SS rank Xalvathar: The Soulweaver

Astraviel descended from the heavens, her form a glowing masterpiece of celestial energy, as though the universe had sculpted her from light and stars. The ground cracked beneath her landing, sending a shockwave that knocked soldiers and rubble alike into the air. Xalvathar turned to face her, brushing dust from his shoulders, his expression calm but his eyes betraying a flicker of surprise.

In an instant, she moved. The wind shrieked as her form blurred, striking Xalvathar with a force that sent him crashing through the remnants of the castle walls. He rebounded, standing tall amidst the debris, only for Astraviel to appear again, delivering another blow. Her fists shimmered with energy that distorted the air, and each hit shook the earth. Xalvathar staggered back, attempting to raise his hand for a counterattack, but Astraviel was already gone, her super speed rendering him helpless.

Xalvathar snarled, unleashing a wave of dark energy that spiraled toward her like a vortex. Astraviel didn't flinch. With a flick of her wrist, she used molecule manipulation to dissolve the attack mid-air, the swirling energy disintegrating into harmless particles. She stepped forward, her gaze unyielding. "Your time is over," she whispered, her voice echoing in Xalvathar's mind through telepathy.

Before he could respond, her telekinesis took hold of him. He was lifted high above the ground, his body bent unnaturally as invisible forces squeezed him. With a thought, she hurled him into a mountain of rubble, collapsing it in a deafening roar. Xalvathar emerged, his armor cracked and his expression grim, but he laughed.

"Impressive," he said, brushing off debris. "But do you know why I cannot fall? Because death doesn't touch me."

Astraviel hesitated, her cosmic awareness unraveling the truth. She could destroy him again and again, but his existence was bound to forces beyond even her reality-warping capabilities. Frustration burned in her chest, but she pushed it aside, focusing on the battle.

She unleashed a barrage of energy blasts, each one brighter and more powerful than the last. Xalvathar dodged a few but was overwhelmed, the explosions consuming him in a blinding inferno. When the light faded, he was kneeling, his charred form regenerating before her eyes.

Astraviel surged forward, morphing her arms into serrated golden blades. She struck with precision and fury, carving through his defenses as though he were nothing more than mist. Xalvathar swung back, his strength formidable, but her future sight made every strike predictable. She dodged effortlessly, countering with devastating blows that echoed across the battlefield.

Yet, as she stood over him, triumphant, the truth of his immortality weighed heavy in the air. No matter how many times she defeated him, he would rise again.

"You fight well, Astraviel," Xalvathar said, his tone mocking despite his broken body. "But you'll never be queen. You're bound by the heavens, chained to their rules. A queen must belong to her people, not the cosmos."

The words cut deeper than any blade. Astraviel's radiant form flickered, the glow dimming for just a moment as doubt seeped into her. She had always known her power set her apart, that she was more than mortal, yet less than truly free. Her abilities, magnificent as they were, made her a protector of existence itself, not a ruler bound to a throne.

Xalvathar took advantage of her momentary hesitation, rising to his feet. His grin was sharp, almost feral, but he didn't attack. Instead, he laughed, the sound carrying a cruel edge. "You'll see," he said, cryptically. "Your purpose lies elsewhere."

Before Astraviel could respond, a new presence stepped into view. The air grew cold, heavy, and oppressive as a figure emerged from the shadows. He was tall, draped in black armor etched with glowing red veins of energy, and his eyes burned like molten lava. Xalvathar's smirk faded as he turned to face the newcomer.

"Brother," Xalvathar said, his voice low and wary.

The figure, darker and more menacing than Xalvathar, regarded him with an expression that was equal parts disdain and curiosity. "You've played your games long enough, Xalvathar," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the earth.

Astraviel's gaze shifted between them, her senses reeling from the sheer power radiating off this new arrival. This was no ordinary being—he was a force, a storm incarnate, and his presence dwarfed even Xalvathar's.

"You've met your match, Astraviel," Xalvathar's brother said, his lips curling into a dark smile. "But the game is far from over."

The tension thickened, and for the first time, Astraviel wondered if even her powers had limits. The battle wasn't over; it had only just begun