The first thunder didn't come from the sky.
It came from ahead.
It came from the impact — dry, deep — that made the air vibrate like a torn drum.
Karna lifted his face for an instant, rain sliding down his skin, before drawing another arrow.
The soaked leather of his clothes creaked at each movement, clinging to his body like that of a hunter in the middle of a siege.
The screams of the Drakkoul cut across the field.
The screams of the men answered.
Karna exhaled slowly.
"Here we go again…"
He released the arrow.
The shot tore through the tension in the air, hitting the Drakkoul at the exact moment it leapt onto a soldier.
The creature's body fell into the mud, heavy as wet stone.
Another thunder echoed — stronger.
The ground vibrated under Karna's feet.
"That wasn't the sky…" he muttered, preparing another arrow.
A figure appeared on the left, far too silent for someone wearing light metal.
"Starting off well already," Karna grumbled without looking. "If you're coming at me like that, it's because you want to give me trouble."
Kaelir stopped beside him, clothes plastered to his body by the rain, eyes fixed on the distant wall. He didn't seem affected by the chaos around them.
"I came only to remind you," Kaelir said, voice firm, almost ceremonial. "Advance. Keep formation. Don't get distracted."
Karna let out a short laugh, almost disbelieving.
"Distracted? With all this noise? With these things trying to rip out our livers?" He released another arrow and dropped another Drakkoul. "I'm offended, Kaelir. Truly."
Kaelir tilted his head slightly, like someone who didn't have time to keep up.
Another thunder rose in the distance, resonating through the rain.
Karna clenched his jaw.
"She's fighting," he said, lower, almost unintentionally.
Kaelir answered without shifting his gaze:
"Brianna knows how to protect herself."
Pause.
"The urgency isn't because of her."
The sentence fell like stone.
Karna froze for a moment.
Kaelir continued:
"The sooner we take that wall, the more lives we preserve. Men, women, children… everyone behind us now depends on the advance." He lifted his chin, watching the distant flash splitting the field. "The path must remain open. That is the duty."
Karna blew air through his nose.
"You spoke too beautifully for this place," he said, drawing another arrow.
The rain hit harder.
The field roared.
And another rumble shook the horizon.
Karna stared at the bluish glow forming between the shadows.
"She's holding…" he murmured.
Kaelir replied only:
"She will not retreat."
Karna raised his bow slowly, muscles tense beneath the heavy rain.
His eyes searched for the glow again — and finally found it.
Among the chaos, among the shards of light and twisted shadows, there they were.
Brianna advanced like a living blade, hair glued to her skin by the rain, bluish magic crackling around her fingers like cold embers.
Whirok surrounded her with shadows that writhed, alive, hungry.
With every clash between the two, the air buckled.
The earth trembled.
The storm roared louder, as if trying to hide the confrontation.
Karna gripped the bow tighter.
"She really is holding…" he murmured, this time with a silent pride burning in his chest.
A Drakkoul appeared to his right, running on four limbs, mouth open in a grotesque roar.
Karna didn't take his eyes off Brianna.
He just drew the string.
Released.
The arrow pierced the creature's skull.
Its body hit the mud without him even blinking.
"Ryden," Karna said, voice steady, stepping forward and loading another arrow. "Send a signal to the other four."
Ryden spun the bow between his fingers, the motion fluid like a gesture rehearsed through years of discipline.
"Understood," he replied.
He drew a different arrow.
The shaft was dark.
But the tip — ah, the tip — glowed with a narrow rune carved with almost surgical precision.
A symbol of High Flame, one of the warning runes.
Its light pulsed under the rain, refusing to fade.
Ryden murmured something under his breath — not a long spell, just an activation.
An ancient word that carried weight and rite:
"Ascendere."
The arrow's tip ignited with a white, intense, controlled light that didn't burn, but illuminated like a beacon.
Ryden lifted the bow.
The noise of the field seemed to diminish.
He released the arrow.
It climbed straight up, slicing the gray sky like a streak of pure light.
It burst above with a sharp, silent, impossible-to-ignore flash — a warning for the other four to attack in unison.
From the top of the wall, the White Viper watched the advance.
The rain fell heavy around her… but didn't touch her.
It slid around her as if unworthy of contact — almost a silent reverence.
She turned her face slightly, like someone catching an ancient scent in the air, and raised an eyebrow in silent acknowledgment.
She smiled slowly, a smile that never reached the eyes.
"How curious… everyone decided to grace me with their presence today. First the Specter. And now you… Black Fury. Tell me… what brings you to me?"
The air around her seemed to cool.
A veil of thin shadows rose behind her, moving like living fabric, following the voice that seemed to be born and die in the wind.
"I came only… to admire up close the stage you've built. And I must admit: you're playing a dangerous game, old friend. Besides that, I felt… a certain weight on my spirit. I was used as a piece, after all. When you told me to fetch the boy and bring him here, speaking of bringing his beloved back… I never imagined I'd witness this."
The White Viper shifted her gaze to the field, touching her index finger to her thumb, like someone calculating the next move of a rare piece on a board.
She let out a soft laugh — almost graceful — as she contemplated the lightning devastating the Drakkoul below.
Her eyes then landed on Brianna and Whirok, trapped in their deadly dance.
