A heavy silence blanketed the battlefield.
Sultan and Thunderstorm stood across from each other—neither flinching, both radiating raw power. The tension was thick enough to snap steel.
Then, Thunderstorm moved.
In a blur, he dashed forward—and Sultan mirrored him. Fists collided. The air rippled with shockwaves.
They traded blows, knuckles cracking like thunderclaps. Sultan's fists were as hard as stone, each punch precise and brutal—like a seasoned warrior honed by years of war. Thunderstorm, less trained in hand-to-hand combat, took the hits head-on, staggering but refusing to fall.
He gritted his teeth.
"I can't lose here."
With sheer will, he struck back.
His fists sparked with lightning—wild, untamed, but powerful. One strike. Then another. Sultan's eyes narrowed, caught off guard by the surge.
"You're good," Sultan muttered, blocking a jab. "But still lacking the feats."
Thunderstorm said nothing. His silence thundered louder than words.
Sparks danced across his body as he leapt into the sky, hovering like a storm god made flesh. Lightning coiled around his arms, swirling into his palms.
He shaped it—a bow. A crackling, electric bow.
A bolt of pure energy formed on the string.
With a silent exhale, Thunderstorm drew it back—and released.
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion lit the skyline, shockwaves rippling across the city.
---
Back in Ultra City…
Citizens stared up at massive screens across buildings, mouths agape, hearts pounding.
A hero was rising.
Gasps filled the streets.
Crowds gathered around TVs, phones, and holographic projections. Eyes wide. Hearts trembling.
"He's actually standing his ground…" one citizen whispered.
"But… will it be enough?" another asked, doubt thick in their voice.
Then a voice cut through the crowd—firm, loud, unshakable.
"Enough of the doubts!" a woman shouted. "Enough of the 'will they win?' and 'can they do it?' They're out there bleeding for us while we sit here questioning them!"
The crowd turned toward her.
"You heard what the Commander said—no one's coming to save us. This is it. So either shut up and support the heroes, or accept we're already dead!"
Silence fell. Then slowly—cheers began to rise.
---
Back on the battlefield…
Thunderstorm held his ground.
Bruised. Breathing hard. Sparks flickering across his skin.
He glared at Sultan through the smoke, shoulders trembling but unbowed.
"If you told me ten years ago I'd be a hero," he growled, "I'd have laughed my ass off. But here I am—out here giving you a brawl."
Sultan scoffed. "You call this a brawl? I'm the one giving you a beat—"
CRACK!
A fist slammed into Sultan's jaw, silencing him mid-sentence.
Thunderstorm's eyes flared with electricity.
"You cry about the world turning its back on you," he spat, fists clenched. "But if you knew my story… you'd know I'm a victim too. We all are. But we still fight!"
Their fists flew again—a violent storm of rage and pain.
Then—Sultan's eyes glowed.
He raised a hand, and Thunderstorm's body jerked forward—telekinesis.
BAM! BAM!
Two brutal punches slammed into Thunderstorm's chest, sending him skidding across the battlefield.
But he didn't fall.
Lightning sparked again across his body. His fingers twitched. His eyes still burned.
---
Inside the Command Tower…
The command hub buzzed with tension. Screens flickered. Data surged. Sparks danced across monitors like digital omens.
Layla stood beside Johnathan Flicker, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the live transmission.
She broke the silence.
"Sparky's doing well."
Johnathan, tense and chewing the inside of his cheek, nodded.
"Yes ma'am… he's doing really well. But—he's already drained. The guy's running low, and Sultan still looks like he's got enough juice to flatten a mountain. Someone's gotta assist him. Fast."
Layla didn't look away from the screen.
"Be calm, Mr. Flicker. They'll all get up. Just give them time."
She turned briefly to him, her voice low but firm.
"And Thunderstorm? He's doing more than just well. You can see it—Sultan's starting to look nervous."
"If you say so, Commander…" Johnathan muttered, trying to trust her calm while his heart raced.
---
Back on the battlefield…
Sultan hovered like a tyrant god, his cloak of sand swirling behind him.
He raised both hands—two massive rocks floated beside him—then shattered into jagged, deadly shards.
"Let's dance, lightning boy."
The rocks launched.
Thunderstorm ducked and weaved, but with each strike, fragments slashed out like stone daggers. One grazed his arm. Another bruised his ribs.
Still, he didn't fall.
With a defiant scream, he clapped his hands—lightning surged outward in wild arcs, electrifying the battlefield. The storm sky lit up like a war drum. The earth itself trembled.
The two titans collided once more, their powers exploding against each other.
Both were flung backward by the force.
The sky roared above them, clouds spiraling in fury.
Thunderstorm stood tall, knees shaking, eyes glowing with stormlight.
"As you can see, Sultan… the sky rages against you. It's ready to rain down its fury."
Sultan scoffed.
"The sky can cry all it wants."
Clouds churned.
Lightning gathered.
Thunderstorm inhaled deeply, chest rising like a charging core.
"Eat this… Roar of the Sky!"
The heavens screamed.
Lightning shot down in a massive arc, targeting Sultan from all sides. The blast shook the battlefield. Sparks exploded like fireworks. Tremors spread across Ultra City.
Thunderstorm dropped to his knees, panting, every breath heavy.
"My body… it's so tired…"
He blinked.
The smoke cleared.
Left—no Sultan.
Right—nothing.
Then—
Right in front of him.
Sultan stood, bruised—but not broken.
"Nice move, Mr. Thunder," he said calmly. "But those sparks don't affect a god."
Thunderstorm's heart sank.
I can see the burns… the bruises… the attack hit him. So how—how is he still standing?
I guess… this is it. I can't move anymore…
Sultan raised his fist.
The final blow.
---
FWOOOSH!
A shining blade sliced through the air.
World Cutter!
Sultan flinched and dodged just in time.
A glowing portal opened.
From it stepped Sage—robes swirling, eyes blazing with ethereal light.
He caught Thunderstorm before he fell.
"You did well, Tyler," Sage said softly. "You've done more than enough. Let us handle it from here."
Thunderstorm smiled, exhausted. He managed a weak nod.
Sage stood, facing Sultan.
His voice was calm—but behind it surged a wrathful magic.
"You're going down."