him, too weak yet to dare face his Light, but that didn’t make the sight any less disquieting.

  Jeremiah’s voice, fragile and desperate, echoed from within. “P-please… help me…”

  Somewhere behind him, he heard one of his men gasp. It was a convincing scene, after all. Anyone who didn’t have the deep, intimate knowledge he did would believe it was the young man still, as the Light drove back the Incarnation.

  Leonard did not believe its lie, but he allowed the farce, as it gave him the time he needed.

  The Void had destroyed Jeremiah utterly. There was nothing left. No lingering soul, no spark of humanity waiting to be saved. This was a deception, a cruel mimicry designed to weaken his resolve.

  It had underestimated him for the last time. Having already accounted for the possible deaths he would cause with his actions, Leonard was not interested in holding back anymore. It was time to end this.

  Leonard’s voice was as cold as judgment itself. “You are a mockery of life.”

  He raised Dyeus high, gathering his will, drawing upon the divine authority that had always lain just beneath the surface. The glow of his blade intensified until it was nearly impossible to look at directly. A hum filled the air, a song of righteousness, a dirge of inevitable doom.

  The Incarnation flinched. Jeremiah’s face twisted in desperate fear, “No, please! You need to help me! It’s taking over again!”

  Leonard did not hesitate.

  “Heavenly Judgment.”

  Light erupted in an explosion of raw power, a column of divine radiance spearing down from the heavens themselves. The citadel trembled under the weight of his fury, and the Incarnation’s wail of agony echoed through the collapsing hall as it was swallowed whole by the cleansing wrath of the Light.

  The darkness screamed, clinging to existence as it twisted and flailed. The raw force of the void warped and recoiled, trying to slither into the cracks of reality and escape destruction. But Leonard would not allow it.

  With a final roar, he thrust Dyeus into the very core of the being, the sacred blade acting as an anchor for the Light’s full judgment. Energy surged, brighter than the sun, consuming the last vestiges of the Incarnation’s form. For one fleeting moment, the air went still, time itself seemingly holding its breath as the darkness was burned away to nothing.

  Then, reality snapped back, free and untainted once more.

  The ruins of the great hall smoldered, the stone still glowing from the intensity of his divine power. The revolutionaries who had remained shielded their eyes, minds too overwhelmed to process what had happened.

  Leonard stood alone amidst the wreckage, his armor blackened with soot, his blade still gleaming with the Light’s radiance. Slowly, he exhaled, releasing the last traces of power back into the world.

  There was a massive hole in the ground where the Incarnation had been. It was a hundred feet deep, and if one looked up, they’d see an equally sized hole in the cloud cover above. Everything that had been there was simply erased from existence.

  Leonard didn’t spare a glance at where the Abomination had been, knowing it had been excised from the world. Instead, he turned, stepping over what remained of the cracked marble floor, his boots echoing in the silent ruin of the hall. His gaze fixed on the last man standing.

  Pollus, bloodied and battered, sat slumped against the wall where Leonard had sent him flying. A thin rivulet of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, but there was no bitterness in his expression—no anger, no desperation. Only weary resignation.

  Leonard stared for a long moment, before flexing his will. The spear that kept the old general pinned faded away, and blood gushed from the hole it left behind. “You have lost. Hassel is mine.”

  Pollus groaned in pain. It took him a minute to regain his senses enough to process Leonard’s words, though he couldn’t heal his wounds. Such was the power of the Light that any foreign force was easily dismissed. He chuckled, the sound wet and strained. “I did my duty, then.”

  Leonard frowned. “Your duty?”

  The old general nodded weakly. “That is the difference between us, Weiss. You fight for what you think is justice, for what should be. I fight for duty, for what is. I gave everything to stop you. I held the line. I bought time for the Kingdom’s armies to rally. That… was my duty.”

  Leonard’s jaw tightened. “So this was never about victory.” It was the logical explanation for the man’s actions, but he couldn’t deny he had hoped for something more. Given how desperately he had fought, Leonard had allowed himself to believe that Pollus would at least have a reason he truly believed in.

  And maybe he does, and we’re simply too different for it to satisfy me. I suffered the kingdom’s customs for so long because I believed there was a more pressing danger, but would I have even known it was wrong if I had been born into it?

  Leonard hoped he would. That slavery would have always been a blight to him, but he couldn’t be certain, and that thought made him grimace in annoyance.

  Pollus let out a slow, shallow breath. “Hetnia was never worth the resources spent on keeping her. The King understood that. But he needed time—time to purge the army of those who might sympathize with your cause, and time to rally his supporters. This war was never about winning...only about delaying." Once again, this was conveyed as a simple matter of fact. Pollus was dying and would never escape the ruined hall alive, but he didn’t care. The man was satisfied with his service to a man who wouldn’t remember his name a year from now.

  Leonard’s grip on his sword tightened. He looked at Pollus with disgust. “You sacrificed thousands, tens of thousands for nothing.”

  Pollus’ tired eyes met his. “That’s war. Men die for causes greater than themselves. My cause was the stability of Haylich.”

  A long silence stretched between them. A deep chasm separated them that couldn’t be bridged, even in this moment. They spoke freely, without the need for mummery, yet they couldn’t understand each other.

  Finally, Leonard stepped closer. “Do you have any last words?”

  Pollus shook his head. He did not beg. He did not curse. He simply closed his eyes, letting silence speak for him.

  Leonard raised Dyeus.

  The Light took him.

  The revolution had won.