The battlefield to the north had quieted.
Li and Diego's fight had ended in ash.
The west was still, Vaelis was gone, Nereziel's roar fading into silence.
But the east… the east still burned.
And in the middle of the wreckage, Tyler staggered back, boots skidding across broken concrete as he tried to breathe, one hand pressed against his ribs. Blood painted his jaw, his chest, the inside of his mouth.
He barely saw the punch.
It cracked against his temple, again, and sent him sprawling sideways. He hit the ground hard, rolled once, twice, before landing in a heap against the crumbling wall of a fallen building.
Zevien didn't chase.
He walked.
Casually. Unhurried. Like this was just another day, like beating Tyler within an inch of his life was no more interesting than breathing.
"You're slower," Zevien said, wiping a speck of blood off his knuckle. "Even now."
Tyler groaned, spitting crimson onto the ground. "You're not even trying."
"Should I be?" Zevien tilted his head. He hadn't even broken a sweat. "You came here thinking you'd win. But you're fighting me like I'm one of them." He pointed behind him, toward the direction the others had fallen. "I'm not."
Tyler surged forward, more out of pride than logic.
Blade in hand.
Eyes blazing.
His form blurred, a streak of shadow, swinging upward in a desperate arc.
Zevien parried it with two fingers.
Then stepped in.
One knee drove into Tyler's gut, knocking the air from his lungs.
Before he could collapse, Zevien caught him by the collar, lifted him up, and slammed him down into the dirt.
The ground cracked.
Tyler coughed violently, tried to push himself up, but Zevien's foot was already on his back, pressing down.
"You're healed," Zevien noted. "Serum's doing its job. But that's all it's doing."
He kicked Tyler across the field like a ragdoll.
Tyler rolled, skidded, came to a stop with his arm twisted awkwardly beneath him.
Every muscle screamed.
He forced himself up again, eyes flickering with rage and humiliation. His fangs bared. His veins lit with the energy of the transformation.
He was in his Vampire form now.
And still, it wasn't enough.
He lunged.
Faster this time. Smarter.
He went low, feinting a side attack before twisting to strike at Zevien's blind spot.
But Zevien wasn't there.
He'd stepped aside before Tyler even committed to the move.
A hand closed around Tyler's ankle.
Then a savage pull, and Tyler was airborne again, only to be slammed spine-first into a pillar of shattered rebar.
The metal groaned.
His body did too.
Zevien approached like a shadow incarnate, calm, precise, terrifyingly aware of every movement Tyler made.
"I know your tells," he murmured as he approached. "Every breath. Every twitch. Every time you blink before you strike."
Tyler tried to swing his blade again. Zevien disarmed him in a flash, twisting his wrist until it cracked, and the weapon clattered to the ground.
"You fought me once," Zevien said coolly. "During the infiltration. But I wasn't trying then."
He drove a fist into Tyler's ribs, five quick jabs, each one so fast they blurred. Each one landing on the same spot. A web of fractures spread across Tyler's chest like lightning cracking glass.
"Now I am."
Tyler collapsed forward.
Wheezing. Trembling.
He barely had the strength to lift his head.
His serum-boosted healing worked, but barely kept pace with the brutal damage Zevien inflicted. Every time skin stitched itself shut, Zevien reopened it. Every time bone reformed, he shattered it again.
Tyler's entire body ached.
His vision blurred.
He's not even using his full strength, Tyler thought.
Zevien hadn't shifted. Hadn't unleashed his wings. Hadn't used any silver.
He hadn't even bled.
It was humiliating. Terrifying.
And yet, Tyler clenched his jaw.
Because this wasn't over.
He spit blood to the side, eyes locked onto Zevien's.
"You're strong," he admitted. "Smarter than the rest."
Zevien raised an eyebrow.
"But you're still going to die here."
The grin that touched Zevien's lips was sharp and humorless.
"We'll see," he said.
And then he moved again, fast enough that even Tyler barely saw it coming.
Tyler couldn't move.
Not anymore.
His limbs hung like shattered branches, nerves frayed from the abuse, vision dimmed to a tunnel of red and black. He felt his body being lifted, dangling, and knew without looking whose hand gripped his throat.
