"I don't know what you're planning, Commander…" I mutter under my breath, fists tremble at my sides. "But whatever it is… it better work."
The battle ahead rages like the end of the world.
Commander Arvell and the Lava Giant are locked in a brutal exchange — pure power collides against raw fury.
Each impact splits the air like thunder.
The Lava Giant surges with terrifying force.
Every punch tears through the air, wrapped in blazing fire that scorches everything it touches. The ground beneath its feet cracks open with every step, molten lava spilling out to mark its path.
Its roar shakes the forest — uprooting trees, turning leaves to ash.
It no longer looks like a monster.
It appears a demon — a creature born in the heart of a volcano, here to scorch the world itself.
And yet… Commander Arvell doesn't yield.
His blade howls through the air, each swing slicing through stone, flame, and shadow alike.
Every strike could kill a lesser being a hundred times over — but against this monster, even his power struggles to matter.
The few wounds he manages to inflict seal almost instantly, molten flesh reforming like liquid steel.
The Commander's breathing grows heavier.
His armor shatters in places, his aura flickers around him like a dying flame.
He pushes past his limit — burning through his mana, his stamina, his very life — and still, he fights.
A sick realization settles in my chest.
He runs out of time.
And yet… he doesn't retreat.
He keeps guiding the monster deeper into the forest, every movement deliberate, as if he leads it somewhere.
I grit my teeth, forcing my shaking legs to hold me steady.
Whatever he plans… it has to work.
Because if it doesn't — then not even a trace of him will remain.
---
The forest burns.
Each swing of the Lava Giant's arm sends a wave of molten air roaring through the trees, reducing trunks to black pillars of smoke. The ground trembles beneath its steps; molten veins spread outward, glowing like the cracks of a dying world.
Commander Arvell moves through the inferno with precision — no wasted motion, no panic, just the sharp rhythm of a man who lives too long on the edge of death. His breath rasps through the broken slits of his helmet.
Step. Parry. Redirect. Retreat.
Each strike he blocks feels heavier than the last. The sheer force behind the monster's blows numb his arms through layers of armor. Flames lick at his shoulders. His aura barrier flickers with every impact, thinning, fading.
But still… he doesn't stop.
Not yet.
He leaps back as a molten fist crashes down, splitting the earth where he stands. Lava splashes outward, scalding and bright. A streak of it catches his leg — the pain is instant, searing — but Arvell barely grits his teeth. Pain is a familiar companion.
He guides the fight for nearly half an hour now. Step by step, deeper into the dark stretch of the western forest — the only area dense enough to conceal what he prepares.
The Lava Giant, in its frenzy, doesn't notice. Its roars drown out reason.
Another fiery strike tears through the air, and Arvell rolls to the side, the heat brushing dangerously close to his face. He comes up on one knee, sword raised. His eyes — cold, sharp, calculating — flick briefly toward the faint shimmer of mana in the distance.
He's still following me.
Even through the chaos, he senses it — that faint ripple of energy, the boy's presence like a small, stubborn flame in a sea of fire.
Kael Thorne.
Of course he wouldn't run.
A part of Arvell wants to curse him. Another part… understands.
"Foolish boy," he mumbles under his breath, his tone more weary than angry.
The Lava Giant charges again, dragging a molten arm through the ground and flinging a wave of fire toward him. Arvell plants his blade into the earth — mana flares around it, forming a translucent dome of blue energy that shatters the firestorm in a thunderous flash.
The explosion rips through the trees. Ash falls like black snow.
When the smoke clears, Arvell moves again — circling, always circling — pushing the monster farther west, where the terrain dips downward into the forest's heart.
Every motion costs him. His aura drains faster now, his sword arm heavy and slick with blood. The burns along his ribs sting each time he breathes.
But his eyes never waver.
He's close.
Just a little farther.
The Lava Giant howls, flames bursting from its back in furious waves. It swings wildly, smashing through trees, carving wide craters into the ground. The forest screams with every strike.
Arvell uses its fury — turns it against it. He ducks low, sliding beneath a sweeping arm, then drives his blade upward along the monster's molten limb. The steel glows red from the contact, melting at the edge, but the attack works — the limb bursts in a spray of lava.
The creature roars, staggering back.
But before Arvell can even breathe, the wound begins to heal — magma flows, flesh seals.
Its regeneration is faster now.
He can't win this through strength.
He never plans to.
The commander retreats a few steps, sweat and blood mix beneath his armor. His sword hand trembles, and the familiar ache in his core deepens — the old scar left by a battle long ago, the one that never truly heals.
