The world had gone silent.
The creatures of the Void swirled around Zane like an army answering its general’s call, their bodies nothing but writhing, jagged silhouettes. Overhead, the sun had been swallowed—leaving only a black sky split with red lightning.
Link stood opposite him, a perfect mirror in form, but his presence was nothing like Zane’s. His hair burned crimson, every strand flowing as if submerged in molten fire. His eyes were sharp embers, unblinking. And in his hands... the greatsword—its edge glowing with molten runes, dripping sparks that sizzled into the cracked earth.
"You are me," Link said, voice calm. "But weaker."
Zane tilted his head, the layered, otherworldly voice spilling from his mouth. "I am the one who was chosen. You’re just... a mistake."
The ground between them caved inward without warning. Shadow and crimson light clashed in the center, grinding against each other in a spiral of raw power. The air buckled.
A flicker of shadow—Zane was behind Link, claw sweeping for his spine. A burst of red light—Link spun, parrying in an explosion of sparks. The sound was deafening, a clash of two worlds colliding.
They struck again. And again. And again.
Each hit was a miniature catastrophe: craters bloomed beneath their feet, Void tendrils and crimson flames tearing across the battlefield.
Zane voidwalked through a collapsing shadow fissure, reappearing above Link, both blades formed from living darkness. He brought them down like the jaws of a predator.
Link raised his sword with one hand, catching both strikes. With the other, he reached out—crimson fire exploded from his palm, detonating point-blank into Zane’s chest.
The blast hurled Zane through a wall of writhing Void creatures, scattering them into smoke. He skidded back, shadows knitting his body whole in seconds.
"You can’t kill what the Void has claimed," Zane’s voice rumbled.
"Good," Link smirked. "Then I don’t have to hold back."
Crimson fire surged up Link’s sword until it became a blade of pure, condensed sunlight. Zane answered—his shadows condensed into a spear the size of a tower, its edge sharp enough to split the horizon.
Light met darkness. Darkness met light.
The collision was apocalyptic—an eruption that ripped through the battlefield, flattening everything for miles. Void beasts and Crimson Shroud alike were obliterated in the shockwave. The sky itself split open, revealing a swirling vortex beyond the clouds, as if reality was trying to tear itself apart.
Still locked, their weapons ground against each other, their eyes locked in pure, unbroken hatred.
"You’re not walking away from this," Link snarled.
Zane’s inhuman grin widened. "Neither are you."