Radahn slashed with both blades, gravity magic coiling around them, every stroke powerful enough to move mountains and overturn seas. His sweeping swordplay fully inherited Radagon's brutally unreasonable aesthetic of violence, but he had worked his own understanding and innovations into it-faster, fiercer, crazier.
Rennala waved her staff again and again, unleashing spells that burst like fireworks. She sought frequency and density rather than the power of any single shot-Comet, Glintblade, Glintstone Pebble, one after another, layer upon layer, like a torrential downpour.
Ranni stood at a distance with her staff raised, the power of the Dark Moon gathering around her. Unhurried and composed, she placed every spell precisely where it would hurt Radagon most-his flanks, his back, his blind spots. She was weaving a net of magic, an inescapable net of death.
The God-Devouring Serpent fought most desperately of all. With no regard for his own safety, he opened his bloody maw, tore with his fangs, and swept his tail, turning his enormous body into the ultimate weapon. A pool of lava spread beneath him, and flames gathered in his mouth. He fought in the most primitive, savage way imaginable.
Everyone watched the furious battle unfold-the Stone Hammer clashed with the Greatsword, spells exploded in wild succession, lava splashed, golden light blazed, and the entire space trembled.
But on closer thought-
The people fighting so fiercely were all one family.
Radagon, Rennala, Radahn, Ranni, Rykard. A father, a mother, two sons, and a daughter. All the strife in the Lands Between ultimately stemmed from one complicated, twisted family dispute-husband against wife, father against son, siblings against one another. It was as lamentable as it was absurd.
The world's fate was not decided by the majority, but dictated by the will of a tiny few. They enjoyed 99.99 percent of