His aura flares again, a dim blue glow pulsing from his chest like a dying heartbeat.
Just a little more time.
The ground ahead slopes downward into a basin — the forest thick and dark, the air heavy with the scent of sulfur and rot.
---
The western forest slopes downward into a vast, unnatural hollow — a scar on the land that should not exist.
From where I stand, half-hidden behind the shattered husk of a fallen tree, I see the Commander and the Lava Giant descend into it. The ground here twists downward in a spiraling formation, like something once burrowed out of the world itself.
Smoke pours into the crater's mouth, drifting over walls of blackened rock slick with ash and half-melted soil. The deeper it goes, the less sunlight reaches it — until even the glow of lava becomes dim, swallowed by the choking haze.
For a moment, it feels as though the entire forest holds its breath.
Arvell doesn't hesitate. He moves down the slope, every step measured and sure, even as the earth trembles beneath him. The Lava Giant follows, roaring in blind rage, each stride sends molten cracks racing through the basin's floor.
From up here, I can barely breathe.
Something about that place feels wrong.
Not just dangerous — wrong.
The air around it hums faintly, thick with a strange pressure that makes my head throb. The hairs on my arms rise, and the mana in my veins stirs like it reacts to something ancient and heavy.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay still, but a strange warmth begins to spread through my body. My limbs grow heavier. My heartbeat slows.
…Why do I feel—
Tired?
No. Not tired.
It's like something whispers to me — a voice I can't hear, yet it seeps into my mind, gentle, soothing, inviting.
My eyelids begin to droop.
The smell of smoke fades. The sound of battle drifts away, muffled, like I'm sinking underwater.
There is peace here.
Warmth.
It calls to me—
"Kael. Wake up, you fool."
A deep, ancient voice splits through the haze like a blade.
My entire body jerks. My breath catches in my throat as the comforting fog tears apart, replaced by cold clarity.
Noctharion's voice echoes directly inside my skull — low, resonant, filled with restrained fury.
A burning pain flares behind my eyes as my vision sharpens again. The warmth vanishes, replaced by the biting chill of reality.
The crater.
The fire.
The battle still rages below.
My knees give out, and I drop to one hand, gasping, sweat pours down my face. My heart races as though I've just escaped drowning.
"You almost fell," Noctharion growls. "Something… tries to enter your mind. To lull you into silence."
"Wh… what?" My voice comes out hoarse. "What are you talking about?"
"Something tries to control your mind. Whatever it is, it's using mana as a conduit to control others."
I look toward the crater again.
The air there still twists — faint waves of distortion ripple across it, visible even through the smoke.
My breath catches. "You mean… something tries to control me?"
"Tries… and fails."
There is a dangerous satisfaction in the ancient voice.
"I sever its hold the moment it touches you."
A sharp chill runs down my spine.
"It is not the Lava Giant," Noctharion says darkly. "That creature is merely a vessel. A puppet."
My eyes widen.
Commander Arvell's voice echoes in my memory — his words before the battle begins.
"There's another S-rank monster out there. The one controlling the monster."
Could this be… that monster?
I look down at the crater again.
The Lava Giant bellows, its voice shaking the air. Arvell meets it head-on, sword raised, his aura a fading beacon amid the storm of fire.
But now that I see clearly — truly see — I notice something else beneath the flames.
The ground itself pulses.
Not from the monster's steps… but from within.
A faint rhythm.
Slow. Steady. Alive.
Like a heartbeat.
"What… what is that?" I whisper.
"I don't know what it truly is," Noctharion's voice rumbles through Kael's mind, low and cold. "But that presence… it is not a natural lifeform. It reeks of creation — something forged, not born. A monster crafted by mortal hands to command others."
The moment those words leave his mouth, a low vibration rolls through the air — deeper than thunder, older than sound. The ground shakes beneath me, dust slides off nearby rocks.
Down below, the Lava Giant halts mid-charge. Its molten eyes flicker.
Even it seems to feel the tremor.
Arvell glances around sharply, blade raised, his instincts sense the shift immediately.
The air around the crater distorts — the smoke bends inward as though drawn by an unseen pull.
For one fleeting second, the fire dims.
Then, at the center of the crater, the ground moves.
A fissure opens. Slow. Deliberate.
And from it, something like a pulse of darkness spreads outward, invisible yet heavy enough to make my chest tighten.
"Kael, whatever lurks in that place… it's something that should never exist!" Noctharion roars, his voice trembling with unrestrained fury.