After a long silence, she murmured:
"If I didn't know you so well… I might almost believe your words. But let's tell the truth: weren't you the one who used me first? When you showed the Count what you shouldn't have… you ruined my plans and forced me to join this miserable organization."
The Black Fury tilted her head, the smile too narrow to be friendly.
"Forced you? Please… no one forced you. Someone merely offered an opportunity you already wanted."
The wind passed between the two, carrying fragments of dust, as if the entire field held its breath not to interrupt the conversation.
"Maybe that's what binds us: two creatures who learned to turn betrayal into habit."
Silence fell again.
Only the thunder illuminated the White Viper's serene — and dangerous — face.
Her eyes swept the field, watching:
Kaelir opening fissures.
Skýra raising her spear and shield.
Karna already loading another arrow with absurd precision.
The four Awakened advancing like a single lethal organism, and behind them the ordinary soldiers trying to keep up.
The Black Fury took a soft step to the side, almost floating, letting her cloak brush the stone of the wall without making any sound.
Then she broke the silence:
"Careful, old friend. As I said… you're playing a dangerous game."
The White Viper lifted her chin a bit more, eyes sharp as freshly polished blades.
"I fear I don't know… what you're referring to."
The Black Fury's voice came almost like an incanted spell:
"Ahahah… sometimes we meet beings who move pieces far better than we do… in ways we'd never imagine. I speak from experience. Nika was one of them. And that's why Tartarus is still sealed in its territory in the abyss."
The White Viper narrowed her eyes — not in irritation, but pure calculation. She didn't like when the past arrived uninvited.
A pause.
A sharp whisper.
The Black Fury's voice shifted tone — now sweeter, almost affectionate, which always meant danger.
"Oh… and one last warning, old friend. Since your little 'toys' collapsed before the Prince, I sent Pixy to keep him entertained for a while. She's strong… but I was one of those who forged him. Don't expect her to last. He is… efficient."
For the first time, the White Viper stopped completely.
Her fingers closed slowly over the parapet — an almost imperceptible gesture, but impossible to hide from someone who knew her so well.
The storm seemed to hold its breath — just for a second.
And then the world tore open.
A blue flash fell from the sky like a vertical blade — so close that vapor exploded from the water gathered on the ground.
Brianna was already moving before the thunder struck.
She slid to the side, body curved, clothes clinging to her skin from the rain, right hand pulling the air as green filaments — thin, alive — crawled up her arms, spreading across her fingers like a root seeking earth.
With a dry crack, the filaments connected to the ground.
The mud hardened under her feet, forming a solid base.
Whirok appeared behind her without sound, as if he had been spat out from the shadow of the lightning itself.
His hand, covered in a mix of darkness and shadowed electricity, cleaved the air in a descending strike.
Brianna turned.
Clean movement.
Precise.
The wind snapped around her.
She raised her left arm — and the rain rose, as if pulled by invisible strings — forming a spiraling curtain.
Whirok's strike pierced the spiral, but lost force and direction.
His smile widened.
He lunged with absurd speed — short, irregular steps, no rhythm, moving between shadows.
Shadows stretched from the ground, from the air, from behind Brianna.
Three spears of darkness.
Three directions at once.
Brianna drove a green filament into the air as if piercing an invisible wall.
The filaments connected to the wind.
She pulled.
An arc of burst-wind cut the space, deflecting two of the spears.
The third grazed her, slicing her shoulder and burning the skin.
She didn't step back.
She used the impact itself to spin her body, sliding over the mud hardened by magic.
Whirok laughed — that crooked, unstable laugh that sounded more like cracking glass than joy.
"You're speeding up," he said, voice low, steady, not losing breath. "Good."
He vanished again.
And reappeared above her, upside down, as if gravity had betrayed itself out of will.
The shadows around him converged into a single point: his right hand.
A direct strike.
If it hit, it would break her bones.
Brianna raised her hand.
The lightning answered before she finished the gesture.
It fell onto her palm, spreading through her fingers like living threads.
She drew her arm back and launched.
A whip of light and wind.
The impact caught Whirok midair.
He twisted like a feline creature, using the strike itself to push backward — landed on his feet, sliding across the mud, shadows piling behind him to slow his fall.
The smile didn't leave his face.
"You've learned new tricks."
Brianna advanced.
Fast.
Almost silent.
The ground opened beneath her feet — thick roots, dark with moisture, rose like natural spears.
She used them as steps.
Climbed.
Launched.
She fell upon Whirok like a human lightning bolt, her arm covered in green filaments twisting like serpents.
Whirok raised both arms.
Shadows exploded around him.
The two collided.
The impact bent the air.
The shockwave opened a dry circle in the rain around them.
Brianna slid back, elbow throbbing.
Whirok too.
But he laughed even harder.
"Come on, Brianna…" his voice carried that unhinged vibration. "Show me what else you can do."
Brianna spat blood, wiped her mouth, and lifted both hands.
The rain fell.
The wind bent.
The earth trembled.
Green filaments crawled across her body by the dozens, connecting with the water, the air, the stone, forming a living circle around her.
Natural.
Brutal.
"All right," she said, posture low, perfect, like a trained assassin. "Then I'll show you."
Whirok tilted his head, eyes gleaming with pure predatory excitement.
Shadows climbed his legs like they were preparing extra muscles.
"Finally."
And the two charged at the same time.