POV: Ryuji Rei & Hana Hyakui
The sound came like a quake through the air—distant at first, then closer, rising into the unmistakable cry of chaos.
"Call the ogres!"
Hana's head snapped toward the northern ridge, where black plumes of smoke were beginning to curl above the rooftops. The city trembled faintly beneath her boots. She looked at Ryuji, who was adjusting the crimson staff in his grip, the ember at its core pulsing like a frantic heartbeat.
"Ryuji," she whispered, voice taut, "they've found Nogare."
The cry came again—this time closer, joined by the thunder of boots and claws. Then came the roars. Hundreds of them.
The horizon rippled with motion—kobolds and ogres spilling out of the northern valley like a living tide, steel and fang catching the faint dawn light.
Hana's pulse spiked. "Ryuji—burn them. Now!"
Ryuji hesitated. His hand trembled as he raised the staff. He could feel it—the ember thrumming violently, unstable, like it wanted to devour him as much as the enemy. His mana reserves were thin, his breath uneven from the days of marching without rest.
"I can't—" he muttered, "the staff's unstable. If I miscast—"
Hana grabbed his arm. "Then we die here anyway!"
The sharpness of her voice cut through the fear. Ryuji's jaw tightened. He slammed the butt of his staff against the ground, sparks bursting outward like liquid flame. The air itself seemed to recoil.
"Fine," he said, voice low. "Let's give them their inferno."
He raised the staff high, eyes narrowing as crimson veins of light crawled across the blackened wood.
Black Magic – Infernal Cinders.
The name fell from his lips like a curse. The air ignited.
A column of fire spiraled into the sky, widening until the horizon turned molten. The blast consumed the front line first—kobolds shrieking, bodies vaporized in an instant. The second wave stumbled backward, only to be caught in the collapsing shockwave that followed.
The sky itself seemed to catch fire. Clouds bled orange and red. The earth split beneath them, spitting molten stone as Ryuji screamed through clenched teeth, forcing every drop of mana into the spell.
Then—silence.
The inferno burned quietly now, a storm of embers drifting through what used to be an army. Ash fell like snow. The smell of scorched earth hung thick in the air.
Hana lowered her bow, eyes wide. Her voice came out hoarse, almost reverent. "You… did it."
Ryuji's staff was cracked down the middle. Smoke trailed from the ember core. His breathing was shallow, his face pale, sweat pouring down his temples.
"Did I?" he murmured. "Or did it do me?"
Hana half-laughed, half-sobbed, but before she could answer, a silhouette emerged through the drifting ash. Two of them—one carrying a bundle of loot, the other wiping blood off a blade that seemed to drink the firelight.
Nogare and Zentake.
Nogare's coat was torn, his eyes calm and unreadable. Behind him, Zentake's shadow stretched unnaturally long across the burning ruins, his movements too smooth to belong to the living.
Hana stepped forward. "Nogare! What happened inside?"
Nogare looked up at the fire-smeared sky, the glow reflecting in his eyes like molten glass. "Fate tried to stop us."
He dropped a small Valerian insignia into the dirt. The metal hissed as it met the scorched ground.
"But it couldn't."
Ryuji leaned heavily on his cracked staff, still staring at the field of burning corpses. "That spell… it nearly burned me alive."
Nogare placed a hand on his shoulder as he passed. "Good. That means it's working."
Then, without pause, he turned to Zentake, who was already kneeling beside the remnants of a shattered tower.
"Zentake," Nogare said. "One last search."
Zentake gave a curt nod, his voice quiet but certain. "Understood."
They vanished back into the smoke—two shadows slipping through a city that was no longer a city, only flame and silence.
Behind them, Hana watched the horizon crumble into ash. The sky bled crimson, and in the hollow quiet that followed, she whispered what none of them would say aloud.
"Bustleburg is burning."
Ryuji didn't answer. His staff flickered once, the ember dimming like a dying heart.
The fire roared on.