Interlude XXXI – Ashen's Mask
The lieutenant dared approach. "Commander… do you want the archers to break her line? You could end this now."
Ashen did not answer at once. She pressed her fingers lightly against the edge of her blade, as though listening to its pulse.
"Not yet."
The lieutenant shifted, uneasy. "Why?"
Ashen's smile flickered like frost cracking. "Because walls are not stone, they are faith. And faith dies only when you make them watch it shatter."
----
Interlude XXXII – System Archive
[EVENT FLAG TRIGGERED]
Node: Kilkreath Conflict.
Entities: Seraphine / Ashen.
Variance Level: CRITICAL.
Resolution Paths: UNKNOWN.
Warning: Narrative Stability declining.
Recalibration not possible.
----
Steel screamed against steel.
Seraphine lunged, blade cutting a wide arc, snow exploding under her boots. Ashen parried with a twist of her wrist, her counterstrike fast and elegant. Sparks flared, vanished in the frozen air.
The soldiers who had been fighting nearby had pulled back in a rough circle, their war forgotten for this moment. Even Valeria and Noctis held, their battles freezing in orbit around the storm of the duel.
Ashen moved like shadow wrapped in poise. Each strike seemed effortless, her stance never breaking. Seraphine pressed harder, her blows fueled not by technique but by fury, her breath tearing in her chest, her body already screaming with fatigue.
"Your fire burns bright," Ashen said between strikes, her voice steady. "But fire without air always dies."
Seraphine's snarl was her answer. She slammed her shoulder forward, nearly breaking Ashen's guard, forcing her back two steps across the bloodstained snow.
For a heartbeat, Seraphine saw surprise in Ashen's eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by calm amusement.
The duel stretched like eternity in moments.
Ashen cut a shallow line across Seraphine's arm. Cold pain flared, wet against her cloak.
Seraphine answered with a strike that nearly tore Ashen's hood away, steel slicing a lock of her hair.
The circle of watching soldiers held their breath, the sound of the greater battle fading to background thunder.
Every clash rang louder than the war itself.
Valeria shifted, shield half-raised. "She can't hold that pace," she whispered, teeth clenched.
Noctis smirked without humor. "She doesn't care. That's the point."
Seraphine pressed forward again, forcing Ashen to yield ground. Her strikes were raw, reckless, each one a cry torn from her chest. Her boots dug deep furrows into the snow.
Ashen caught one swing, twisted, and shoved her back.
"You fight as if this duel will decide the war," Ashen said. Her eyes glimmered cold. "But I already have what I came for."
Seraphine froze for a fraction of a second—enough to feel the dread coil in her stomach.
"What are you—"
Ashen's next strike crashed down, forcing her to silence.
The duel raged.
Minutes or hours—Seraphine lost the count. Her body was bruised, blood seeped from cuts she could no longer feel.
Ashen, by contrast, seemed almost untouched. Her cloak swirled with every step, her blade glinting like a silver whisper.
But her words cut deeper than steel.
"You thought keeping them inside the fortress kept them safe." Parry, step, strike. "But fear seeped in with every passing day."
Clash. Seraphine's teeth clenched, her muscles burning.
"You thought leading them out here gave them hope." Turn, thrust, counter. "But what they see now is their commander being broken, inch by inch, by someone who barely sweats."
Seraphine roared, slamming her blade with everything left in her.
Ashen smiled. "And when they see faith die, walls fall without touch."
The circle of soldiers wavered. Some looked away. Some tightened their grips on spears as though to hold back despair itself.
Valeria shouted, "Don't you dare falter! She still stands!"
But her voice shook.
The duel reached its peak.
Seraphine's lungs were fire. Her vision blurred at the edges. Every muscle screamed rebellion.
Ashen moved with surgical precision. Each strike was clean, practiced, inevitable.
Then, at last, Seraphine slipped.
Her blade caught a patch of frozen earth. Her guard fell half an instant late.
Ashen's sword slashed across her shoulder.
Pain tore white through her chest. She staggered, knees buckling, nearly falling. Blood spread across the snow.
The circle gasped.
Ashen lowered her blade slightly—not to finish, but to let her stand again.
Because this was not about killing. Not yet.
"Why?" Seraphine spat blood, forcing herself upright, her sword trembling in her grip.
Ashen tilted her head, serene. "Because wars aren't won by blades. They're won by breaking stories. Yours is ending now."
She raised her sword once more, poised, perfect.
"Watch, wolf. Watch as the Realm learns that even its fiercest hope bleeds."
Seraphine's knees shook. Her sword wavered.
Her army's eyes burned into her back. She felt their despair like chains dragging her into the snow.
No.
She forced air into her lungs. Grit into her bones. She refused.
With a cry that split the battlefield, she raised her sword once more.
She charged.
Ashen's smile widened.
Their blades met in a clash that shook the air itself—
----
Interlude XXXIII – Darius
Darius stood before the glyphs, his hands trembling.
"It's too soon," he muttered. "The System won't hold if the duel resolves here. It's not ready."
The Wanderer's eyes gleamed with strange light.
"Then perhaps it's not the System's story anymore."
----
Interlude XXXIV – System Log
[CRITICALALERT]
Entity:Seraphine
Status:REFUSALProjected
Collapse:Incalculable.
Stability:0%.
Outcome:DEVIATION.