Chaos moved first, as was his nature, leaping forward with the speed of a plunging meteor, chains erupting from the ragged flesh of his arms, slicing through the air like serpents of pure malice. They whipped toward the Wolf in an instant, dozens, hundreds of them, each one hungry to wrap, to bind, to crush the spirit from the soul it had barely glimpsed. But the Wolf was no less a force of predation than the Titan himself; with a single flex of its massive limbs, it vanished into a blur of shadow and magma, the ground exploding in its wake as it blurred sideways, dodging the barrage with an impossible grace for a beast of its size.

  The chains struck only empty stone, shattering it into fountains of dust and shards, and Chaos barely had time to pivot before the Wolf struck back.

  It did not lunge, not yet. It opened its monstrous mouth, a gaping void lined with thousands of serrated, interlocking teeth, spinning not with flesh or blood, but with pure energy—magma and shadow intertwining, each tooth a tiny, spinning blade of oblivion. A roar tore from the Wolf's maw, but it was not a sound meant for mortal ears. It was pressure incarnate, a concussive blast that slammed into Chaos and sent his form sliding backward across the melting stone, his chains flailing wildly to anchor himself to the ground, carving deep, desperate gouges into the arena floor.

  Chaos snarled, his ruined face twisting as he dug in his claws and stabilized, his entire form trembling with furious, ecstatic anticipation. "Good," he muttered low, too low for even the dark to hear. "Good. It would have been such a waste if you were only bark."

  He surged again, faster now, all his chains retracting in a single slithering snap, then exploding outward anew in a lattice of darkness, forming a massive net meant to smother the Wolf’s movement entirely. The arena ceiling above trembled from the force of it, and the sky seemed to blacken as his shadow magic thickened, bleeding upward and downward alike. The Wolf answered not with a dodge, but with a roar of defiance, molten eyes narrowing as it plunged forward, straight into the heart of the trap.

  The chains struck, hundreds wrapping around its limbs, its neck, its body—but the second they touched its fur, they blackened further and rotted, as if dipped into acid forged from pure hatred. The Wolf's power over darkness was not a passive thing; it was a devouring force, one that recognized Chaos’s own magic and turned it inward, corrupted it, shredded it. Within seconds, half of Chaos’s woven prison was collapsing into smoking ash, falling uselessly around the Wolf’s advancing form.

  Chaos barely had time to hiss in surprise before the beast was upon him.

  The Wolf collided with him like a falling star, jaws snapping closed inches from Chaos’s throat. Only a desperate, explosive blast of shadow launched from Chaos’s palms kept the maw from tearing his head from his shoulders. Even so, the force hurled him backward, smashing him into the arena wall hard enough to crater it, molten cracks spidering outward from the impact.

  Chaos coughed once, black blood—if it could still be called blood—hissing through his teeth as he straightened, spitting onto the ground. "You dare…" he growled, and this time there was no mockery nor laughter in his tone. He threw his hands forward and the entire floor of the arena warped.

  Chains did not merely strike now—they grew, massive black tendrils erupting from the floor, from the walls, from the very air itself, crashing down toward the Wolf like a closing ribcage of annihilation. Each chain was bigger than trees now, covered in barbs that screamed as they moved, and between them wove thin filaments of pure void, slicing even light as they snapped and recoiled.

  The Wolf moved, and it was like watching a thunderstorm come to life. It twisted through the maze of chains with impossible elegance, its body flowing like liquid darkness, never still, never stopping, its teeth spinning into a furious whirlwind whenever a chain came too close. The few tendrils that dared near were torn to molten ribbons by the vortex of its jaws, shredded so violently that the very magic binding them unraveled.

  Chaos roared, a sound that shook the world, and threw himself bodily into the melee. The two collided at the heart of the arena, claw against chain, darkness against darkness. The Wolf’s teeth raked across Chaos’s newly formed arm, stripping flesh and shadow alike, while Chaos’s clawed hands raked across the Wolf’s ribs, drawing gouts of molten blood that hissed and spat where they struck the ground.

  Blow after blow was exchanged with a fury that transcended reason. Chaos would strike with a claw of pure night, and the Wolf would counter with a crushing bite that sent waves of pressure exploding outward, flattening the ruined stands of the arena. Chains would lash and coil, snapping like whipcracks, and the Wolf’s spinning fangs would meet them head-on, disintegrating them mid-air in bursts of molten, shrapnel-like debris.

  There was no pause. No hesitation. Only an endless storm of violence.

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  They blurred across the arena in a ballet of brutality, each movement precise, lethal, and devastating. The torches around them guttered and died, unable to withstand the force of their conflict. Stone turned to molten magma underfoot and even the very air burned to breathe.

  Chaos snarled as a chain wrapped around the Wolf’s neck at last, yanking it backward, trying to slam it into the ground—but the Wolf twisted in the air with supernatural grace, using the momentum to hurl itself sideways, landing on the wall of the arena itself and sprinting across it vertically before launching itself back at Chaos.

