The sun was bleeding into the horizon when Justice and Truth arrived at the smoldering gates of the former Blood Cult outpost. Freedom was the first thing they saw—collapsed and unmoving at the center of the crater-riddled earth. Flames flickered weakly from his boots, his attire torn, his body slumped as though even gravity mourned.
Justice froze mid-stride, her breathing sharp. "Justin?" She let his name slip. Truth's chest tightened. He moved first, steps silent against the cracked stone. "Freedom!"
But before they could reach him, the air warped. A ripple of sheer pressure cracked outward as a figure emerged from the fading smoke.
Galdron.
Elegant and deadly, the wizard moved with slow confidence. His slicked-back curls and curling beard caught the last hints of sun, and his white-glowing eyes scanned the Pillars with amusement.
"Well," he said smoothly. "The little sparks finally made it. One barely breathing... and the other two rushing in without thinking."
Ardyn narrowed her eyes. "You did this."
"Observant. That's a start." Galdron tilted his head, gesturing lazily toward Freedom's motionless form. "He made quite a mess. Melted a dozen of my men like wax statues. Impressive, if tragically impulsive."
Truth stepped forward. "You said our names before. You knew we'd come."
Galdron's eyes gleamed. "Evren Vale. Truth. Ardyn Alaris. Justice. From that charming little ash heap by the river. Burned down, what, seventeen years ago? Smelled like roasted hope."
"You were there," Ardyn whispered.
He grinned. "Was I? Hm. So many villages. So many regrets."
Evren's voice turned to ice. "Then you remember how this ends." Without another word, the two Pillars attacked.
Evren launched first, coating the ground in a sheet of frozen mist that dulled Galdron's footing. Ardyn was already in motion beside him, blades spinning with charged electricity. Galdron responded with a twirl of his staff, casting a barrier that deflected the twin assault, though not without strain. Sparks and frost cracked against the glowing glyph like stormwinds beating glass.
"You two work well," he mused. "Reminds me of me and an old friend... before I killed him."
Evren circled wide, hands moving with precise gestures. "You talk too much."
He drove his palms forward and sent a wall of jagged ice spears hurtling toward Galdron. The wizard deflected the first set with a flick of his wrist, but Ardyn slipped through behind them, her foot connecting with his side in a flash of lightning. He stumbled, cloak torn, expression tightening.
"Well struck," he muttered. "Let's raise the tempo."
With one slam of his staff, a radiant glyph detonated beneath them. The air fractured with arcane energy, forcing the two Pillars to leap in opposite directions. Evren spun mid-air, landing in a crouch with fresh frost curling from his fingertips.
"You okay?" Ardyn called across the smoke.
"Better than he is."
They regrouped quickly, circling him in a flanking pattern. But Galdron wasn't playing anymore. He raised both hands and muttered something in an arcane tongue. The air shimmered—then a massive wave of gravity crashed outward, pinning the two to the ground. Ardyn grunted, pushing against the pull. Evren slid backward across the earth, his boots tearing up soil.
"You're skilled," Galdron said, approaching calmly. "But skill can't outpace inevitability."
Evren forced a breath. "You talk like a man trying to convince himself."
He released a sudden pulse of glacial energy beneath him, breaking the gravity field. Ardyn surged up again, lightning racing down her arms, twin blades screaming through the air. She caught Galdron's shoulder, slicing deep. The wizard howled, staggering.
"NOW, EVREN!"
He was already moving—ice-shards forming a lance in his hand. With precision honed through pain and practice, he hurled it.
But Galdron was faster. With one hand bloodied, he opened a hidden glyph at his side and redirected the lance, then spun and drove a hidden blade of energy straight into Evren's side. The impact dropped the Ice Pillar instantly.
"EVREN!" Ardyn screamed.
His body crumpled like paper, skidding across the ground. A faint frost lingered where he landed, but he did not rise.
Ardyn's world slowed to a crawl.
No more thrill. No more noise. Just a deafening hum.
She turned toward Galdron. He stood hunched, blood dripping from his shoulder, breathing heavy—but still smirking.
"What now, warrior? I heard you work well under pressure. Show me."
Ardyn walked slowly toward him, blade in one hand, sparks humming across her skin. Her voice was no longer sharp—it was steady. Heavy.
"You shouldn't have touched him."
Galdron raised a brow.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
Ardyn charged.
***
Smoke curled between the trees like fingers dragging themselves toward the sky. The battlefield outside the Blood Cult's relocated hideout had fallen into momentary quiet, the kind of silence that crackles right before lightning strikes.
