The battle should still be happening. But Malachar stopped. He's circling you now, slow and deliberate, dark energy coiling around his hands like smoke that forgot how to burn. The rubble around you is still settling. Your light flickers at your fingertips, steady - or close enough. Then he smiles. Not a fighting smile. A knowing one. He found the files. Your redacted origin, the name you buried, the darkness you swore you left behind. He's been carrying it like a weapon, waiting for exactly this moment. He doesn't need to throw a punch. He just needs to push the right nerve - and watch what crawls back out of you.