"Mr. Reign, looks like the tables have turned against you."
"Mr. Koruto, you really are something—but don't forget, I am still alive. You all are nothing but worthless trash compared to me. My mana, it will never run out, and do you know why? Because I am from one of nature's most blessed races—the Elves."
"Don't worry, Mr. Reign. I'm going to end you—and that attitude of yours."
And then:
THUMP.
A heavy sound echoed from the place where Solvarin and the old man had been locked in battle.
Both of them turned their heads toward the noise.
"Well, well, well, Mr. Koruto," Wilhelm sneered, "it seems your new teammate, Solvarin, is no longer of any use."
Julius spoke to himself under his breath:
"Ah, this was expected. When Solvarin enters his awakened state, it only takes a few seconds before his entire body gives out and he passes out completely."
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Reign. I don't need Solvarin's help to defeat you."
The air was thick with the chill of encroaching night. Wilhelm hovered midair like a phantom executioner, his black cloak flaring behind him as if the darkness itself was pouring from his body. Below, Julius stood alone, the soles of his boots scraping the cracked earth, his breathing ragged. Dried streaks of blood ran down his cheek and pooled at the collar of his tattered coat.
Wind magic hummed around his clenched fists. His vision blurred, but he refused to let it fade completely. This was it. If he fell here, everything—Saya, Serena, Solvarin, and the dragon—would be meaningless.
Wilhelm's icy eyes glowed brighter as mana surged around his outstretched hands. Jagged shards of ice spiraled together above his palm into a spear nearly twice the size of a man.
With a flick of Wilhelm's wrist, the colossal spear rocketed down. Julius felt the air pressure collapse in on his ribs. He threw up both palms, screaming as he forced the last dregs of his focus into a Wind Shield.
A translucent barrier of compressed air erupted around him. The spear slammed into it with a deafening explosion that shattered the ground in a radius of twenty feet. The shield buckled, then detonated in a blast of wind and splintered ice. Julius was hurled backward, his back skidding over broken rock. The force nearly tore his shoulder from its socket.
He choked on dust and blood. Before he could scramble to his feet, Wilhelm was already descending in a graceful arc, another spear forming in his hand.
"You're nothing but a nuisance, Mr. Koruto."
Julius pressed his palm against the ground, trembling as he rose. His heartbeat felt as though it would rip free of his chest. But his eyes locked onto Wilhelm's.
I can't stop now.
He thrust one hand forward, slicing his palm open as mana welled up. Wind Blade.
The blade of compressed air ripped free in a thin arc, slashing across Wilhelm's descending path. Wilhelm twitched aside, but the edge of the Wind Blade raked across his forearm, splitting the black sleeve and leaving a crimson line.
For the first time, Wilhelm's lips curled in annoyance.
"That was almost impressive," he said softly, his voice flat with disgust.
He landed lightly on the ground, his boots crunching on the rubble. Ice crackled around his feet, freezing the ground in a spreading sheet that reached for Julius's legs.
Julius staggered sideways, narrowly avoiding having his boots locked in ice. But Wilhelm was already moving.
The Elf lunged forward, a sword of ice forming in his right hand. He thrust with inhuman speed. Julius barely managed to react. He wrenched his arm up, erecting a last-second Wind Shield. The ice sword punched through, slicing along Julius's ribs and spraying the ground with blood.
The pain flared white-hot, staggering him. He almost blacked out.
Wilhelm pivoted, his boot slamming into Julius's chest with enough force to lift him off the ground. He landed on his side, coughing red droplets.
The Elf didn't relent. A flurry of icicle shards erupted from his outstretched hand, dozens of dagger-like projectiles fanning out. Julius rolled to his knees, weaving between the spears of ice that stabbed the earth in thunderous impacts. Shards sliced shallow gashes across his arms and shoulders.
He forced himself upright, breathing in ragged gasps, and raised a trembling hand. Wind Blade.
This one, he focused every ounce of hatred and desperation into. The blade tore free in a shriek, faster and narrower than before. Wilhelm's eyes narrowed as he threw up an ice wall to intercept.
The Wind Blade smashed through it like paper, clipping his cheek and leaving a red gash. The Elf staggered back a step, bringing gloved fingers to the cut. When he looked at the blood on his fingertips, his expression shifted to something darker—an anger Julius had never seen before.
"You dare to mark me?"
The temperature plummeted. Frost formed in a spiderweb along the shattered ground as Wilhelm lifted both hands.
"Then be buried."
Pillars of ice erupted in a circle around Julius, forming a prison of jagged blue crystal. The air grew so cold his breath turned to snow. Before he could react, the pillars slammed inward like the closing jaws of a beast.
Julius bellowed, planting both hands forward. Wind Shield.
The shield expanded, barely holding the collapsing pillars at bay. Ice screeched and cracked around him. His legs buckled. His mana reserves screamed in protest—he was at the brink.
Hold… just a little longer…
But the pressure increased. The pillars groaned as they ground together. His shield flickered, cracked, and finally imploded.
The ice slammed into him from all sides. It felt like being crushed under a mountain. Something in his shoulder gave way with a wet pop.
A strangled scream tore from his throat.
When the ice receded, Julius fell to his knees in the center of a crater, one arm hanging uselessly. Blood seeped from a dozen new cuts. Every breath rattled in his chest.
Wilhelm descended to stand over him. His cold eyes regarded Julius the way a man might look at a dying animal.
"It's over."
Julius lifted his good arm, fingers trembling. Another Wind Blade began to gather—a pathetic, flickering glow compared to his earlier strikes.
Wilhelm sighed.
"Persistent to the end."
He raised one palm. A sphere of ice formed, spinning rapidly. With a flick of his wrist, it smashed into Julius's chest.
Julius was flung through the air like a broken doll. He struck the ground once, twice, and then skidded to a stop against the base of the wounded dragon. Blood pooled around his motionless body.
His consciousness flickered in and out. He could taste iron. The last thing he saw was Wilhelm floating calmly above the battlefield, untouchable.
Darkness swallowed him.