Grint stood barely upright, face smeared with blood and grime, his right arm limp at his side—shoulder clearly dislocated. His stance was off, every breath shallow. But he didn't move. He was standing over Tess.
She lay unconscious, bruised, the edge of her cloak smoldering. Whatever had knocked her out had nearly crushed her skull. Only Grint's last-ditch shield spell and raw grit had spared her.
Across the battlefield, Seraphine lay slumped against a broken tree trunk, her staff cracked in two. She stirred faintly, but she wasn't waking up soon. Grint kept his eyes fixed on the real fight now blazing nearby.
Talon and Robin.
They were a blur of motion, arrows flashing like shooting stars in both directions, smoke magic slicing through trees, and ethereal traps crackling through the mist. Robin's silhouette danced between shadows and fog, her pink eyes gleaming with both venom and heartbreak.
"You always had to play the part of the martyr, didn't you?" she snapped, dodging one of Talon's enchanted arrows as it whistled past her head and detonated behind her.
"And you always had to turn the mission into a crusade," Talon growled back, losing another arrow that split into three mid-flight. "This was never supposed to be about us."
Robin dissolved into smoke before the triple-shot hit, reappearing behind Talon with a smoky blade in hand. "But you made it personal, Talon. You made it personal the day you chose the guild over what we believed in. You chose to climb the ranks."
Their weapons clashed—arrow to shadow dagger, enchantment to illusion—as they twisted around each other in a dance of familiarity turned bitter.
"I completed the mission," Talon hissed, catching her wrist and forcing her back. "You weren't supposed to go back for him! That prisoner—he was the linchpin. You knew that! So, why?"
Robin bared her teeth. "He was a symptom, not the disease. We were supposed to fix Eldoria. Instead, you just followed orders like a good little soldier. And what did it cost us?"
Talon's expression faltered for a heartbeat.
"Tess," Robin whispered. "It cost us Tess. She was our compass. And you shattered it. Fed her mind poison. Lies! The blood cult? Need I say more? It's in the name!"
Grint's legs shook. "She's not dead," he called out, barely audible. "Don't talk like she's already gone. At least not for real."
Robin hesitated—her eyes flicked to Grint, to Tess's still body—just long enough.
Talon moved.
A spinning kick knocked her back, but she caught herself with a cloud of smoke, reforming in midair with a scowl. Talon's bow was already pulled, another arrow notched.
"Get out of my way, Robin," he said, his voice low. "This is bigger than either of us now. Let me end this, let me burden it alone. You don't have to see any of it, I'll end the suffering."
"And what, you're suddenly noble again?" she snarled. "This mission cost us everything. Don't act like you're the hero."
Talon's fingers trembled slightly on the string.
"I'm not the hero," he whispered. "I'm just the one still standing."
The arrow fired—aimed not for her chest, but for the shadows behind her where another hollowspawn crept, ready to impale her from behind.
Robin blinked.
The arrow hit its mark. The creature evaporated into oily mist.
She looked back at Talon.
"You didn't hesitate."
"You would've done the same," he said quietly.
A moment passed between them—unspoken grief, broken loyalties, and old warmth that had long since cooled.
Grint's legs finally gave out. He slumped beside Tess, breathing hard. "You two done dancing, or should I clap?"
Neither replied.
Robin stepped back, her expression unreadable. "This fight isn't over, Talon. And next time, you won't get the benefit of the past."
Talon nodded once. "Next time... maybe we both bring less baggage."
She vanished into a swirl of dark smoke, leaving behind only a faint scent of cedar and ash. Talon lowered his bow, then knelt beside Seraphine, checking her pulse.
Still breathing.
Grint groaned. "Don't suppose we get to go home now?"
Talon looked off toward the flicker of distant flames—where Justice and Truth had gone. Watching as the crackling and thundering raged on from the outpost in the distance.
"No," he said. "Not yet. Quick, pick up Tess."
The air was heavy with smoke and silence.
Tess blinked, her vision swimming with light and ash. She lay on the hard forest floor, her body stiff, her ribs aching with each breath. As her senses began to realign, the sounds returned—muted at first, then sharper. The crackling of distant flames. The low groan of trees swaying. The faint crack of tension in the air.
And then the voices.
Too familiar. Too close.
"I see your eyes twitching," came Grint's voice from nearby. "Don't pretend you're still out."
Her eyes fluttered open, and the sight she was met with sent her stomach twisting. Grint, battered but upright, stood just a few feet away. His dislocated arm hung awkwardly at his side, but in his opposite hand, a fist of magma pulsed—slow, angry. Like a warning. Seraphine was slung over his shoulder, unconscious but safe.
