"My brother is here."
Vulkan's voice echoed across the battlefield, deep and resonant, like a rumble rising from the depths of the earth.
He raised a warhammer named Plaguebearer. Emerald-green Toxic Miasma poured from his body as though alive, enveloping him and forming a swirling vortex in the air.
Every step he took left a footprint that smoked green, and the Fungi and moss around those prints instantly grew unnaturally lush.
He walked toward Curze, the Toxic Miasma rolling around him, making him look like a god born of plague.
"Curze, I'm here."
Curze's voice was cold and sharp. He crouched slightly, crossing his arm blades in front of him in an attack stance.
His gaze stayed fixed on the figure approaching him. Hatred burned in his eyes, along with a deep resolve, as though he were facing fate itself.
"Betrayer. Traitor..." Curze's voice rang out.
"I will kill you with my own hands! Avenge the loyal who died on Nocturne! Avenge the brothers you betrayed!"
Curze charged through the Toxic Miasma toward Vulkan.
His speed was astonishing, leaving a black afterimage in the air. His arm blades carved two silvery arcs through the Toxic Miasma, aimed straight at Vulkan's throat.
Vulkan raised his warhammer high, still smiling, but there was no warmth in that smile, only the cold composure of a hunter watching his prey.
His gaze followed Curze's moving figure. The warhammer in his hand never slowed; instead, it accelerated downward the instant Curze drew close.
The warhammer fell with crushing force, tearing through the air with a piercing howl.
Curze twisted aside. The warhammer skimmed past his shoulder and slammed into the ground.
Boom!
The immense force blasted a crater several kilometers across into the ground. Dirt and rock flew in every direction, and the shock wave