The world went weightless.
As the central thread of the Loom snapped, the hum of the gravity-plates died with a mechanical groan that shook the sky. The city of Aethelgard didn't just drop—it tilted. Palaces of white obsidian began to slide, and the Great Mana-Tree at the center of the city uprooted, its glowing leaves scattering like sparks in a gale.
"Kael!" Silas screamed, his fingers clawing at the silver floor as the Star-Spire leaned at a terrifying 45-degree angle. "We're falling! We're actually falling!"
Kael didn't look at the horizon. He stood perfectly upright, his boots locked to the tilted floor by Varg's shifting mass. The three Norns were dissolving into grey mist, their gear-eyes spinning until they shattered into shards of gold.
"The banquet is over," Kael whispered, his voice cutting through the roar of the rushing wind.
With a violent burst of speed, Kael leaped from the crumbling Spire. He didn't fall; he glided. Varg had expanded into a massive, tattered Viking Cloak of blood-red crystal, catching the updrafts of the collapsing city.
He soared toward the High Palace—the only structure still glowing with a faint, dying amber light.
Kael slammed onto the Royal Balcony, his impact shattering the marble.
There, standing amidst the chaos of a falling world, was King Harald.
He looked exactly as Skane remembered him: golden hair, a perfectly groomed beard, and eyes that held the chilling calm of a man who believed he was destined to rule the stars. He wore a crown of three points, but it wasn't gold anymore; it was made of the same silver fate-threads Kael had just snapped.
"Skane," Harald said, his voice effortless despite the wind. "I should have known the mud wouldn't hold you. You always were too stubborn to stay in your grave."
"Harald," Kael growled, the Shifter-mask on his face retracting to show his young, scarred visage. "You used our brothers. You burned their souls to keep your feet off the ground."
Harald smiled, a thin, cruel line. "I gave them a purpose. In the North, they died for a scrap of frozen dirt. Here, they powered a paradise. I am the Architect, Skane. You are just the wrecker."
Harald raised his hand. From his shadow, a beast emerged that made the Shadow-Stalker look like a pup. It was a Chronos-Hydra—five heads of shifting sand and gold, each one representing a different timeline. It was the ultimate gift from the Norns.
"Varg," Kael signaled, his heart hammering against his ribs. "The End of Days. Give me everything."
The Shifter didn't just form a weapon. It merged with Kael's biology. The obsidian and blood-red crystal flowed into Kael's veins, turning his skin into a living armor of runic scars. His height surged, his muscles expanded, and the Blue-Ice Axe grew into a massive, two-handed World-Breaker.
"ULTIMATE TEMPLATE: THE RAGNARÖK HUSCARL."
Kael charged.
The Hydra's heads lashed out, spitting beams of "Time-Rot" that aged everything they touched. Kael didn't dodge. He swung the World-Breaker, the frost-edge of the axe freezing the very air, creating a path of solid ice through the decay.
CRACK.
Kael cleaved the first head of the Hydra. Instead of blood, golden sand poured out.
Harald's eyes widened. He drew a rapier of pure light and lunged. The two Kings met in the center of the collapsing balcony. Steel met Shifter-Ice. The shockwave blew the remaining glass out of the palace windows.
"You can't win!" Harald hissed, his rapier dancing with supernatural speed. "I have the threads of fate! I see every move you make before you think it!"
"Then see this," Kael roared.
He dropped the axe.
Harald smirked, thinking it was a mistake—but Kael grabbed the King's blade with his bare, Varg-clad hand. The light-blade burned through the Shifter-armor, searing Kael's palm, but he didn't let go.
Kael pulled Harald close, headbutting the King with the force of a battering ram. The three-pointed crown flew off Harald's head, spinning into the abyss below.
"Fate is for those who are afraid to choose!" Kael screamed.
He tackled Harald over the railing.
The two men plummeted toward the clouds, locked in a deadly embrace. Around them, the city of Aethelgard was disintegrating, massive chunks of silver and stone falling like meteors.
Kael looked Harald in the eye as they fell.
"The mud is waiting for us, Harald," Kael whispered. "Just like last time."
With a final surge of power, Varg formed a Single, Massive Spike of obsidian from Kael's chest. It drove straight through Harald's heart—the same spot where Harald had stabbed Skane ten years ago.
Harald's eyes turned dull. The golden light of the Hydra faded into the mist.
"You... fool..." Harald wheezed, blood flecking his lips. "We're... both... dying..."
"I've done it before," Kael said. "I'm good at it."
BOOM.
The city hit the ground. A cloud of dust and mana-smoke miles high rose into the atmosphere, visible from every corner of the kingdom.