The flames around Raum writhed like serpents, licking the air with tongues of death.
Four of her stood now. Identical. Perfect. Burning.
They moved in unison. Step by step. Smile by smile.
And in front of them, Azrael stood silent—blood trickling down his forearms, mixing with the ash underfoot. His breath calm. His sword gripped in both hands.
One heartbeat.
Then—
They rushed him.
A tide of flame and claws and laughter.
The air cracked under the speed.
Raum's true self stayed behind at first—watching.
Studying.
While the four illusions moved like predators, dancing in chaotic, beautiful synchrony.
Azrael didn't flinch.
He stepped forward into the onslaught.
CLANG.
The first clone's claws met steel—and shattered into fire.
Azrael didn't even watch it vanish.
His sword spun in a crescent arc.
CLANG. SLICE. WHOOSH.
A second illusion lunged low.
He pivoted over her with inhuman grace, planted his boot on her head, and launched himself into a backflip over the third.
His sword sang again—trailing light.
By the time he landed, three were gone.
Only one clone remained.
And Raum's real form still hadn't moved.
Azrael turned slowly, breathing once.
Then pointed the tip of his sword toward the last fake.
It charged.
He didn't block.
He stepped into it—and cut upward, through flame, through shadow, through illusion.
Silence.
A rain of sparks.
The Vampire of fire smirked, feeling the arousal flowing trough her veins.
And then , Azrael realized why she was standing still.
She was analyzing him, his hits, and noticed that every single slash of his sword was meant to kill, not to resist.
Then, Raum finally moved, probably after realizing a way to beat the hunter in front of her.
She vanished into a crimson flame and teleported.
One blink—she was inches from his face.
Claws dripping blood and fire.
"Zhaur'Kath Ynvel!" she shrieked. (Flames That Carve The Soul!)
Her claw struck.
Azrael raised his blade—but this time, her strike wasn't meant for his flesh.
It was for his soul.
The claw passed along the sword, sending a burst of soul-fire through the weapon and into Azrael's chest.
He staggered—once.
Pain blossomed behind his ribs. His knees bent slightly.
But, despite Raum's attack landed, he managed to resist due to his inhuman build.
Raum's smile widened.
"Oh, you felt that... didn't you?" she cooed. "That was real..."
She slashed again—faster than a blink.
"SHOW ME THAT BEAUTIFUL EXPRESSION OF PAIN, AZRAEL!" She shouted.
But Azrael had already moved.
Despite the big pain he was feeling, he managed to land a hit.
His foot slid beneath her stance, his shoulder crashed into her midsection—and he lifted her into the air, slamming her through a blackened wall.
Wood and embers exploded outward.
Raum landed in a crouch, licking blood from her wrist.
"Delicious," she whispered.
Azrael appeared in front of her mid-sentence—and punched her across the face with a blow that cracked the air.
She flew again—but this time, her claws dragged into the dirt and slowed her fall.
She twisted, mid-drag, hurling a bolt of black fire at Azrael's head.
He ducked.
The blast struck a tree behind him—and the tree ceased to exist.
No ashes.
No fire.
Just nothingness.
Azrael's jaw clenched. "So this is it," he thought. "She's not playing anymore."
Raum stood, body glowing with crimson heat, steam rising from her shoulders.
"You should've joined us when you had the chance, Azrael… We could be... invincible... together..." she hissed.
He stepped forward.
"Keep talking, monster," he muttered. "Because every single word could be your last."
Then—he vanished.
A gust of wind.
And Raum's smile died.
—He was behind her.
Slam.
The hilt of his sword cracked into her spine, folding her to the ground.
Then the blade plunged down.
Raum twisted at the last second—steel bit into her side, carving deep into her ribs but missing the heart.
She screamed—not in pain.
But in ecstasy.
"YESSSSS—!"
She caught his wrist and pulled herself along the blade like a serpent toward him, until her lips were inches from his.
"You make me feel so alive," she whispered, blood dripping from her mouth. "That's why I'll destroy you."
Then, with the last of her gathered power, she invoked the name of her forbidden spell.
Her voice echoed through the battlefield like a curse from the age before memory:
"Maer'Xul Vharim."(Curse of the Everburning Heart.)
The mark burned into her chest.
Her veins glowed.
Her soul ignited.
Azrael felt it immediately: the battlefield changed.
The temperature spiked.
The flames weren't just fire anymore—they were alive.
Every breath now burned.
Every blink felt slower.
The air thickened like molten glass.
Even he—Azrael—felt something ancient stir in the marrow of his bones.
Raum's voice echoed once more.
"You made me bleed," she said. "Now bleed with me." She added while licking her lips.
And as her form rose again, crowned in black fire, her shadow stretched unnaturally long behind her.
A monster cloaked in beauty.
A curse made flesh.
But Azrael wasn't afraid.
He only stepped forward, dragging his sword across the earth, and whispered one single word:
"Good."