The streets near the guild were nothing but smoke and ruin. Buildings smoldered, shattered by claws and ice, while the cries of wounded citizens echoed like broken bells. The air itself felt heavy, as though dread had woven itself into every breath.
And there, at the heart of the chaos, he stood.
Kyren.
His figure was tall, draped in ragged black garments that seemed stitched from shadows themselves. His hair—jet black streaked with faint blue—fell messily over his pale, unyielding face. His crimson eyes glowed faintly, unblinking, cold. But it was the frost he carried that made the world shudder. Black ice spread in jagged veins across the ground, devouring stone, choking the life from the air. Every step he took deepened the suffocating chill.
Shellia stood opposite him, her chest rising and falling, the divine glow of her aura burning against the suffocating darkness. Sweat trickled down her temple though the air was frigid. Behind her, flames flickered—red, alive, and impossibly vibrant. Orielle.
The fox spirit hovered close, her golden eyes shining, her aura coiling like a blazing storm.
Kyren said nothing. He didn't need to. The slow rise of his arm, the black frost gathering in his palm, was declaration enough.
The battle began.
---
A spear of black ice ripped through the air, shrieking like a blade. Shellia twisted aside, her boots sliding across cracked stone as the spear obliterated a wall behind her. She lifted her hand, light flaring between her fingers.
"Purification—ignite!"
Orielle's flame answered. A pillar of red-gold fire burst forward, clashing with Kyren's frost. The explosion cracked the air like thunder, shards of steaming black ice raining down. The cobblestones beneath them hissed, half-frozen, half-scorched.
Monsters surged in around them, drawn by Kyren's oppressive power. Hulking beasts with twisted horns and malformed bodies rushed forward, claws raking the ground.
Shellia didn't hesitate. She pivoted, her sword blazing as Orielle's flame wrapped along its edge. With one sweeping arc, she cleaved through three of the creatures, their corrupted bodies burning to ash.
Another lunged at her flank. She ducked, fire spilling from her palm in a blast that consumed it mid-air.
But Kyren was there.
He moved without a sound, his silent approach colder than any roar. His hand snapped out, black frost coiling like a serpent. It struck her barrier with the weight of a mountain, forcing her backward. Her knees buckled, her body trembling against the crushing cold.
Orielle's voice echoed, fierce and sharp:
[Push forward, Shellia! My flames will not falter before this corruption!]
With a cry, Shellia thrust both hands forward, her sword blazing as divine fire erupted. The flames spread outward in a sweeping wave, scorching monsters into nothingness, slamming against Kyren's frost.
The ground split. Steam hissed, the clash of fire and frost tearing apart everything it touched.
Still, Kyren didn't speak. His eyes remained fixed on her, unwavering, almost… familiar.
---
The battlefield stretched around them. Behind Shellia, Lumiel stood at the city gates, his divine shield glowing like a dome of gold, repelling stray monsters. His voice carried faintly over the distance:
"Do not falter, Lady Shellia! Leave the wounded to me—this battle is yours alone!"
Beside him, Yuki—small but radiant—channeled healing light into the injured, guiding Lumiel's holy power to flow smoother, quicker.
Shellia's grip tightened. Then this is my fight.
She launched forward.
Her sword swung, flames spiraling in an arc. Kyren raised his hand, black ice forming a jagged blade. Metal met frost, sparks hissing as their clash reverberated like a bell tolling death.
Strike after strike, Shellia pressed, Orielle's fire crackling along every blow. Kyren parried with inhuman calm, his ice reshaping, reforming, refusing to break.
A monster leapt from behind—Shellia barely glanced, her free hand lifting. Flame roared outward, consuming it to ash, even as her blade locked against Kyren's.
"You will not pass!" she shouted, fire bursting along the ground, forcing a circle of searing light between her and the swarm.
Kyren tilted his head, expression unreadable. His crimson eyes narrowed, and frost spread outward in answer, smothering her fire like a flood of ink.
Orielle's flames surged, stronger, wilder.
[He carries the corruption deeply, Shellia. But he is no ordinary foe. This frost… it's born of something darker than mere magic.]
Shellia gritted her teeth. "Then we'll burn through it."
---
Kyren moved again. Swift, merciless. He spun his ice blade in a silent slash, black frost trailing behind like the scythe of death. Shellia blocked, but the force hurled her back, skidding across stone. Her arms screamed with the impact, her breath ragged.
