Ethan couldn't let that happen.
Without hesitation, he hurled his teleport knife skyward, tracking the Wyrm's ascending form. The blade arced through the air like a silver comet, and Ethan teleported to meet it.
He materialized alongside the creature's massive wing, both knives ready to strike. But fighting in the air was different from ground combat. Every movement had to be calculated, every attack had to account for gravity and momentum.
Ethan's blades found their mark, carving deep gashes in the Wyrm's wing membrane. The creature's flight became unsteady, but it continued to climb, seeking the advantage of altitude.
To maintain his momentum in the air, Ethan used his flying knife as a stepping stone. The blade materialized beneath his feet, giving him a platform to push off from as he threw his teleport knife higher. He moved like a deadly acrobat, his path forming a zigzag pattern as he pursued the ascending Wyrm.
The creature fought back with renewed fury. Dozens of ice shards materialized around its body, each one sharp as a spear and fast as an arrow. They flew toward Ethan in coordinated volleys, seeking to impale him in mid-air.
Ethan's response was fluid and precise. He switched his left-hand knife from Windcutter to Ironward, the heavy blade perfect for deflecting attacks. Each ice shard that came within range was either parried or destroyed, his defensive technique flawless even while airborne.
The Wyrm tried to swat him from the sky with its massive claws, but Ethan parried each strike with Ironward. The knife was impossibly strong, its metal reinforced by telekinetic force. Even the creature's tremendous strength couldn't break through its defense.
As they climbed higher, the conditions became increasingly hostile. The temperature dropped to levels that would have killed a normal human instantly. The thin air made every breath a struggle, and the atmospheric pressure created a crushing weight that threatened to overwhelm Ethan's enhanced physiology.
But the cold affected the Wyrm as well. Despite being a creature of ice, the extreme altitude slowed its movements, made its flight less stable. Ethan seized this opportunity, switching to his ice knife to exploit the creature's vulnerability.
Frostbite's power crystallized the moisture in the air around the Wyrm's body, creating heavy shells of ice on its tail, legs, and wings. The added weight made the creature's flight sluggish, its movements predictable.
Down on the ground, Grey watched in complete awe and shock. He had thought himself close to Ethan's level, had believed that months of training had narrowed the gap between them. But seeing this aerial battle, watching Ethan move through the sky like a force of nature, he realized how far he still had to go.
*This is his real strength,* Grey thought, his earlier arrogance completely shattered. *This is what I was trying to reach.*
At a certain height, where the air was so thin that even Ethan's enhanced lungs struggled to function, he made his final gambit. He threw his teleport knife far above the Wyrm's current position, the blade disappearing into the storm clouds that crowned the mountain peak.
When he teleported to meet it, he switched knives one last time.
The Storm of Lightning knife materialized in his grip, and immediately the world changed around him. Electricity began to flow through the blade, crackling across its surface and arcing through Ethan's body. The storm clouds above responded to this electrical charge, darkening and swirling as nature itself bent to his will.
Lightning began to strike upward from the knife, creating a connection between earth and sky. The electrical discharge was so intense that it changed the very weather around them. The cold, clear air became charged with static electricity, and the scent of ozone filled the thin atmosphere.
Ethan's eyes began to glow with electrical energy, making him look like something beyond human. This was his ultimate technique, his last resort to bring the Wyrm back to earth.
The Frost Wyrm, sensing the change in its opponent, let out a final roar of defiance. It flew directly toward Ethan, its massive jaws open, ready to end this fight with one decisive bite.
But Ethan was ready.
As the two forces collided high above the mountain peak, Ethan channeled every ounce of his power into the Storm of Lightning knife. The electrical energy that had been building in the storm clouds above suddenly discharged in a single, devastating bolt.
The lightning strike that followed was visible for miles. It illuminated the entire mountain range, turning night into day for a brief, brilliant moment. The sound was beyond thunder—it was the very air itself screaming as it was torn apart by the electrical discharge.
Grey, still on the ground, was forced to shield his eyes from the blinding light. The sound was so loud it left his ears ringing, and the pressure wave from the lightning strike sent debris flying in all directions. Even at ground level, the electrical discharge made his hair stand on end.
When the light finally faded and the echoes of thunder died away, Grey slowly lowered his hands and looked up at the sky.
What he saw took his breath away.
Ethan stood on top of the Frost Wyrm's massive form, both knives in his hands, looking up at the storm clouds that were already beginning to dissipate. The creature beneath him was motionless, its ancient life ended by the devastating power of the lightning strike.
They fell together—Ethan riding the Wyrm's corpse like a meteor as it plummeted toward the earth. At the last moment, Ethan teleported away, landing gracefully on the snow-covered ground as the Wyrm's body struck the mountainside with earth-shaking force.
The battle was over.
Ethan stood among the debris of their epic confrontation, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His clothing was torn and bloody, his face marked by exhaustion and the aftereffects of channeling such tremendous power. But he was alive, and he had won.