  The Titan of Shadows caught the charge, their collision throwing up an eruption of molten stone and Sol, the force of it sending cracks through the very foundations of the realm they were in. Chaos staggered, a chain snapping from his spine to steady himself, and glared through the rising smoke. The Wolf, once again stood before him, its magma eyes burning hotter than the suns, teeth spinning in a slow, terrifying grind.

  Chaos lunged again, his chains roaring through the air like thunderous serpents, trying to cage the black Wolf against the arena walls, trying to pin its movements, to choke the savage beauty from it. But the Wolf was pure fluidity, every step like smoke given form, every dodge so tight it left sparks of shredded darkness trailing behind. The black magma dripped from its fangs in molten rivers, and its spinning teeth sang a hideous music, louder now, resonating with the very stones of the earth.

  Their clash rippled outwards, each blow colliding with the weight of storms, Chaos snarling as he sent waves of crushing darkness, the Wolf countering with bursts of molten shockwaves, the air itself splitting and fracturing between them. The shadows twisted madly, pulled toward Chaos's every step, only to recoil in agony whenever the Wolf's jaws snapped close. The black beast was untouchable, undying, a sovereign force of death clad in bleeding darkness.

  The ground beneath them shattered again and again, reforming into black-glass plains only to explode anew under the weight of their hatred. Chaos began to push harder, his body bleeding new chains by the second, his hate fueling the storm, pushing the Wolf back step by bloody step toward the arena's far wall. For the first time, the Wolf dug its claws into the ground to brace itself, the molten stone hissing under its grasp, its eyes narrowing into slits.

  Chaos laughed, a terrible, broken sound. "You are strong," he rasped, dragging chains tighter and tighter around the Wolf like a net meant for gods. He raised both arms wide, and the shadows themselves screamed, pouring from every crack, every corner of the realm, a tidal wave of pure oblivion rushing toward the Wolf, intending to drown it, to bury it, to erase its very presence.

  The Wolf lowered its stance, teeth spinning faster now, vibrating the very air, preparing for the final, apocalyptic clash, but as he did that, the sky above them broke open.

  A howl came from above. A howl so loud, so old, so vast, it did not echo, but replaced all sound, swallowing Chaos’s tidal wave of darkness mid-surge, freezing the air, the ground, even the magic itself in an instant. Chaos turned his head upward with a snarl, chains poised to strike, but what he saw made even his burning soul pause.

  From the shattered heavens, a new shape descended. A second Wolf fell from the broken ceiling of the arena, its fur pure silver-white, gleaming with a crystalline sheen. Its body was massive, even larger than the black Wolf, its paws hammering into the ground with a shockwave that turned molten stone into brittle, frozen glass. Ice exploded outward with its landing, spearing into the walls, the floor, the very air.

  Its eyes were pure white, so translucent they seemed to capture every shard of light, every secret of the world. Embedded in its forehead was a magnificent gem, a diamond so flawless it bent reality around it, the source of the endless cold pouring from its frame.

  Chaos recoiled instinctively, shielding his face from the erupting ice, his chains cracking and falling limp around him for a breath. His mind, built for hate and war, raced to comprehend what he was seeing, but no answer came. The Wolf of Magma, of Darkness, and now this—this force of absolute Winter. It was absurd. Impossible. His Origin should have consumed Kaiser utterly, forbidding any other force to enter this place.

  Yet now two ancient forces stood before him.

  The black Wolf lowered itself, baring its spiraling, grinding teeth, the molten light of its eyes flaring brighter in the presence of its kin. The white Wolf answered, its breath hissing through a mouth filled with jagged, crystalline icicle-fangs, frost trailing in every breath.

  Chaos stumbled back a step, involuntarily, chains retracting closer to his ruined body, and as soon as he did, the white Wolf moved.

  It did not charge nor did it leap in fury. It merely stepped, and as soon as it did, the arena froze completely where its paw touched, the world itself bowing to the ancient blood running through its veins. Ice raced out in jagged fractals, wrapping around Chaos’s feet, his chains, the blackened stones, freezing them solid in an instant, trapping Chaos within a deathtrap so silent it made the Titan's mind snarl with animal panic.

  Chaos roared, a sound ripped from the marrow of his bones, and burst forth with all his remaining power, the chains unraveling into pure shadow, but the moment he moved, the black Wolf was there, surging forward like a hurricane of molten teeth.

  The two wolves moved in perfect tandem, a dance of pure obliteration, their movements so fluid, so inevitable, it was as if they had been born to end him. One burned with molten fury, devouring the world’s light with every step, the other exhaled a deathless cold, freezing the very heart of existence.

  Together, they were an answer to every sin Chaos had ever committed, a reckoning long overdue. And Chaos, the Titan of Shadows, the devourer of a thousand souls, the monster who had swallowed countless beings whole, realized in that bone-deep, soul-shuddering moment that he might not survive. Not if he fought both at once.

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  Also don't forget to check out the endings of the first 10 chapters! If you've missed it, I put some pics there, and the second batch for chapters 11-20 is dropping tomorrow!