The air thickened, buzzing with the raw energy of fractured timelines, as Alastor and Lucius faced each other. Around them, the shattered remains of the Pyramid twisted and warped—moments in time bleeding into one another, creating impossible echoes of past, present, and future. In one instant, the chamber resembled an ancient tomb buried beneath the sands; in the next, it flickered into a gleaming, futuristic cathedral. Everything was in flux.

  At the center of the chaos, Lucius smiled—calm, patient, immortal. His black robes rippled as though stirred by invisible winds, and the symbols etched across his skin glowed faintly, binding him to the essence of the loop itself. He held no weapon, but time itself moved at his whim, wrapping around him like a shield.

  Alastor raised the Eye of Ra, its golden energy flickering with unstable power, ready to break free. His scarab buzzed beneath his skin, feeding him flashes of possible futures—dozens of victories, hundreds of defeats. The Codex whispered strategies in his mind, mapping out countless possibilities, each more dangerous than the last. This wasn’t just a duel—it was a war across timelines.

  Lucius’s smile deepened, his dark eyes gleaming with the quiet amusement of a man who had played this game a thousand times. "Come, Alastor," he said softly, extending a hand. "Let’s see what you’ve learned."

  And then the world shattered.

  The battle erupted across lifetimes.

  Alastor and Lucius moved through the cracks in reality—one moment fighting in the crumbling ruins of an ancient temple, the next on the streets of Skylance, where flickering neon lights clashed with the remnants of the past. Each step fractured another timeline, sending waves of alternate realities rippling outward like cracks in a pane of glass.

  Lucius struck first, warping time around himself, appearing behind Alastor in an instant. His hand flicked through the air, and a blade of pure shadow appeared, slicing toward Alastor’s spine.

  But Alastor was already moving—slipping between timelines, rewinding the moment just enough to anticipate the strike. He twisted to the side, parrying the shadow blade with the Eye’s golden energy, sparks flying as the two forces collided.

  Lucius’s laugh echoed across realities. "Good. You’ve learned to think ahead. But I’ve already seen the outcome, Alastor."

  "So have I."

  Alastor surged forward, the Eye blazing with power, and drove his fist toward Lucius’s chest. But Lucius flickered out of existence, reappearing in a different timeline an instant later.

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  Blades clashed, sparks flying, as the two immortals wove through time, each anticipating the other’s moves. Every strike they exchanged caused timelines to fracture further—ghostly echoes of battles fought in other lives bleeding into the present.

  In one timeline, Alastor drove the Eye into Lucius’s heart, only to watch him dissolve into smoke, the victory a trick, a false path. In another, Lucius’s blade cut through Alastor’s throat, but Alastor rewound the moment, returning to life just as the edge touched his skin.

  Each death became a lesson, each defeat a new strategy. This was no ordinary fight—it was a duel fought across every possible version of themselves, every reality where they had ever existed.

  They clashed again atop the ruins of a lost city, the ground shifting beneath their feet as timelines collided. Lucius fought with precision, wielding the power of the loop like a scalpel, slicing through moments with surgical intent. He didn’t need to overpower Alastor—he only needed to outlast him.

  "You can’t win this, Alastor," Lucius murmured, his voice steady, patient. "I’ve lived every version of this fight. I’ve seen every move you’ll make before you even think of it." He vanished, reappearing in a different moment, where the ruins of the past gave way to the streets of Skylance. "You’ll wear yourself down long before the end."

  But Alastor wasn’t deterred. The loop had taught him well—every failure, every mistake, every betrayal had become part of him. He wasn’t just fighting Lucius with strength. He was fighting him with knowledge.

  The Codex whispered in his mind, showing him flashes of futures—victories hidden behind failures, narrow paths to success buried within seemingly impossible defeats. He didn’t need to win every battle—just the right one.

  Lucius struck again, his blade slicing through space, aiming for Alastor’s throat. But Alastor rewound the moment, appearing behind Lucius before the attack could land. With a surge of energy, he drove the Eye of Ra toward Lucius’s back.

  Lucius spun, blocking the attack with a flicker of shadow, but this time Alastor pressed the advantage. He surged forward, driving Lucius into a fragmented timeline where the walls of the Pyramid flickered between stone and glass, past and future.

  "You don’t control this fight," Alastor growled, his eyes burning with determination. "Not anymore."

  Lucius’s smile faltered, just for a moment. And in that moment, Alastor knew he had found the crack in his opponent’s armor.

  The duel raged across lifetimes, every clash sending ripples through reality. They fought in ancient deserts, in futuristic cities, in timelines where they had never existed. Each version of themselves clashed, merged, and dissolved, like ghosts haunting the edges of time.

  Lucius fought with the calm precision of a man who had mastered death itself, but Alastor fought with something more. He fought with purpose. Every move he made was calculated, deliberate—a step toward the future he was determined to create, a future without Lucius.

  Their blades met again, and the room erupted in a storm of golden light and dark shadows, the force of their powers tearing through the fabric of the Pyramid. Reality cracked and splintered around them, each fracture pulling them deeper into the heart of the loop.

  Blades clashed, and timelines fractured, as the duel between gods began.