He followed.
No words. No mercy. His fist slammed toward her chest, frost gathering in an instant. Shellia twisted, his strike grazing her side. Pain seared where the black ice touched her, frost biting deep into flesh.
Orielle flared, wrapping her in flame. The corruption recoiled, smoke rising from the wound as the fire purged it.
Shellia gasped, clutching her sword. Her gaze burned with determination.
"You won't… break me."
Her flames erupted, a blazing phoenix rising behind her as Orielle's spirit intertwined with her magic. Fire swept across the battlefield, devouring monsters, forcing Kyren to brace as the heat cracked his ice.
And still, he advanced.
Every step he took froze the ground anew. Every swing of his blade silenced her fire for a heartbeat. It was like fighting the night itself, endless and suffocating.
Shellia roared, her blade striking faster, each blow stronger. Sparks, fire, and frost filled the air in a storm of chaos.
The monsters pressed again, a tide of fangs and claws. Shellia split her focus, her left hand casting bursts of flame, burning them down even as her right hand clashed against Kyren's blade. The exhaustion mounted—her chest heaved, her arms trembled.
Yet her eyes never wavered.
Orielle's voice rang like steel:
[Do not yield. I will carry your flame as long as you stand!]
And Shellia answered with every swing, every burst of fire, every scream of defiance.
---
The ground shook. Walls cracked. The very air burned and froze in the same breath as the duel raged on.
Kyren remained silent, relentless, his attacks as steady as the tide. His crimson eyes glowed brighter with every clash, as though testing her, measuring her worth.
Shellia's fire blazed, her aura radiant, divine purification lacing every strike. Orielle's flames healed her wounds as fast as they came, but the drain was immense. Sweat poured, her muscles screamed, but her will refused to break.
Around them, the battle showed no signs of ending. Monsters poured endlessly from the shadows. Lumiel's golden shield still held, Yuki's light still shining—but the true storm was here, between Shellia and Kyren.
And in that storm, there was no victory.
Only fire.
Only frost.
Only the clash of two powers that refused to yield.
The battle raged on, endless, unforgiving—its conclusion nowhere in sight.
---
The ground was scorched and frozen alike, a battlefield that looked more like a graveyard of two clashing elements than a city street. Black frost crawled like veins through stone, while patches of seared earth glowed faintly red from Orielle's fire. The fight had stretched long enough to drain even the strongest warriors.
Shellia's breaths came ragged. Sweat clung to her brow, dripping down her cheek, steam rising where it touched the heat of her aura. Orielle's spirit-fire still flared brightly, but even that brightness was being tested by Kyren's relentless frost.
He stood across from her, silent as always. His blade of black ice hummed in his hand, his crimson eyes locked on her with chilling intent. Even battered and scorched, he hadn't wavered.
Shellia clenched her sword tighter. I can't just keep pushing against him. He won't fall to brute strength alone… I have to think.
---
Kyren moved first, frost sweeping from his hand in a broad wave that turned the ground into jagged obsidian ice. Shellia didn't meet it head-on this time. Instead, she rolled aside, letting the blast skim past her, shattering a wall behind her in a thunderous crash.
Her flames flared in the opposite direction—not toward Kyren, but toward the ground between them. The heat shattered the frozen surface, steam erupting into the air. The sudden mist blinded his vision.
For the first time in their duel, Kyren faltered. His red eyes narrowed, adjusting to the haze.
Shellia seized the chance. She dashed forward, low and fast, her sword blazing with Orielle's flame. Her strike came from below, aimed not at his chest but at his leg.
The blow connected.
Kyren staggered, frost lashing out to counter, but his stance wavered. A line of scorched black spread across his thigh where her blade had struck.
---
Shellia pulled back, panting, her heart hammering. It worked… his silence hides his strength, but even he can bleed.
Orielle's voice crackled in her mind, urgent and fierce:
[Good! Use his own stability against him. His strength is steady, but not unshakable. Break the rhythm, Shellia. Force him to bend to your pace.]
She nodded, determination hardening her expression.
Kyren's aura grew heavier, the black frost around him pulsing like a living thing. He raised his hand, summoning a storm of jagged ice spears, each one tipped with void-like shadows. With a flick, they all surged toward her.