The Frost Wyrm, ancient guardian of the mountain peak, lay dead at his feet—a testament to what a human could achieve when pushed beyond all limits.
With the creature's death, the supernatural cold that had been claiming Grey's body suddenly ceased. The ice crystals that had been forming in his blood began to melt, and feeling slowly returned to his left side. Grey pushed himself to his feet, his movements careful but steady. The frostbite marks remained on his skin, but the spreading cold had stopped.
He stood in silence, his eyes fixed on Ethan's back as the other man caught his breath. The gap between them had never been more obvious. Grey had always known Ethan was stronger, but he had believed the difference was manageable—something he could overcome with enough training, enough determination.
Now he understood how naive that belief had been.
But it wasn't just about power, was it? Grey had been pursuing strength for himself—to prove his worth, to satisfy his ego, to claim his place among the elite. Ethan fought for something else entirely. When Grey had fallen, when the supernatural cold had begun to claim him, Ethan had transformed into something beyond human. Not for glory, not for recognition, but simply because someone needed protecting.
The realization was bitter and humbling.
Ethan turned around, and the change in his expression was so dramatic it was almost comical. Gone was the deadly serious fighter who had just slain an ancient legend. In his place stood the worried man Grey knew - eyes wide with concern, face etched with panic.
"Grey! Are you okay?" Ethan rushed toward him, his hands reaching out as if to steady him. "The frostbite—can you feel your arm? Do you need—"
"I'm fine," Grey interrupted, irritation flashing in his eyes. The concern in Ethan's voice, the way he was looking at him like some fragile child who needed protection—it grated against his pride. "Stop treating me like a kid."
Ethan's expression didn't change, still scanning Grey for signs of serious injury. "But the cold, it was spreading so fast, and I thought—"
"I said I'm fine." Grey's voice was sharp, but even as he spoke, he couldn't help but notice the contrast. This man who had just channeled lightning from the heavens, who had fought a creature of legend in aerial combat, was now fussing over him like a mother hen.
Grey stood there for a moment, watching Ethan's worried expression, then felt something shift inside him. Despite his irritation, despite his wounded pride, he found himself almost... amused? This ridiculous contradiction in Ethan's personality—the way he could be a monster one moment and a caring one the next.
"The ice core," Grey said after a long moment, his voice calmer now. "For your promotion."
Ethan blinked, as if suddenly remembering why they had come here in the first place. "Oh. Right. The core." He looked toward the Frost Wyrm's massive corpse, then back at Grey with that same worried expression. "But are you sure you're—"
"Go get it," Grey said, waving him off. "I'll wait."
Ethan hesitated, clearly torn between his concern for Grey and the need to retrieve their prize. Finally, he nodded and moved toward the Wyrm's body, but not before calling back over his shoulder.
"Wait for me, okay? We'll go down together."
Grey watched him go, shaking his head in disbelief. This man had just accomplished the impossible, and here he was, worried about leaving Grey alone for five minutes. Despite himself, Grey felt a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
What a ridiculous man, he thought, but there was no malice in it. For the first time since their journey began, Grey felt something other than competitive rivalry toward Ethan. Respect, maybe. Or perhaps something closer to understanding.
As Ethan carefully extracted the ice core from the Wyrm's chest—a crystalline structure that pulsed with inner light—Grey found himself thinking about the difference between them. Both had pursued strength, but their motivations couldn't have been more different.
Grey had wanted to be strong for himself. Ethan had become strong for others.
And maybe, just maybe, that was a lesson worth learning.
When Ethan returned, the ice core secured in his pack, he immediately went back to fussing over Grey. "Are you sure you can walk? The descent is going to be treacherous, and with your injuries—"
"I can walk," Grey said firmly, though he couldn't entirely hide his amusement at Ethan's persistence. "I'm not made of glass."
Ethan looked unconvinced but nodded. "Alright, but we take it slow. And if you need to rest—"
"I'll let you know," Grey finished, already moving toward the path they had taken up the mountain.
As they began their descent together, Grey found himself stealing glances at his Ethan. The contrast was still striking—the man who had just slain a legendary creature was now carefully watching Grey's every step, ready to offer support at the first sign of weakness.
What a ridiculous man, Grey thought again, but the grin on his face said otherwise.
The mountain had tested them both, and in its own harsh way, it had forged them into something different than they had been before. Grey's pride had been tempered by the reality of his limitations, but more importantly, he had begun to understand what real strength looked like.
And Ethan had been reminded once again of the responsibility that came with his power—and the people he was willing to protect with it.
As they disappeared into the descending darkness, the Frost Wyrm's corpse began to freeze solid in the supernatural cold of the summit, becoming a monument to their victory and a warning to any who might challenge the mountain's new guardians.
For Ethan Culver had claimed his prize, earned his rank, and proven once again that when pushed to his limits, he would become whatever he needed to be to protect those he cared about.
Even if it meant becoming a monster.