Pretty Insane

The throne room fell eerily silent after Rowan's words. The two combatants stood facing each other amidst the wreckage, the crumbling stone walls and shattered floor a testament to the battle they'd already fought. The air was heavy, laden with tension and the faint metallic tang of blood.

The pale man regarded Rowan with a calm, measured gaze, his dark blade resting at his side. His pristine royal attire was tattered now, streaked with dust and torn at the edges, but his posture remained poised, regal even.

"You've lasted longer than anyone I've faced in years," the pale man said, his voice cold and quiet, yet carrying a weight that filled the room. "And you still stand. I should commend you."

Rowan said nothing. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, but his grin hadn't faltered—not for a single moment. Blood streaked his face and arms, his shirt torn and burned in places, but his eyes still gleamed with that wild, untamed light.

The pale man's gaze lingered on Rowan's face, then shifted to the bloodied cracks spreading across the room. His expression darkened.

"But this is where it ends," he said, raising his free hand.

The air changed instantly.

It grew colder, sharper, biting into Rowan's skin like icy needles. The shadows that had danced along the walls began to converge, swirling toward the pale man in an unnatural current. The dark energy surrounding his blade pulsed, then expanded, engulfing him in a shroud of pure blackness.

The torches along the walls flickered violently before snuffing out entirely, plunging the room into near-total darkness. Only the faint, pulsing glow of the pale man's power remained, illuminating his form in jagged flashes.

Rowan's grin widened.

The pale man began to rise off the ground, his feet leaving the fractured floor as the shroud of energy grew denser. The blackness writhed and coiled around him, taking on shifting, monstrous shapes—clawed hands, gaping maws, jagged wings—before dissolving back into a formless void.

When he finally spoke, his voice was no longer human. It was deeper, layered, a chorus of cold, otherworldly tones that reverberated through the air.

"You are strong," he said. "But strength without control is nothing. Allow me to show you what true power looks like."

The black energy surged outward in a violent explosion, tearing through the room. The walls groaned under the force, huge chunks of stone crumbling to the ground. Rowan didn't move, didn't flinch, as the wave of darkness passed over him, ruffling his hair and clothes like a strong wind.

When the energy subsided, the pale man descended slowly, his form now cloaked in a flowing mantle of black shadows. His skin was even paler than before, almost translucent, and his once-dark eyes now glowed with a haunting white light. The dark blade in his hand pulsed with raw, malevolent energy, crackling with sharp, jagged arcs of black lightning.

Rowan tilted his head, his grin never wavering. His blood was pumping now, his entire body thrumming with anticipation.

The pale man extended his blade, pointing it directly at Rowan. "Kneel," he commanded, his voice echoing unnaturally.

Rowan didn't kneel.

He didn't laugh, either.

Instead, the air around him began to change.

It started with a faint hum, a low vibration that seemed to emanate from his very core. The blue aura surrounding his body flickered, dimming for a moment before bursting into a brilliant red. The change was immediate and overwhelming—the temperature in the room skyrocketed, the heat radiating from Rowan's body warping the air around him.

The blood-red glow spread quickly, consuming his entire form. His eyes, once bright with excitement, darkened, the irises bleeding into a deep, malevolent crimson.

Rowan's grin widened further, stretching unnaturally across his face. It wasn't a playful grin anymore. It wasn't even a madman's grin.

It was a predator's grin—threatening, menacing, and utterly devoid of humanity.

The pale man's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on his blade. He could feel it now—the shift in Rowan's presence. The wild, chaotic energy that had defined him before was gone, replaced by something darker, more focused.

"Madness," the pale man murmured, his voice soft but laced with a hint of awe. "You've crossed the line. There's no coming back now."

Rowan didn't respond. He didn't speak at all.

He simply moved.

The ground beneath his feet shattered as he launched forward, his body a blur of red energy. The pale man raised his blade just in time to block Rowan's punch, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the room.

For the first time, the pale man was pushed back.

Rowan didn't let up. He was relentless, his attacks coming faster and harder, each one fueled by the red energy coursing through his body. His movements were precise, calculated, yet there was an unpredictability to them, a chaotic rhythm that made it nearly impossible to predict his next strike.

The pale man countered with equal ferocity, his dark blade slashing through the air in sharp, controlled arcs. The shadows around him surged and twisted, lashing out at Rowan like living creatures. But Rowan tore through them with ease, his fists shattering the dark constructs as if they were made of glass.

The throne room couldn't withstand the intensity of their battle.

The floor crumbled beneath their feet, the intricate carvings reduced to rubble. The walls buckled and cracked, beams of light spilling in from the outside world. The throne itself was obliterated, reduced to a pile of splinters and debris.

The pale man growled, his composure slipping for the first time. He raised his free hand, the shadows around him coalescing into a massive, clawed appendage that swiped at Rowan with incredible speed.

Rowan didn't dodge.

He caught the claw with his bare hand, the red energy surrounding him flaring brighter as he crushed it into nothingness. The pale man's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.

Rowan's grin didn't waver.

With a burst of speed, he closed the distance between them, his fist slamming into the pale man's chest. The impact sent the man hurtling backward, his body crashing through the far wall and into the open air beyond.

Rowan stepped forward, his crimson eyes glowing in the darkness as he emerged from the crumbling ruins of the throne room. The pale man floated above the wreckage, his mantle of shadows flickering erratically.

"You…" the pale man began, his voice unsteady. He straightened, his glowing eyes narrowing as he stared down at Rowan. "You are no longer human."

Rowan tilted his head, his grin widening further.

The pale man took a slow, steady breath. "Very well," he said softly. "If this is what you've become, then I will end you here."

The shadows around him surged again, darker and denser than before. The pale man raised his blade high, the black lightning surrounding it crackling violently as he prepared to unleash his full power.

Rowan didn't move.

He stood there, bathed in the red glow of his own energy, his grin wide and unwavering.

And when the pale man attacked, Rowan met him head-on, his crimson aura flaring brighter than ever.

Their clash shook the very foundations of the sphere, the raw energy of their battle tearing through the void. For Rowan, this wasn't just a fight anymore.

It was a descent into madness. And he embraced it with open arms.