Instead of retreating, Shellia charged forward.
Her sword blazed with divine fire, each swing slicing through the frozen spears, melting them mid-flight. Shards hissed into vapor as she closed the distance, her flames wrapping around her like a second skin.
Kyren met her, their blades clashing again, sparks of frost and fire exploding outward. But now her strikes were sharper, her movements deliberate. She wasn't just enduring—she was learning.
---
Every time his ice pressed forward, she redirected, her fire burning not just at him but at the very frost on the ground. Steam rose, blinding, disorienting. Every time he struck with precision, she twisted, forcing his attacks wide, making him compensate.
Slowly, steadily, she turned the rhythm.
Kyren's silent grace began to falter. His blade was still lethal, but he had to step back more often, his crimson eyes flickering faintly with strain.
Shellia's body screamed in pain, yet with each swing, something new burned inside her. Not just Orielle's fire, not just divine purification—something purer.
A monster lunged from the shadows, its claws dripping black venom. Shellia barely glanced at it. With her free hand, she released a burst of flame—not to burn, but to heal.
The fire wrapped around the monster like a cocoon. For an instant, it screeched, its corruption burning away, its body purified before collapsing into harmless ash.
Shellia froze. Her eyes widened.
That… wasn't normal fire.
Orielle gasped, her voice ringing in awe:
[Shellia… that flame… it is no longer only purification. That was pure fire healing. The rarest flame… the truest balance between destruction and restoration.]
The flames flickered across Shellia's arms, golden-red, gentler yet fiercer than ever before. Wherever they touched, her wounds closed, her strength renewed. The warmth wasn't just hers—it resonated outward, carrying life.
Kyren's eyes narrowed, for the first time betraying something almost like recognition.
---
"Kyren!" Shellia shouted, her voice echoing with power. "Your frost may consume, but my fire restores! I won't let your corruption spread any longer!"
Her blade erupted in radiant flame. She charged.
The clash was devastating. Fire met ice, healing met decay. Every strike Shellia delivered wasn't just an attack—it was a declaration of life, burning away the shadows that clung to Kyren.
His blade shattered under the force of her strikes, reforming instantly, only to break again. Her fire pressed deeper, brighter, purging at the very corruption clinging to him.
Kyren retaliated, his frost striking out in jagged spikes. They pierced her side, her arm, her shoulder—but each time, her new flame flared, burning the wounds shut, refusing to let her fall.
Her movements grew faster, stronger. She was no longer fighting just to survive. She was fighting to win.
---
Orielle roared through their bond:
[Now, Shellia! Strike with everything—you are ready!]
Flames gathered around her blade, golden-red, pure and radiant. Shellia raised it high, her body trembling, her voice fierce.
"Pure Fire Healing—Final Purge!"
She brought the blade down.
The world exploded in light.
A wave of fire spread outward, not destructive, but cleansing. Every monster within range screamed as their corruption was burned away, their bodies collapsing into harmless ash. The ground itself glowed, purified, the black frost retreating like a tide.
Kyren stood at the center of the inferno, his body engulfed. For the first time, he faltered. His crimson eyes flickered, the black frost surrounding him shrieking as it burned.
He dropped to one knee, his blade shattering completely. Smoke rose from his body, thick, black, unnatural.
Shellia panted, her sword lowered, her flames flickering weakly around her. "It's… over."
---
Kyren raised his head. His crimson eyes still glowed faintly, but the sharpness had dulled. His body trembled, his breath shallow. He was beaten.
And yet…
The smoke clung to him.
Dark tendrils of shadow swirled around his frame, whispering like voices from another world. The corruption hadn't left—it had only been forced back, contained for now.
Orielle's tone was grave:
[You won, Shellia… but the battle is not truly finished. That corruption… the demon's hold… it still festers within him.]
Shellia's grip tightened on her blade. She stepped closer, her fire flickering softly, cautiously. Kyren didn't raise his weapon. He simply knelt there, silent as ever, the black smoke curling from his body.
She lowered her sword, her chest heaving. He's defeated… but not freed. This fight… was only the beginning.
The flames dimmed, leaving the battlefield in eerie quiet.
Kyren was beaten.
But the shadow inside him still lived.
And Shellia knew—this war with the demon was far from over.
---