Tess dragged herself into a sitting position, her eyes darting around. She didn't see Robin. Or Talon. But the tension told her they had been here. And that she wasn't welcome.
"I was trying to stop worse from happening," she muttered.
Grint didn't buy it. "You were helping a blood cult unleash hollowspawn on the world, idiot. Don't play revisionist."
"I didn't know it would go this far." Tess's voice trembled—not from fear, but restraint. "I wasn't trying to destroy anything."
"You tried to disappear, Tess," Grint growled. "You sided with them. And now you want what—sympathy?"
"I want my city back."
"You burned the bridge to it."
The magma in Grint's hand bubbled. A warning. Or a promise.
"I didn't know where else to go," she snapped. "After what happened with Talon—after what he did, I couldn't—"
"He didn't kill her," Grint said coldly. "He completed the mission. You didn't like the cost."
Tess looked away. "None of you know what it cost. Not really."
Grint took a step forward. A low hum built in the distance. Faint at first—like wind traveling through stone. Then louder. Sharper. Electric.
Tess turned her head instinctively as the pressure shifted.
From beyond the treeline, a streak of blinding light—blue and white—ripped through the field like a wrathful serpent.
KRK-THOOM!
A thunderous crack echoed as a surge of electricity split the ground, trees bending with the force of it. Grint instinctively shielded Seraphine's body as the bolt passed overhead.
The wave struck something—or someone—in the distance.
A figure collapsed, coughing violently, his body skidding back across the dirt and stone.
Galdron.
The wizard's finely-pressed robes were torn, smoke rising from his singed beard. His arrogant charm had been replaced by raw disbelief and agony as he writhed against the scorched earth. Grint stood stunned. Tess barely had time to speak before another pulse of thunder hit the earth and the sharp clap of metal echoed.
From the smoke ahead, the voice that followed was unmistakable.
"Stay down this time, glow-eyes," Justice growled.
The sky roared overhead, a dark vault brimming with lightning. Static clung to the air like breath to glass.
Galdron coughed blood, dragging himself up on one knee. His magic shields sputtered. The once-coiling runes up his arms dimmed and cracked. He glanced at Justice—approaching slowly now, with arcs of electricity jumping from her fingertips to the blackened ground.
Across the field, Truth was slouched against the fractured trunk of a burnt tree. His breath shallow, his coat torn open at the shoulder where Galdron's blade had pierced clean through. Blood soaked the earth beneath him, but his violet eyes hadn't left Justice for a moment.
She wasn't fighting for thrill anymore.
She was fighting for him.
"You—" Galdron began, staggering upright. "You think—because you burn brighter—you'll win?"
Justice didn't answer. Her fists clenched at her sides, and the crackle of lightning intensified.
"I've seen real wars," he spat. "Your storm is just noise—"
Her voice was low. Deadly.
"You picked the wrong storm."
She leapt high into the air, limbs glowing white-blue with raw electric fury. Galdron barely had time to cast a wall of smoke magic when she raised both arms skyward.
BOOM!
A singular bolt of lightning, thick as a tree trunk, crashed down from the clouds like divine wrath. It struck Justice midair—and she channeled it straight into her fist.
With a wild, war-born scream, she rocketed down and slammed it into Galdron's magic shield.
The shield shattered like glass under a sledgehammer.
The explosion of light and sound rocked the battlefield. Guild members braced against the shockwave, debris blasting past them. Grint shielded Tess instinctively. Talon and Robin froze mid-duel, eyes locked on the incandescent burst of destruction.
When the dust cleared—
Galdron lay broken, hurled backward like a rag doll. He skipped across the ground, cloak scorched and smoking, until he came to a bone-jarring stop—
Right in front of Truth.
Evren's head tilted weakly forward, blood dripping from his jaw as he looked down at the crumpled wizard at his feet. His lips parted, breath catching as he whispered:
"…Ardyn?"
Justice landed moments later, her boots cracking stone. Her chest heaved, electricity dancing over her skin. No longer smiling. No longer the thrill-seeking warrior.
Just focused. Furious.
She dropped to one knee beside Evren, gently touching his arm. "Are you still breathing?"
"Barely," he croaked. "But you… That was—"
"I know." She glanced at Galdron, unmoving. "Let's call it divine thunder."
Evren grinned faintly before wincing. "Next time, I will go first."
"Next time," she said, eyes narrowing at the horizon, "I don't let you take a hit like that."
As the storm began to recede, the battlefield was lit only by the soft flicker of electricity still dancing across the stone—echoes of a warrior's fury that no one would soon forget.