Zevien's.
Elegant. Precise. Pitiless.
"You should've stayed in the lab, little wolf," Zevien whispered, voice low, almost sympathetic. "Ara died because she was flawed. And you you'll die because you're human."
Tyler choked, trying to claw at the hand crushing his windpipe. His boots didn't even touch the ground.
Zevien's other hand raised slowly, calmly, like a surgeon preparing the final cut.
"Goodbye."
Tyler's mind flickered. Ara.
He thought of her eyes. Her grin. Her sharp tongue. The promise they made when they first found each other in the fire.
So this is it, he thought. See you soon.
But death didn't come.
A sharp hiss filled the air.
Darts.
Zevien's eyes widened, and in the next instant, he threw Tyler away like a broken toy, spinning to dodge the streak of silver antidote serum-laced darts that tore through the battlefield like wasps. He snarled, cloak billowing as he twisted and dodged mid-air, faster than most eyes could track, but not faster than Li.
She stood on a crumbling platform above, launcher in hand, expression unreadable. "Heard you don't like needles."
Zevien barely dodged the next shot, retreating backwards, but it cost him.
Harry caught Tyler from the air, but the velocity of the throw sent both of them crashing through the charred remains of a building. Masonry exploded outward. Harry grunted, protecting Tyler's limp body with his own.
"I got you," Harry gasped, voice tight with pain. "I got you, stay with me."
Zevien didn't have time to recover.
Because Diego was already behind him, fangs bared, slamming down with both blades.
Zevien didn't flinch.
He vanished, appearing behind Diego and sending him flying with a brutal knee to the spine.
Slacovich emerged next, blade blazing with fury, coming in from the left, only to be intercepted mid-strike. Zevien twisted, driving an elbow into Slacovich's side, cracking bone with a sickening snap.
Then came Sofie, flashing forward in a blur of silver and crimson. Her blades danced like wind and ribbon, slicing with deadly grace, raining strike after strike.
Zevien dodged all of it.
Every sweep. Every feint. Every flick of her wrist.
He caught her wrist mid-swing and twisted.
Sofie spun with the motion, breaking free, but she was losing ground fast.
Zevien smirked, cocky now.
Until the earth opened beneath him.
Two Shadow Guards burst out from the cracked stone like death incarnate, each grabbing one of Zevien's legs and dragging him down.
He reacted instantly, going for their heads, but two more emerged from the flanks, each seizing an arm mid-strike. His limbs were yanked in four directions, held fast.
The last two Shadow Guards didn't waste the chance.
One drove a blade through Zevien's chest from the front. The other stabbed through his spine.
The ground trembled.
Zevien let out a snarl, for the first time struggling.
That was all the signal the Demonfires needed.
Li descended first, blade aimed for his ribs. Diego followed with a full-body slam. Sofie, Slacovich, and Harry surrounded, aiming for vital points, trying to end it now, while they still had a chance.
But Zevien... laughed.
Low. Dangerous.
And then he changed.
The blades didn't fall out of him, they melted.
His body pulsed.
With a violent shockwave, his form ignited in silver.
Wings burst from his back, not feathered, but jagged and glinting like shattered glass. His eyes turned molten white. His limbs, once lean, now thrummed with brutal force, silver crawling over his skin in veins of pulsing energy.
This wasn't a simple transformation.
This was war made flesh.
"I didn't think I'd need this," Zevien murmured, brushing molten blood off his jaw. "But you've managed to be... mildly annoying."
The Shadow Guards were thrown away like scraps, each blasted back with sonic force.
Li flew through a crumbling wall.
Diego slammed against a scorched vehicle, the frame folding on impact.
Sofie barely had time to raise her blade before Zevien was in front of her, kicking her skyward. She smashed into a tower before falling hard, coughing up blood.
Slacovich blocked a blow, barely, but even he stumbled, heels dragging across the concrete from the force.
Now they were six Demonfires.
And six Shadow Guards.
And still, they couldn't touch him.
Not anymore.
Because Zevien wasn't fighting to provoke.
He was fighting to kill.
And now?
Now, the real final battle had begun.