The ground was no longer merely earth—it had turned into molten stone and fractured crystal, glowing from the pressure of unleashed Saint-tier energies. Ethan's eyes shimmered with multiple hues—deep blue from the Psyche-Eye, crimson from Blood Magic, golden from Creation, dull grey from Curse, and so on. His tattoos pulsed like living conduits of ancient power. He stood with one knee down, breathing heavily, his aura still expanding.
Across from him floated Queen Ashtora, her form now a silhouette of brilliant, fluctuating light. Her body had become intangible—a humanoid shape of pure psychic plasma, her eyes twin novas of will. The horns on her head had grown longer, now spiraling and pulsing with dimensional static. The ten spikes on her tail had expanded outward like psychic antennae, reaching into unseen dimensions.
They had reached a stalemate, but it was the kind only demigods and sealed titans could understand—one blow away from oblivion, one breath from ascension.
