The moment Duke Sant said the words—
"One Strike."
His blade changed. Magma burst out from the edge of his sword.
Not just fire.
Not just lava.
It was thick, bright, burning magma that flowed like a river from the blade.
The snow around him began to melt at once.
Water turned to steam. White smoke rose into the air and wrapped around him.
The ground hissed.
The air trembled.
"You have pushed me too far," Duke Sant muttered.
His voice was low, but it carried weight.
"I did not think I would need to use my intuition in this fight. But you forced me."
Lava dripped from his sword and fell to the ground. Each drop burned a hole into the earth.
Elena's copy had been about to rush forward—
But she stopped. Her eyes narrowed slightly. She could feel it.
The pressure. The change. But there was no fear in her eyes.
Only calm. Only cold focus.
Duke Sant took one step forward. Magma fell behind him as he walked.
Slow. Steady.
Each step left a burning mark on the ground.
